Page 10 of Rudimentary Distortion

“Why don’t you pack some of the grub, and we’ll head to the shack,” Cain, Trevor’s other friend, said as he smacked Lars’ back. “Trev is up for a jam session.”

Lars had the smoldering tortured artist appeal, but Cain had that “I’m so huge that you’ll look like a little mouse standing beside me” appeal. I was five foot seven, and the guy was so huge that I only came to his armpit. The expression “climb him like a monkey” described guys like Cain.

“You want to come along, Billie?” Trevor asked with the sweetest smile.

I liked Trevor. A smart kid with an enormous heart. Trevor was always kind to everyone, no matter who. He was a pure soul. Of the three of them, it was Trevor who looked like he didn’t belong. He was a genuinely sweet soul who everyone wanted to be around. Trevor was the light, even though he was surrounded by darkness.

“You can come,” Cain said.

“You play an instrument, Billie?” Lars asked.

I smiled. “I played piano a bit as a kid, but I’m not very good, I’m afraid. But I love music.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s your favorite band?” Cain asked, biting into a carrot stick.

I crossed my arms, a little irritated that I was being quizzed. “Nirvana.”

Cain nodded. “Respect. You can roll with us.”

“Billie Goat Gruff,” Lars shouts, arms raised as he tries to balance his giant plate of food. “Did you have a good night?”

I shake my head to banish the past and step toward him. “I did, thank you.”

Lars peeks over my shoulder toward Kaye. “Take the day off. We’ve got this.”

Kaye looks frustrated as she places her hands on her hips. “If you think I’m leaving you alone with a reporter after the stunts you pulled yesterday, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Take a hike, Kaye,” Cain chips in. “We’ve got this.”

“When all this blows up in your face, don’t come crying to me,” Kaye huffs as she storms out the door.

“Alone at last,” Cain says, puffing on his joint before passing it to me.

I shake my head, turning down his offer.

“Suit yourself, but I figured it might shake off that tight-ass act you’ve got going for yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be a rock reporter? What’s up with those old lady sweaters? It’s like you’re trying to channel your upper-class pedigree or something. It’s kind of funny since we all know how much you like to slum it.”

6

Cain

Mess her up.

All I can think about is ruffling Billie’s feathers. I want her sweating and nervous. It irritates me that she seems so put together, as if everything that happened between us didn’t affect her.

She tugs her granny gear around her body, a way of shielding herself, I suppose. But I like what she’s wearing underneath. It’s the old Billie—a mix of grunge and conservative housewife.

“I like your shirt,” I say as I make rings of O’s. “It’s a hell of a lot sexier than that beige. I always liked you in black, Tinkerbell. You should peel off the extra layer of bullshit.”

She looks good in her old lady sweater, a little too good for my liking. She’s wearing it to hide the curves of her body, curves that had me on my knees ten years ago. If I’m honest, she’d still have me begging now.

Billie Richmond is still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Not pretty in the conventional sense, but I think she’s drop-dead gorgeous. She’s smart, funny, and has a big fucking heart. A fucking ten, and I let her walk away. Something I’ve regretted every day for the last ten years.

I want to kick myself for being an asshole to her, but she also took whatever bullshit Lars threw at her. She laid down and played dead.

So did you.

The small voice in the back of my mind taunts me. Yes, well, at least I stayed. Sure, I could’ve fought him on the decision, but I’d just lost someone I loved to the Grim Reaper, and the thought of losing another petrified me.