Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2)

by Blake Blessing

  “A faux relationship. She comes around when she’s crashing or to ask for money. She tries to walk me down memory lane, but at this point, there’s nothing happy to remember.”

  “Then why do you let her stay in your life, Beck? You’re loyal and kind, and something really special. You shouldn’t waste your time on someone that doesn’t appreciate you.” Did that make me a bad person because I was so willing to throw my parentals away? Especially if Beck held on to a worthless parent so strongly?

  He grimaced but kept his attention firmly on the road. “Sometimes there’s nothing I’d like more than to permanently kick her out of my life. There are days where I tell myself I won’t take care of her anymore. Cut her off completely with a cruel kick to the ass. But then, I remember how she took care of me my whole life on her own. My dad was never in the picture. Or if he was, I was too young to have any actual memories of him. I only know what she’s told me. She’s been into drugs ever since I can remember. But would it have been so bad if I wasn’t there? Would the drugs have called to her so desperately if she wasn’t stressed from caring for a young kid?” He sucked in a shuttering breath and I squeeze his fingers. “I can’t make myself let her go. I guess I feel like part of the blame lies with me.”

  I wanted to spill all the words of comfort I could possibly think of, to let him know I admired what he did. What was the proper meaningful combination of words that would show him the hero and saint he really was? Instead of saying anything, I pulled our hands from his leg to my lap, cupping his hand in both of mine.

  “What about you? From the little I know from you and what Rhys has shared, your parents are bastards. Any chance you’ll keep them in your life after you move out?”

  Ugh. The downside to having friends, and getting to know you conversations, they expected you to talk back. How nice would it be to ask as many personal questions as I wanted while escaping them altogether? Unfortunately, that wasn’t how the world worked, and if I wanted Beck to be a real friend, I had to share.

  “No, no chance at all. I won’t even feel guilty. If those feelings existed in me, I wouldn’t have been able to blackmail my dad. I’d love to say I have as big of a heart as you do and want to keep even the smallest relationship with them, but I don’t. Every day I pray for the end of my time with them. Sometimes I look at them and try to pick out the traits I inherited, either moral or by personality, and I’m convinced I was adopted.” A wry smile twisted my lips. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I clearly am from their loins, I’d know I was. How can someone be so different from their parents when they were all I grew up with? It doesn’t seem possible.”

  Beck adjusted in his seat, relaxing into the backrest. He glanced at me and held my gaze for the fraction of a second before he continued driving. “I get it. How did I turn out the way I did with a junkie mom? It probably happens more than you’d think...” He watched a car pass us before flicking his gaze back to me. “What really happened before Rhys showed up that day? He never really said, and you never brought it up.”

  I twisted until I faced him fully, sitting sideways in my seat. The stretch of highway we were on was void of any streetlights and very few businesses, so the only light was from his outdated dash. Something about the darkness made it okay to share. And after seeing his mom, I didn’t think he was one to judge me.

  “It’s never been outright abuse. It was always comments that made me feel less than I was. Or manipulation to make me do what they wanted. But even then, they tried to make me believe I was lucky to have them as parents. Dad wasn’t really a contributor, just mostly guilty because he allowed it to happen. But since we moved here, Mother Dearest changed.”

  “Mother Dearest? Isn’t that a movie?” His face scrunched up and I laughed.

  “Yeah, but the movie was Mommie Dearest. I just didn’t realize how true it would become to give her that nickname.” I shuddered. We entered a more populated part of town, slowing our speed and hitting a small amount of nighttime traffic.

  Next to me, Beck straightened. “Wait, your mom hits you?” His voice turned glacial, nearly searing me with each word.

  “Not often. Not even regularly. But too much for my liking. It’s fine though. Since my dad agreed to keep her in line, she’s been mostly fine.” Did that one day count? It was a fluke and Dad wasn’t there to rein her in.

  “Mostly?” That one word was like a flame in the dark. Isolated and deadly. I watched the car in front of us, reading the many yoga and Colorado bumper stickers attached to the back hatch. If I looked at Beck now, it would make our secret telling more real, and I needed the comfort of anonymity, even if it was a pretty lie.

