Page 99 of One Last Verse

“No. I think I’m just going to disappear for a couple of years,” I joked, walking over to my computer.

There, in my inbox, sat an unread email from Margerie Helm. My gaze skimmed over the text.What? No!I rubbed my eyes and read it again. Disappointment pulled at my chest.

Levi was still on the phone with me, quiet. His shallow breaths roared inside my head.

“That can’t be!” I muttered and stepped away from the computer. “Did she seem like a stuck-up bitch to you? I mean, she runs a fucking movie theater.”

“I’m sorry, Cass. I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but it sounds like she’s not fond of all this attention you’re getting in the tabloids.”

“So it’s my fault we lost the venue?”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m merely pointing out a potential problem.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I’m not asking you to do anything. I didn’t think people actually paid attention to this shit. Okay, so a guy got drunk and made a spectacle of himself. Who cares? He’s not even part of the project anymore.”

My rage was like a flame, burning everything around me. My room, my hope, my heart.

I killed the call and rushed into the living room. Ashton was watching TV and eating, my guess was lunch since it was too late for breakfast. A pile of textbooks sat on the coffee table next to his laptop. His gaze followed me as I torpedoed my way through the apartment, tossing and turning everything that stood in my way.

“What are you looking for?”

I stopped. “Your car keys?”

“They’re by the door.” He motioned at the line of hooks on the wall and continued to chew on the slice of pizza.

I stomped across the living room and grabbed the set.

Ashton finally caught on. “Wait! What for?” He sprung from the couch and stalked me to my room with pizza in hand. “What do you need my car for?”

“I’m returning it.”

“No!”

“I am, Ashton. This is not up for discussion.”

“It’s my car. Frankie gave it to me!”

I drew a deep breath and lowered my voice. My throat was stiff and itchy from last night. “Get out of my room, please.”

“It’s my car.” Ashton pouted.

“No, it’s not. It’s a handout from a guy who doesn’t know what the fuck to do with his money.”

“That’s not fair! What does it have to do with my car? Why am I being dragged into your stupid fight?”

“There’s no fight.” I walked over to my closet and grabbed the first thing I saw, a sweater and a pair of ripped skinny jeans, exactly what my emo alter-ego needed after countless hours of heels, makeup, and designer slacks. “You remember my eleventh birthday?”

He blinked at me with confused eyes and took a bite of his pizza.

“You were too little.” I looked at the empty space above me. Forgotten memories passed through my jaded mind. “That morning, Dad gave me a twenty-dollar bill. Maybe he was too lazy to get a present or simply didn’t know what I liked, but he put the money into my birthday card and told me to buy whatever I wanted.” I had to pause because sifting through images of my father always rattled me. “Then, that night, he came into my room and asked for the money back because he didn’t have any for beer.”

My brother’s face remained expressionless and his jaw stopped moving.

“I don’t want you to be disillusioned about people, Ashton,” I said calmly. “I know you have this image of Frank in your head, but he’s not what you think he is. No one is. And if you’re going to keep trusting people with everything you have, you’re going to get hurt badly.”

“You sound like you’re on your period.”

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