by Smyth, R. A
Walking towards him, I press up onto my toes, my arms wrapping around his neck. His hands settle on my hips, his fingers pressing into me, telling me how much he needs me right now.
“Don’t look like that,” I murmur. “Don’t let him taint us.”
“But,—”
“I love you,” I interject, enthusing every ounce of feeling I have for him into my words, aware the other guys can probably hear us. All of them know I love them, but I’m not sure if they know how I feel about the others. Right now, I don’t care. This is about Barrett, about assuaging his guilt and making sure we are okay. “I don’t regret it.”
He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. “I could never regret it,” he whispers, some of the guilt fading from his eyes as he presses his lips to mine in a chaste kiss filled with all the words he doesn’t know how to say.
________
With Kirk’s men still out on the roads, we’ve started coming to school earlier, when we’re less likely to run into them. Thankfully, we haven’t seen any more of them at the school and Oliver has been great at keeping us updated with locations for the scouts.
On the plus side, coming in early means I’ve had more time in the library to get work done. I’ve even convinced the guys to come with me, so we’re all on track to graduate in the summer—a huge achievement considering the amount of other crap we’re dealing with.
We usually go to our lockers as soon as we get in so, when the bell rings, we can head straight to class. This morning is no different. Ty’s talking our ears off about some car show he watches on YouTube, when I first notice something stuck all over Barrett’s locker. It catches me as weird. No one in the school would dare mess with either of them, or any of us by extension.
My steps slow as we get closer and the pages stuck to his locker come into focus.
“In his next video he’s going to—”
“What is that?” Aiden interrupts, clearly seeing the same thing I am.
“What the hell?”
“Oh, shit.”
We all freeze in the hallway, our focus zoning in on the locker, or more importantly, what’s plastered all over it.
What the fuck are we looking at?
“Who would have done this?” Ty gapes.
“Are you dense? There’s only one person who could have done this,” Aiden snaps. After Kurt’s video last night, all of us are on edge and stressed out.
Paying no attention to either of them, I focus on the locker. Photos have been glued to every square inch of it. My eyes jump from photo to photo, trying to work out what I’m seeing. There’s so much blood. I don’t know whose blood it is or where or when the photos were taken, but whoever it was must be dead. There’s no way anyone could survive losing that much blood.
Turning to look at Barrett, his eyes are wide as saucers, his face paler than it was this morning, as he takes in the scene in front of us.
Looking back at the image once more, realization hits me. I recognize the room in the pictures. I’ve never been in it, but I’ve seen photos of it. Photos very similar to the ones now stuck to the locker.
“I think we just confirmed who killed your dad.” Aiden says in a monotone voice. He sounds like he’s talking about the fucking weather and not discussing the violent death of Barrett’s father. Despite how removed and uncaring he sounds though, there’s a glimmer of concern in his eyes as he glances at Barrett, waiting for his reaction.
“What? Who?” Barrett asks, not catching on. His eyes are too busy taking in every dark image on the locker, I’m not even sure he’s paying much attention to what we’re saying.
“Kurt,” I say quietly, almost scared that just saying his name will make him appear. He’s like a fucking ghost that pops up when things are either going fine for once, or when we’re already neck deep in other shit.
At the sound of his name, Barrett pulls his attention from the locker to look at me. “Kurt? How do you know for sure? These are crime scene photos.”
“They’re not,” Preston tells him, having moved closer to get a better look at the photos. I agree with him. At first glance I thought they were too. Who else would take photos of a crime scene and hold on to them? It’s been weeks since Barrett’s father’s murder. Who would hold on to evidence that places them at the scene of such a gruesome crime? Oh yeah, I know, a fucking psychopath.
“The main light is on in these photos,” Preston says, pointing to a couple of the images. “And look at the curtain in this one, there’s no light shining through from the window behind it, so it’s still dark out. Besides, by the time we arrived the next day, the blood had all dried and was a darker color, but you can see patches where it’s still wet.”
“There’s only one whacko we know who likes to taunt us with shit in lockers,” Aiden finishes.
The five of us stand in silence for a long minute, staring at the locker and each other, trying to work out our next move. Until now, Kurt has been focusing on me. He’s made threats towards the guys, but this is the first move he’s made to actually do something about them.
We can’t let anyone else see this. “We have to get rid of this,” I croak out, the thought of Barrett having to deal with any of this making me panic. Stepping in front of the locker, I tug at the photos, trying to pull them from the locker. The fucker has super glued them on, meaning only tiny parts tear off as I dig my nails into the edges. My inability to remove the photos only irritates me further until I’m banging on the locker in annoyance.
“I think we’re going to need something a little stronger than your wrath to get rid of them,” Ty says softly from behind me, his hand squeezing my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Nail polish remover works on super glue,” I recall, suddenly remembering a long-forgotten memory of my mum trying to superglue an ornament back together after she’d thrown it across the room in one of her fits. In the process, she’d managed to superglue her fingers to it. When I came home from school, I found her crying on the sofa, having nearly torn the skin off of her fingertips.
I’d asked our elderly neighbour if she knew what to do, and the woman had handed me a bottle of nail varnish remover and some cotton buds. It worked wonders, unsticking my mum’s hands within seconds.