  “You caught that, eh? You know, it’s hot in here. How do I roll the window down?” He had manual windows, so I started to spin the handle. Maybe he’d get distracted with my lack of knowledge of older cars. “What year did you say this was?” The sudden rush of cold air hit me in the face and cooled some of the heat in my cheeks.

  “Stop changing the subject. Has it happened since the agreement you made with your dad?” We were close to the Iron Horse now. Another couple streets and we would be there.

  As much as I had wanted to have this conversation, I was now over it. He would feel sorry for me, and I didn’t want that.

  “Only one incident and it was hardly anything. I’ll be out of the house in just over six months anyway.” The draw to hang my head out of the window and avoid looking at him at all was very tempting. I hadn’t done it since I was about ten when I felt like the cute lab with flapping lips.

  “Astrid, it only takes one incident before your life is changed forever.” Now we were on the last road. The sign for the Iron Horse winked back at us in fluorescent white lighting.

  “Believe me, I know. Isn’t that how I got that sweet deal from my dad? All from impeccable timing. Another five minutes and I might have missed the opportunity completely.” They could have been done and gone if we walked in five minutes later. Yuck. Now I was picturing how they could have been finished so quick. A full body shiver of revulsion rolled from head to toe.

  We whipped into the parking lot, and pulled into the same spot as last time. There wasn’t a sign with his name on it. Was this known as his spot? Kind of convenient.

  “This is serious Astrid.” The lighter side of Beck I was so accustomed to, fled the car. In his place was a fierce warrior of a man. “I have my own place. If your mom’s home, I want you to come to me. Whether I’m home or not, I don’t care.”

  “My parentals have been much more lenient, but I highly doubt they’d be okay with me gone every second of the day they were home. That would be crazy suspicious. They’d probably believe I was channeling the whore of Babylon, ringing in the end of the world. And anyway, I’d cramp your style. It would be hard to have any of your groupies over if you have a high schooler lounging in your living room in her pajamas.” I jerked a thumb toward the club and laughed awkwardly. Damn, not a strong move. Why did I bring up the groupies? Why did I remind him I was still in high school?

  He didn’t laugh with me. With slow precision, he reached for the keys and turned off the Mustang, while keeping direct eye contact. And not the fluffy and besotted type of eye contact. No, this was the kind that made me feel like a rabbit caught in a snare while staring down the wolf.

  “I haven’t entertained a groupie since the night of the last concert you attended.”

  My mouth went slack. He’d literally struck me speechless. And I was pretty sure my brain short-circuited. Was this a come on? Was he hitting on me?

  His lips pressed together as his eyes sparkled with contained laughter. That snapped me out of my daze.

  “So, have you entertained regular girls or have you just had the peanut butter on hand?”

  He threw his head back and roared with laughter and it was so infectious, I soon joined him. “You think I’d punch the munchkin with peanut butter? It does have natural oils and is quite tasty, but I assure you, I only use those type
s of lubricants for the benefit of my partner.” He smirked. “I’m more of a baby oil type guy.”

  He was seriously talking about masturbation with me. The heat in my cheeks was hot enough to fry an egg on. Should I tell him how I beat the button? No, that would throw this into a whole other level of awkward.

  He closed my mouth with a finger under the chin. “Ready?”

  “Yeah,” I squeaked. In record time, I got the seatbelt off and my hand on the door, but he stopped me.

  “Astrid?” He waited until I looked at him before he continued. And he waited quite a bit because I was trying my best not to turn around. When I did, he wasn’t the debonair lothario he was a few seconds ago. “In all seriousness, my offer is a real one. And I want you to take me up on it. The only time I’m not there after work is when I’m practicing with the band, but sometimes we do it there. You might see my mom. When she’s strung out, she can look kind of scary, but she’s harmless.”

