Robin Constantine - The Promise of Amazing

He backed off, chuckled to himself, and took the keys out of the ignition.

“Grayson told you everything.”

“He told me enough.”

His eyes held mine, steady, sure. “If I was doing the Brinker thing, you’d be undressed already.”

I swallowed. “Well, then, let’s go.”

I was out of the car before he could say anything else. He grabbed my hand as we walked toward the cottage. We were almost to the front door when he stopped short. The momentum made me jerk back and face him. He walked toward me, forcing me to walk backward a bit.

“How far are we going to take this game of chicken?”

Five seconds away from Grayson. Ugh.

“What?”

He put his hands on my waist, pulled me to him again.

“Wren, c’mon. You’re not the casual-hookup type. Grayson and Andy are right behind that door, waiting to what? Kick my ass?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without warning he brought his face close to mine, as if he were going in for a kiss. I could feel the heat of his mouth, inches away.

“What’s so fucking great about Grayson Barrett?” he whispered.

“Luke!” Grayson shouted behind us. Urgent. Angry.

Luke smirked and stepped away, “He’s so predictable.”

My hand went up to my mouth. He’d known. He’d known the whole time.

Grayson pushed Luke away from me. “Are you okay?”

“Dude, we were holding hands.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, then looked at me.

“Let’s just get inside,” I said.

“After you,” Luke said.

“No, after you,” Grayson said, draping his arm over my shoulder. Luke sauntered through the front door. We followed.

My stomach sank; I just wanted this to be over. Gray closed the door behind us. A small table lamp cast shadowy light across the room. I thought about Eben’s warning about keeping the lights out, but I knew it wouldn’t fly. Besides, who would see us? No one was over at the Camelot, so as far as I could tell, we were good.

Luke stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. Grayson stood in front of him, arms crossed. Andy and I leaned against the wall near the kitchen, as if we were waiting for a show.

“Okay, Barrett, I’m here. Now what?”

“I want out, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “And we’re talking about this in front of her, why?”

“You’re the one who brought Wren into this, thanks to the shit you pulled the other day.”

Luke looked at me, then at Andy. “Get her out of here.”

Andy pulled back my arms until it felt like they’d come out of their sockets. I lurched forward, trying to break away, but he had me in an impossible hold.

“Foley, what are you doing?” Gray asked.

“You didn’t think he’d tell me what was going on?” Luke asked, moving closer to Andy and me.

“Gray, dude, I’m neutral. Kiss and make up already. I’ve got a house party to hit by ten,” Andy said.

“Let me go.” I tried to wrench free from Andy. He tugged me back. Grayson took a step toward us, and Luke blocked his way.

“I’ll give you the necklace. Why don’t we just call it even?”

“Class act giving it to Wren, by the way. No. I want something bigger. What about those Marshall amps back there? Are they shit or vintage? What do you think we can get for them, Andy?”

“No!” I said.

“Not sure, can’t tell, maybe a couple of hundred,” Andy said, behind me.

“You can’t have them,” I insisted.

“Or,” Luke said, “maybe Wren should join us. Might shake things up, having a chick on the team. She was quite convincing. I think we may have shared a genuine moment.”

Grayson was on him in an instant. They tumbled into the end table, knocking over the lamp, which landed with a crack and went out. I screamed. Andy pulled me away from the commotion. I fought him the whole time, grunting, leaning forward, thrashing back, trying to kick my legs up or gain leverage on the wall as he pulled me into the kitchen and away from the door frame.

“Let . . . me . . . go,” I said, struggling. “They’re wrecking the place.”

“And what are you going to do about it? Just let them hash it out. It’ll be over soon.”

I huffed while a blur of Grayson and Luke passed before the doorway, followed by another loud rumble against the wall. Over soon was not something I was willing to wait for; they had to be stopped.

“Sorry, Andy,” I said, stomping down on his toe as hard as I could.

Andy dropped an F-bomb as he let go. I scurried out of the kitchen just as a loud crash erupted in the sitting room. Grayson stood in the center of the room, doubled over and gasping. Luke popped up from behind the love seat, brushing glass off his sleeve from the front window. I tried not to think about how I was going to deal with that and instead crouched down next to Grayson.

“Are you okay?” I asked. There was a dark, glistening trickle coming from his nose.

“I’m fine. Wren . . . get out of here . . . now.”

“You’re bleeding,” I said, moving the hair away from his face.

He stood up and grabbed my shoulders. “Please, just go.”

“Yes, Wren, get out of here,” Luke said, behind me.

I spun around and stood firm in front of Grayson.

“Stop, already,” I said.

“Move away,” Luke growled, coming closer.

“Dudes, really, enough,” Andy said, finally emerging from the kitchen. He stepped toward Luke but was greeted with a punch. He staggered back, holding his nose.

“Just take the amps, go!” I yelled.

Luke bared his teeth. Grayson gripped my shoulders from behind, shoving me out of the way.

Beams of light swirled across the floor, onto the ceiling, on Luke’s bloodied face, in my eyes.

I put up my hands and tried to squint the pain away, but the light got brighter. I felt Grayson’s hands around my waist, pulling me to him, and heard a loud, deep voice yell:

“Break it up!”

NO FEAR, AND SILENCE.

That was always our contingency plan—because when you’re screwing girls, swiping goods, taking the profit, and planning a monthlong party in Europe, you needed to know how to deal if the cops ever got involved. Sounds simple, until reality hits and you realize that fear part? You’ve got no control over it.

I stood about a foot away from Wren, hands over my head, willing my jackhammer heart to slow down. I wanted to hold her hand, tell her this was all going to be okay, but really? Another siren blared outside, short and loud. I didn’t know how many police cars were outside, but from the glow of the red and blue lights flashing strobic across our faces, my guess would’ve been a very unscientific shitload.

Luke and Andy were on the other side of me. Luke didn’t look particularly concerned—with the exception of the blood on his face and his hands in the air, he could have been waiting to get a haircut. Andy, on the other hand, looked as fragile as a preschooler about to hurl. He winced as he was patted down.

A cop pulled something out of Andy’s front pocket.

“What’s this?” he asked, bringing up a baggie to his nose.

Andy made a series of spluttering noises and looked over at us. The cop shook his head and reached for his cuffs.

Luke and I shared what was probably the first and last look of friendly agreement in a long time. I imagined the collective thought bubble over our heads would read:

Fucking. Bonehead. Stoner

.

I wanted to pummel Andy. Shake some sense into him. It was stupid enough for him to rat to Luke about what we were doing, but carrying a freakin’ dime bag around like a pack of Skittles? Luke muttered and looked up toward the ceiling. Andy was cuffed. We were screwed.