“Go fuck yourself,” Ben said. “Since no one else will,” he murmured, stalking toward the kitchen.
Wheeler slammed the door and slouched in a nearby chair. I jogged up the stairs and followed the sound of a guitar string being plucked over and over, then a girl laughing like a hyena.
The thick smell of cigarettes filled the hallway, and it sounded like one of his usual jam sessions. It reminded me of the early years when we’d hang out in hotel rooms with his band. To an outsider, it might have looked like a bunch of guys goofing off, but those were the nights they had written the most inspiring music.
I filled the doorway and scanned the room. Joker was lying upside down in the beanbag chair, tapping his drumsticks on his knees. Ren leaned on the bar with two women attached to him like vultures. Trevor was sitting on the floor making notes on several sheets of paper, strumming a few chords and writing more down. This looked like the tail end of a session and not the beginning, so I turned around and headed toward Jericho’s room. A red glow spilled from beneath his door.
I turned the knob, ready to wake him up with the good news. If only I had brought in the money and drugs to show him, although waving narcotics in his face might have been insensitive. I didn’t think he’d mind the cash.
“Guess what we found, Jericho?”
In the glow of the cruel light, a blonde sat astride Jericho on the bed. I blinked in horror, lost in a cutting memory from decades ago. Reliving a night I’d spent years trying to forget. As I stood there, the hope of what might have been between us was crushed out like a cigarette in a dirty ashtray.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she said over her shoulder.
I stepped back, my feet itching to run. But something caught my eye. She was topless in a pair of panties and had her hands all over his bare chest. Jericho’s shirt was pulled up to his neck, but his eyes were closed.
This was so wrong.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaking as much as my hands. “Jericho? Why isn’t he moving?”
“Mind your own business,” she slurred, leaning down to kiss him. Her mouth ran across his face, and Jericho’s head lolled to the side.
Something vicious snapped within me—a fiercely protective emotion that gripped my heart.
“Get off him!”
My heart raced wildly as I rushed forward and fought to pull her off. She scratched my arm, and I tossed her on the floor.
“What the hell?” I heard Austin say. “I leave the house for one goddamn hour…” His voice trailed off, and there was a commotion in the game room of profanities, apologies, and girls vocalizing their complaints.
“Jericho, wake up,” I said, slapping his cheek. I pulled his eyelids back and he groaned, struggling to open them.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured. Then a string of unintelligible words mumbled out, and I slapped his cheek harder.
“What’s wrong with you?”
As soon as the words left my lips, I grabbed his arm, looking for tracks. Then I searched the room for coke, pot… anything.
“Is he awake?” Austin stormed in the room and flipped on the light. “One of the girls spiked his drink with some kind of date-rape drug.”
Rage consumed me to the point where I couldn’t think straight. I flew out of the room and ran after the trail of voices moving out the front door.
“Is he conscious?” Wheeler asked, running by me up the stairs.
I couldn’t answer because all I saw was red. I blew through the front door and onto the porch like a hurricane, cutting a trail through the grass as I approached Jericho’s entourage.
I snatched the back of the girl’s shirt—the one who had decided it was okay to give drugs to a former addict. She whirled around, swinging her mane of blond hair.
“Hey!”
I punched her in the face and she went out like a light.
Her friends looked at me wide-eyed and began helping her up, dragging her to the car as they hurried to get away from me.
Joker approached me guiltily, hands wide. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I had no idea that was going to happen. Never thought a girl would slip drugs into one of our drinks. That’s scary as hell,” he said, wiping the sweat from his face. “I don’t tolerate drugs very well. Ren could give a damn, but Jesus, Jericho said he wasn’t feeling well, and we got so distracted that I didn’t notice Gina had left the room. Tell Jericho I feel like shit about the whole thing.”
“Tell him yourself.”
I went back in the house and found my keys hanging on the wall behind Jericho’s keys, covering the letter J. One of the boys had brought my car back to the house, and it was time for me to go.
Not because I wanted to, and not because I despised Jericho for shredding me apart with infidelity.
I was scared.