  He ran a hand through his buzzed hair. It was almost like he was afraid of my response. Or at the very least, anxious. I wasn’t so easily scared off, and he was right. I’d already seen his mom. As long as he didn’t judge me for my parents, I wouldn’t judge him for his.

  “I’d love to take you up on it. I can’t leave my house all the time, but I can come over as much as I can. That will at least limit the time around my parentals.”

  He nodded.

  This time it was me who stopped him when he started to open his door. He loved a mom who didn’t deserve his love. He took care of her when she did nothing but bring him heartache. How different from my own, where I prayed every day to find a way to leave sooner. And the knowledge that once I did, I was gone without so much as a goodbye. “Do you think I’m a bad person? For wanting to get away from my family so bad?” I bit my lip. My feelings were dangling on this line between us and it would take nothing for him to crumple them in his hands. He seemed like a knight in rock band armor while I was the ungrateful street rat, with a penchant for spying on people.

  His smile was soft but infinitely melancholy. “No, it makes me wish I were stronger when it came to my own mother. But I don’t think I could ever do that.”

  I opened my mouth to say…something, right as someone banged on my window.

  As much as I hated and loved that this conversation was over, I was excited to see the other guys. They promised me a fun night out without any trouble. I couldn’t wait.

  “Why the sad faces?” Thatcher grinned as he bent down to peek in the car.

  A huge smile spread across my face. I saw him every school day for an hour, but I loved having time with him outside of class, where we could be Astrid and Thatcher instead of teacher and student.

  “No sad faces.” I said as I pushed the door open. He stepped back and allowed me to join him in the beautiful night air.

  He looked from me to Beck with an odd expression before it cleared completely. “I have a table all set up for us.” He placed his hand on the small of my back when I started walking toward the back door.

  I stiffened, then forced myself to relax. This was new. When did Thatcher start to touch me so freely? At school there was always two to three feet of distance between us at all times, in case nosy students happened by wherever we had set up that day. The heat of his hand burned through my shirt but not in a bad way. More like a way that spelled trouble. The good kind? With Beck on my other side, and my entire body vibrating from the tension, I thought it was the bad kind.

  Before this last month, boys were the last thing on my mind, but now, with my future appearing brighter than it ever has, all of these distracting thoughts invaded my mind anytime I thought about the guys that rallied around me. It was weird. I couldn’t say I was a fan of these raging hormones racing through my system and giving me ideas I should not be having. Especially not about more than one person.

  “You don’t want to be at the table. Astrid will miss the best parts of the show.” Beck sidled up to me and slid his fingertips along my forearm until he linked our fingers.

  “The table is the best way to see you play. She can see the whole stage without people trying to trample her.” Thatcher moved his hand a fraction south and my eyes popped open as both boys stepped up beside me and glared at each other.

  “How about we start at the table and when it’s time for Beck to go on, we’ll sit at the front where I was last time?” There, problem solved and everyone’s happy. I gripped the camera bag in my hands, clutching it to my chest.

  A tense silence settled over us before a rowdy car of teenagers thumped by, their boisterous laughing staining the frigid air.

  “Sure. If that’s what you’d like to do, that’s what we’ll do.” Thatcher shrugged like it was no big deal and smiled down at me.

  “Perfect. Awesome. Let’s head inside and see if the other guys are here yet.” Beck slipped the strap of his guitar over his head, clapped his hands and started for the door. He was slightly less ecstatic than Thatcher, wearing a scowl as he went.

  We walk in an awkward blob until we reach the paint scraped door, where we moved into a single line. Maybe this wasn’t as awkward as I really thought it was. I had a tendency of seeing awkwardness everywhere, so chances were high that my presence was the reason for the uncomfortable air floating around us.

  Everything was the same as last time. Stagehands nodded at Beck as he passed, desperate groupies huddled in a circle shooting come-hither smiles our way. They recognized Beck, but when their gaze landed on Thatcher, a split second of confusion crossed their faces before straightening up and pushing their breasts together.

  Yeah, I know. Having Beck and Thatcher in the same room is something dangerous.

