“Come on.” I nod to the door and put my hand in his arm. “Come with us.”
Looking right past me, Matt sneers at Jonah. “Why the hell did you bring her here? Get her out of here.”
“Come on, Man,” Jonah pleads in the brief silence between songs.
Soon, we’re encapsulated in the late 1980’s with some sexy-sweet rock anthem that has the older men in the crowd on the edge of their seats, wallets out. Against my better anything I look at the stage and find a girl who wasn’t even born when this song topped the charts. It must make the men feel younger, I guess, to listen to music they jammed to in high school while looking at girls the age they wish they still were.
“I’m not going with you guys. Leave me here. Get out.” Matt hasn’t moved much, but his voice is growing anxious.
“Let’s just go get you home and into bed and that’ll be the end of it.” My hand is still on his shoulder and I give it a small squeeze.
He shakes it off. “It won’t be the end of it. This is just the beginning …” He leans back, wrapping his hand over his mouth. “This is where it all started for him.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. We know, Matt. Your dad ruined his life starting here. And you’re mad he’s been given a second chance so you’re deciding to have all kinds of fun. Look around you. Does this look fun to you? You don’t want to be this guy.”
“I am this guy, Kennedy. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Matt’s words pierce through me and I take a step back.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Jonah stands up for me.
Matt stands, not quite dwarfing Jonah, but posturing to him nonetheless. “And don’t bring her to places like this. I trusted you, and this is what you do to repay that trust?” He sways a little before the alcohol he’s already ingested pushes him back to his seat.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Sweet Jesus. It’s Roland. My palms sweat, shaking as I put my phone in my back pocket.
With a shaking voice, I kneel in front of Matt, who hasn’t made eye contact with me since some time yesterday. “Matt?” I ask, putting a hand on his knee. “Look at me please.”
Casting a dark glance downward, he says nothing but his eyes connect with mine. Dark, hollow pits. “What?” he finally mumbles.
“Please just leave here with us and get in the car. You need to get out of here. Please. I care about you, Matt. I love you and I don’t want you doing this to yourself.”
He curls his lip. “You don’t love me. You’re just saying that because you want me to do what you want. That’s how people are—tell you what you want to hear in order to get what they want.”
My eyes fill with tears. “I’m saying that because it’s true, and because we need to go. We don’t have much time before people come looking for us.” My phone vibrates nearly constantly, highlighting frantic phone calls from Roland. Or my mom if he’s already told her I’m gone. I don’t think he’d do that though. He knows how to choose his battles with me and her.
“Kennedy,” he growls. “Get out.”
“Is there a problem over here?” another annoyingly beefy bouncer asks, approaching from behind.
I have a split second to make a decision. Either I can tell this bonehead that Matt is in here, drinking underage after having snuck in alcohol—which will involve an ugly exit for Matt and a trip to jail most likely—or I can lie.
When in Rome …
Shaking my head, I give Beefcake #2 a smile and a wink. “No problems here. We’re on our way out.” I interlace my fingers with Jonah’s, giving him a small tug to follow me. He does, and we exit the club without issue. And, without Matt.
“What now?” Jonah paces the sidewalk in front of The Pink Pony.
“We’re in deep shit,” I admit freely. “Roland is calling me.”
His eyes bulge so far out of his head I think for a moment he’ll need an ambulance. “Are you kidding?”
“Yeah,” I snap. “Because this is the time for jokes.”
Jonah holds out his hands, his voice trembling dangerously. “What are we going to do?”
Taking a deep breath, I pull my phone from my pocket. “It’s going to be okay,” I say. “Trust me. I’m not scared, which must mean this is coming from somewhere other than me,” I mumble, pointing to the sky.
“Trust you with what?”
I shake my head. “I don’t care if Matt never talks to me again, but we need to get him out of there.” Tapping Roland’s contact information, I take a deep breath and hold it in as the phone rings, a lifetime of needing him brewing in my throat.
“Kennedy?” Roland answers in a sheer panic. “Where are you? Where’s Jonah? Are you with him?”
His concern is so primal, so tangible, that I let the cool brick wall behind me hold me up. “Dad,” I sob, “Matt’s in big trouble. I need you.”
Saying the words is too much. I slide down the wall, leaving me crouching above some rocks, questionable wrappers scattered around my feet.
Dad, I need you.
In a split second, Jonah is squatting next to me, arm around my shoulder.