Of course, she threw that same ornament at my head several weeks later in yet another fit. She missed, thankfully, but it hit the wall and didn’t survive another smashing.
“I’d have to check my purse, but I might have forgotten my nail polish remover today, love. Any chance you brought yours?” Ty asks, pulling me out of my memory. I can hear the faint sound of laughter in his tone, making me breathe out a chuckle as I lean back into him, awed at how calm he can be in the face of all we’ve had to handle. Nothing ever seems to phase him.
Sensing I need some of his strength, he moves in closer behind me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist.
“The chemistry lab should hopefully have acetone. It’ll do the same job,” I explain, clearly the only one who has studied up on their chemistry. “And we’ll need some cloths.”
“I’ll go get some,” he murmurs, kissing me on the temple before stepping away and taking off down the hall.
We’re all still standing around, staring at the photos and discussing what to do about Kurt when Ty comes back, a large bottle of acetone in his hands and a cloth for each of us.
Taking a cloth each and soaking it in the overpowering fruity acid, we each pick a part of the locker and begin slowly ungluing the photos, throwing them into a bin bag Ty had the foresight to find.
It takes us nearly the full hour, but finally we pull the last photo from the locker. There’s still clumps of glue here and there, but there are no photos or telltale signs of what might have been stuck to the glue. That’s good enough for me.
“What do we do with the photos?” I ask, looking down at the bag. We can’t just shove them into a bin where anyone could find them.
We all stand looking at the bag, trying to work out the
best way to destroy them.
“We could store them in one of our lockers and bring them home and burn them this afternoon?” Ty suggests after a while, when no one else seems to have any better ideas.
“I guess it’ll have to do. We don’t have time now to get rid of them,” Preston grumbles, running his hand through his hair, annoyed that we can’t be done with all of this right now.
I don’t like the thought of leaving them in a locker all day either. Kurt has proven he has access to mine, so what’s stopping him from getting into any of their lockers? But equally, what else are we to do with them now?
“Yeah, fine, I’ll take them,” Aiden sighs, grabbing the bag and moving down the hall to his locker. Shoving the bag inside, he grabs his books for the entire day so he doesn’t have to open the door again and risk anyone else seeing what’s inside.
The door at the front entrance is pulled open, signalling the arrival of the first students of the day, just as Aiden slams his locker shut. Talk about fucking lucky timing. The first bell hasn’t even rung and I’m already over this day.
________
I’m texting Mia at lunch, trying to distract myself from the incriminating evidence hiding in Aiden’s locker. If someone discovered it now, Barrett wouldn’t be the one being questioned by police, Aiden would. And something tells me he doesn’t have the same clean record Barrett probably has.
Me: Hey, sorry I haven’t been in touch lately. Family drama. How are things?
Mia: Hey girl! Don’t worry, Barrett stopped by and said the same—BTW girl he is hot AF! Did you say you weren’t sleeping with him?! Cause damn, he’s fucking fiiiiine.
I laugh at Mia’s text, realizing I haven’t updated her on my new relationship status. She already knew about Aiden and Ty, and that I was friends with Barrett, but not that we’re now dating. Or that I’m also dating Preston too. Yeah, I’m not too sure how to even bring up the conversation.
Me: Things might have changed between us since then…
Mia: *shocked face emoji* You go, girl! I bet he’s fucking great in the sack. All those muscles…*drool face emoji*
“I am fucking great in the sack,” Barrett murmurs, making me jump. I hadn’t realized he was so close, but he’s clearly been reading my texts over my shoulder.
When I turn to scowl at him, he waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively, and I can’t help but crack a smile at his boyish antics.
My phone buzzing draws my attention back to the screen where I see another text from Mia.
Mia: *eggplant emoji* *two finger salute emoji* *pointed finger emoji* *peach emoji* #ineedmyownharem
“Damn, I like this girl,” Barrett laughs from beside me, copping on to what Mia is indicating faster than I do. The minute it registers though, I burst out laughing. Oh my god, Mia!
The sound of another text coming through draws my attention, but instead of a new message from Mia like I was expecting, a notification from an unknown number has me tensing in my seat.
Barrett, sensing the change in my body language, turns away from his conversation with Ty, giving me a ‘what's up’ look.
Coming out of Mia’s chat, I show him my list of messages, namely the unread one at the top from an unknown number. He tenses too, obviously having come to the same conclusion as me. There’s only one person that could be.
“Guys,” Barrett says, loud enough for the others to hear, cutting across whatever they were talking about. The word comes out as a harsh snap, the unusual seriousness of his tone immediately drawing everyone's attention. “Sophie’s got a new text.”
Ty’s easy-going smile drops off his face, all of their features darkening, instantly understanding what Barrett is saying.
“We shouldn’t discuss this here,” Preston says, casting his eyes around the dining hall. I’ve already looked, Kurt’s not here, but he’s right. The less prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, the better. “Come on.”
The five of us hastily get to our feet, grabbing our trays and striding out of the hall as quickly as possible without drawing any unwanted attention. We follow Preston through the mostly empty halls, assuming he has a place in mind where we can talk about this.