  This time when we entered the makeshift lounge for the band, it looked like the festivities had already started. Rhett and Will, two of Beck’s band mates, each loosely held a girl on their laps, eating each other’s faces like it held the key to eternal youth. Not an attractive sight. At all.

  Thatcher caught my hand and tugged me toward the door. “Seriously, man? This is where you bring Astrid? I’m taking her out front to wait for Rhys and Jonah.”

  Beck whipped around and stalked toward us. “This is my band. She’s been here before.” He rumbled his indignation. When his chest touched my shoulder, he stopped. The glare he sent Thatcher didn’t speak of their easygoing friendship. It said things weren’t all sunshine and peanut butter frosting from Beck’s perspective.

  Andrew, leaning in the darkened corner with a bottle of water, waved at me over Beck’s shoulder like the adorable high school boy he was, and I returned it with a half-smile right before Beck shifted and blocked my view of the room.

  Thatcher dipped his head next to mine and spoke so low, only Beck and I could hear him. “I get that. But I know Rhett and Will. In less than five minutes, those girls are going to be topless at least. You can’t seriously be okay with Astrid being here for that?” He shook his head and moved to grip my wrist instead of my hand. His fingers loosened when he stepped into me, much the way that Beck was, creating an awkward Astrid sandwich.

  I peeked around Beck, and sure enough, there were now hands under tight tank tops. They were going to stretch out the cotton, and then they’d look silly walking out with weird pockets where the shirt wasn’t painted onto their skin.

  This was a time I wouldn’t bet against Thatcher. And he had a point, I didn’t want to be here when clothes were shed. Heat scorched my cheeks just thinking about where this scene was headed. Now if I could be hidden behind a shelf where no one could see me that would be a different story. But I wasn’t. I was in the center of the room where others could easily focus on me.

  Beck twisted around, froze, then slowly faced us again. His face was grim and there was an apology in his eyes when he met my gaze. “I’m sorry Astrid. It doesn’t usually get like this before the show. I would have sent you out front already if I knew these jackasses were in this kind of mood. Why don’t you go on out, and I’ll get y
ou when our set is done?” He touched my elbow and stepped back, releasing us from the room. He might as well have pushed us through the door.

  I kept my gaze over my shoulder, watching Beck as Thatcher pulled me out of the room, until he was no longer visible.

  “Jesus, Astrid. You’ve really hung out back there before?” Each word pounded into me with their judgment and I snatched my hand from his.

  “Yes. I’ve been back here with Beck. What does that matter?” Did he think I was some ten-year-old that thought babies were immaculate conceptions, bestowed on the truly Godly women? Please. He grunted as I shoved past him, heading for the door that nearly vibrated with angry bass. Perfect. It was an answer to my rising mood.

  Thatcher grunted again, and caught me right before my fingers would have touched the dented metal doorknob. He spun me around and when I looked up at him, his tortured eyes met mine in a desperate apology. Coal black hair fell over his eyes, giving him a devilish James Dean look before he raked his hair away from his face.

  “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you would act that way.”

  Wait. He thought I participated in skeezy backdoor orgies? Did he not know me at all?

  “Okay, maybe I made that worse. The expression on your face says you want to kick my ass five ways from Sunday.” The corners of his lips quivered, and only made my foul mood darker. “You’re a good girl. I know that. To think of you in a nasty setting where people are nearly having sex on a couch that has more STDs than an underground whorehouse… it just doesn’t sit well with me. Mainly because I bet you’ve never had sex.” On his last word, his eyes popped open like they were threatening to vacate his sockets.

  “Excuse me?” I screeched. I opened my mouth to… something. I didn’t even know what I wanted to tell him, but it would have been epic and appropriately put him in his place. Instead, I gaped at him, doing my best impression of a pitiful fish out of water.

  “Damn it. Fuck. I—” he slipped his warm hand in mine and pulled me down to the other end of the hallway, cramming me in some type of supply room. Actually, it was more of a luxury supply closet. There was a fresh linen glade air freshener in the corner that upped the fancy.