“Just leave me alone! Both of you! I’m going outside to get some air,” Gracie slurred, getting to her feet, slapping at our hands as we tried to help her.
“I’m coming with you,” Maysie said, causing Gracie to glare at her.
Maysie turned to me. “I’ll be back. Tell Jordan, when they take their break where I’ve gone,” she said and I nodded, my gut twisting into knots as I watched her trail after a barely standing Gracie. I wanted to go after them, but I knew that I was currently the last person Gracie wanted to see. And I didn’t want to set her off any more.
I picked up Gracie’s overturned barstool and sat down. I couldn’t focus on the show. I barely heard the songs. My mind working through what I would say to Garrett. Then it would flip to Gracie and how I knew without a doubt that something had to be done for her, and soon.
I was so lost in the suck fest quagmire of my depressing thoughts that I almost jumped out of my skin when someone put their hand on my shoulder.
“Ahh!” I yelled and karate chopped the unsuspecting owner of the hand in the gut.
“Ugh! What the hell, Ri!” Jordan doubled over.
Oops.
“That’s what you get for creeping up on me. Next time it’s a knee to the nuts, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I grumbled.
Jordan rubbed his stomach and gave me a pained smile. “Heard loud and clear.”
The other guys in the band were milling around and I tried to make Garrett out in the crowd. I couldn’t find him and I was beginning to feel like my chance was slipping through my fingers.
“Where’s Mays?” Jordan asked, looking like a lost puppy. It was both incredibly sweet and incredibly nauseating how devoted he was to my friend.
“She’s outside with Gracie,” I said and Jordan made a face.
“That girl is getting to be a handful. Did you hear about what happened at our last show?” Jordan asked taking the beer that Lyla handed him and popping the top with a lighter.
“No, Maysie didn’t mention anything,” I said with surprise. I looked over Jordan’s shoulder, finally catching sight of Garrett. He was talking to some chick with a shirt that looked as though it would fit a toddler. She was pressing her boobs into his chest and he was smiling his infuriatingly lazy smile down into her face.
Jealousy was an ugly emotion. One that turned me into some sort of Viking berzerker. My hands clenched into fists, my nails cutting into my palms. I had bloodthirsty visions of ripping Miss Blondie’s hair out by the roots and keeping it as a battle trophy.
“She stripped down to her bra and panties and jumped on stage. I thought she was going to cause a riot,” Jordan was saying and I snapped back to the conversation.
“Wait, what?” I asked, wondering if I heard him correctly. Gracie was a fun loving girl, but I could not for the life of me envision her becoming an exhibitionist. She still clung to a shred of her “good girl” image.
Jordan looked over his shoulder and then back to me with an amused smirk on his face. “Yeah, just ask Maysie. I think you’ve got other things to take care of right now,” he said, tipping his beer back and taking a long drink.
I gave Jordan an annoyed click of my tongue as I hopped off the stool. “No one likes a know-it-all, Jordan,” I lectured, walking past him.
“And no one likes someone in denial, Riley,” he called over his shoulder.
Garrett was still smiling down at ho bag in the tight shirt when I finally made my way over to him. I had to shove my hands into my pants pockets so they wouldn’t turn into hardcore weapons and poke the girl’s eyes out.