Entering the music department, understanding dawns on me. The soundproofed music rooms. Smart. We all trail into the first empty one we come across, Ty closing and locking the door behind us.
They all stand there looking at me expectantly until I pull my phone out of my bag, my hands already shaking. What the hell is his message going to be this time?
Barrett gently takes the phone from my hand once I’ve unlocked it, navigating to my messages and opening the most recent one. “It’s another video.”
“Play it,” Aiden tells him. Unlike the nervous jitters in my stomach, he sounds completely unfazed. We could be discussing homework for all anyone would know based on his tone.
Doing as he’s told, Barrett presses the play button. Initially, I don’t hear anything. Maybe the video isn’t what we think it is. After a second, the sound becomes loud enough to be picked up by the recorder. Laboured breathing. It quickly progresses to fast, heavy pants and I glance down at the phone in confusion just in time to see the fucker getting himself off. Fucking gross. What pisses me the fuck off is that I recognize what the shithead is jerking off into. My fucking panties! The purple lace is impossible to miss against his pasty white tween peen.
“Sophie,” a hoarse voice grunts as he comes. Hearing my name like that coming from someone other than my guys has my lunch threatening to make a reappearance. Fuck no, that is something I never want to hear again.
“Fucking hell,” Preston explodes, fisting his hair.
“He’s really on a rampage today, isn’t he?” Ty grits out, taking the phone from Barrett and tapping on it. “It’s a different number than last time,” he explains, glancing around at us. “He must have bought a bunch of burner phones.”
“So we can’t stop him,” I cry. “Every time we block him, he’s just going to use a different number.” I can feel myself becoming hysterical. When the fuck is this going to end? Will it ever be over? If he’s not targeting me, he’s going after the guys. I can’t handle anymore shit being thrown our way.
“Hey love,” Ty says, stepping in front of me. He places a palm on each of my cheeks, his face so close I can't see anything but him. “We’re going to sort it out,” he promises.
“How?” I croak, the word coming out as a squeak.
“Don’t worry about that right now. Just focus on me, yeah? Take a deep breath with me.”
I stare into his brown eyes, taking a deep breath in when he does, and letting it go with him until I’m feeling a bit better. His eyes soften, a small smile curling on his lips as he pulls me back from my spiral. “There you are,” he murmurs, pulling me in for a hug and wrapping his arms tightly around me as I bury my head in his neck, taking a second to breathe in his warm, earthy scent. He smells like the forest after it’s rained. It’s a musky, comforting aroma that wraps around me, bolstering me.
Peeking out from under my lashes, I find the rest of my guys sporting various looks of concern and anger. Taking a final deep breath, I pull back from Ty’s embrace. Things feel overwhelming right now, but I can see the determination in their faces. They won’t stop until they’ve permanently dealt with Kurt.
Chapter 20
After Sophie has fallen asleep, Ty and I sneak out from beside her, meeting the other two downstairs. Barrett’s already got a glass of whiskey poured for each of us, setting the tone for this little chat.
I know everything is beginning to get to Sophie. The look in her eyes this morning when she saw the locker...that’s why we needed to have this conversation without her.
As we stood around the flaming bag of incriminating photos this evening, watching them burn, I silently vowed not to put her through any more shit. I can tell she’s close to her breaking point. She needs to know we have this, that we will do anything to keep her safe. What she doesn't need is to hear us
cuss that fucker out and argue with one another while we come up with a way to achieve just that.
“What did your PI find?” I direct to Preston the second we’re all seated. My anger is a barely controlled beast inside of me demanding vengeance, ideally in the form of torture and bloodshed. Unfortunately, Kurt has been a slimy fucker to pin down, and like Preston keeps fucking reminding me, we can’t just kill him. Honestly, though, I’m so far beyond giving a shit if we can just off him or not.
“Not much on Kurt,” Preston sighs, taking a large sip of his whiskey. “But he did find dirt on the Chadwick family...and I think I know how we can use it to get Kurt out of CWP.”
“Fine,” I relent. I’m willing to hear him out and give his plan a go, but if it doesn’t work, or if Kurt makes one more move against my girl, I’m done playing by the rules. I’ll do whatever the fuck I have to, to protect Sophie. If I end up in prison because of it, well then, it will have been fucking worth it. Sophie will be pissed as all hell at me, but she’ll get over it. I can trust that the others would be there to pick her up and look after her. Even the two idiots.
I always knew I’d end up wasting away half my life, or even dying in prison. You don’t grow up in the life I have without doing time at some point or another. I did a few stints in juvie when I was younger, but I’ve been lucky enough to dodge the slammer since I became old enough to be tried as an adult.
Most guys I know who’ve ended up locked up were fall guys. Men that are expected to step up and show their loyalty by taking the rap for something they didn’t do, all so higher ups can continue living a free life running things on the outside.
Every time shits gone south I’ve been fucking terrified Kirk would ask myself or Ty to take the fall. To refuse is a death sentence, but fuck, to agree could be a death sentence too. It’s not like it’s all pillow fights and friendship bracelets inside. Being part of a gang means every other gang out there wants you dead.
