Page 67 of Your Rhythm
“I have to make a call,” I announce, before getting up off the couch.
JP gives me a suspicious glance. “You’re not calling the snake, are you?”
That’s exactly who I was planning on calling. I wanted to call her as soon as I heard about Ace. I feel stronger when she’s around, like all my problems shrink in size until I can step right over them.
From the evil eyes I’m getting from JP and Cole right now, I can tell they don’t approve.
“That’s not really your business, is it?” I ask.
Cole shakes his head slowly from side to side. “It kind of is, man.”
“What part of ‘she’s a journalist; don’t trust her’ do you not understand? This is literally the worst possible time for you to talk to her.”
I could take JP more seriously if he didn’t have a sandwich in each of his hands, but I respond with the note of a threat in my voice all the same.
“What part of ‘I like her, she’s a good person’ do you not understand? You guys are acting like I’m being childishly naive about this. Do you think I would jeopardize the band over someone I wasn’t sure about?”
“If that person had nice tits, sure,” JP quips.
Ham sandwiches hit the wall on the other side of the room as I flip the tray over and let it clatter to the floor. JP gapes at me, eyes wide with a sudden terror.
“Wrong thing to say.”
I don’t even recognize my own voice. In the next second, Cole’s tugging on a fistful of my shirt and pushing me back down on the couch.
“What the fuck, man? This isn’t—”
A knock at the door cuts him off. He leaves JP and I sitting there avoiding each other’s eyes as he goes to answer it. The excess testosterone in the room evaporates when we hear Shayla’s voice.
“He’s out! They got him out!”
JP jumps up and whoops, but I’m not as quick to start celebrating.
“Out on what? Bail?”
Shayla walks into the living room. Aside from a slight redness in her eyes, it’s hard to tell she’s probably been awake for over twenty-four hours. She’s wearing a getting-shit-done kind of leather jacket, and the green tips of her hair are gathered into a tight bun at the back of her head. This is the warrior Shayla I know, love, and fear. The sight fills me with the hope that things might not be as bad as we thought.
“He wasn’t charged.” She notices the ham sandwich explosion and raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stop to ask about it. “After hearing the whole story, I’m surprised they just let him walk withoutsomekind of charges, but he’s out free.”
I motion for her to sit down. “What’s the whole story? Have you talked to him?”
“Not directly. Just to some Atlas people.” She pauses and notices us all staring at her like we’re starving animals and she’s handing out scraps. “Jesus, you guys look like shit. Have you slept?”
“The story, Shayla!” JP urges.
“Right. Okay.” She draws in a breath. “So as I understand it, a guy approached Ace outside the bar and offered to sell him coke.”
“I knew he was a fucking crackhead!” I burst out.
Shayla gives me a dirty look. “He turned him down. The guy kept pressuring him. Things escalated and got violent. I don’t know if this is true, but I’m told Ace was only defending himself. The cops thought they were just shutting down a drunken fistfight, but when the dealer tried to run they searched him and found the drugs. Ace was taken in on suspicion of being involved.”
We all sit there for a moment, taking it in.
“So...” JP begins, when the silence has stretched on for so long I can almost hear the ham and lettuce remnants sliding down the wall, “everything is okay now?”
Shayla barks a laugh. “Have you been on the internet lately?”
We shake our heads and she sighs.
“Let’s just say, I think a photo of Ace getting punched in the jaw is on its way to becoming a meme. This is not something you’re going to live down overnight.”
“So what’s our next move?” I ask. “Ride it out?”
“That’s what I’d suggest, but no. The Atlas PR department has other plans.” She gets up and swings her purse onto her shoulder. “I’m actually here to collect you, boys. We’re going to a press conference.”
