Page 13 of A Little Broken

“Exactly.”

Something flashes in her eyes, though it’s too quick for me to analyze.

“Or,” Tatum pushes herself to her feet and wipes her palms along her jeans. “You can sneak us out of here before we have to deal with any awkwardness, and you can introduce me to Doomsday like you promised.”

“I never promised to introduce you,” I remind her.

“Well, then it looks like I should be going.”

“Tate, he won’t say anything,” Rory starts.

She shoots her friend a look. “Not now, Rore.”

“He?” I interrupt. I shouldn’t care. I don’t even know this girl, but what’s with all the smoke and mirrors? So she knows Dodge.Most women would be over the fuckin’ moon to know a rockstar. Not Tate, though. The question is…why?

A strange, unspoken conversation transpires between the two as I watch, dumbfounded. Rory comes to some kind of conclusion, causing Tatum to look pissed.

“Because Dodger knows our families, Tate’s afraid he’ll tell them he saw us tonight which will open up an unnecessary can of worms,” Rory explains.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re not the only one with Lockwood Heights drama,” I point out. “And who cares if they know you’re here?”

Tatum scowls and folds her arms. “I may have told them I have the flu, which is why I couldn’t come home for my birthday.”

I nearly choke on my amusement but swallow it back. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah, and I love my parents, so I’d prefer not to make them question their parenting skills or our relationship in general all because of a little white lie,” Tatum answers.

When heavy footsteps echo from the hallway, Tatum pinches the bridge of her nose, adding a mumbled, “Fantastic,” just in time for Dodger, Tuke, and Judge to walk in the room. Unsurprisingly, Judge looks dead inside, and Dodger looks…bossy as always. Meanwhile, Tuke’s sucking down a joint like this is par for the course when it comes to touring.

He isn’t wrong.

Looks like shit’s about to get interesting.

4

PAXTON

Clearing my throat, I announce, “Tuke, Judge. This is Tatum and Rory, or as I like to call them, Birthday Girl and Baby.”

“You old enough to be here or are we gonna get the cops sniffing around for serving a minor alcohol on stage?” Judge demands.

Shit, I didn’t think about that.

I pin Tatum with a stare and wait for her response, trying to gauge exactly how much shit I might be in if she lied to me in the alleyway.

“I’ll be seventeen in June,” she tells him, sober as a fucking nun before a smirk teases the edge of her lips. “Just kidding.”

“Thanks for the fuckin’ heart attack,” Tuke grunts. “How old are you really?”

“It’s my twenty-first birthday.”

“And the baby?” Tuke prods. He turns to a red-faced teenager behind Tate.

“I-I didn’t drink anything, I swear,” Rory promises.

“Her name’s Squeaks,” Dodger corrects him. Not gonna lie. I’m surprised he lasted so long with keeping his big-ass mouthshut. With his arms spread wide, he approaches and pulls her into a hug. “Hey, baby girl. How you been?”

“Good,” she returns. “How are you?”

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