Page 151 of On The Edge
“I don’t know, man. We did owe her one, you know.”
“We’re such fucking assholes. All of us. Imagine how she felt in high school.” Markus shakes his head sadly. “I want to go back in time and smack the shit out of myself for just walking away.”
“I know, I know,” I agree, partially because he’s coming down and serious conversations shouldn’t be had right now, but also because the way he’s talking is ripping my heart out.
I push open the door to our dressing room and Reis is standing, pacing with his phone in his hand nervously. Kai’s sitting there, watching him pace, with his hand over his mouth like he’s trying not to say anything.
“Did she message you?” I ask excitedly, before reasoning kicks in. Taking in their expressions, I realize they look like they’ve just stepped in shit and are nervous they’re going to get in trouble. “What is it?”
“I think… I think I’m going to call my mom,” Reis admits, holding up his phone.
Markus laughs at the worst fucking moment. “How would that bitch help us? She hates Melody, always has.”
I cringe at Markus' words, but he’s not wrong. Delivery, though? The delivery is very fucking wrong.
“I know that. But she’s the only person we have in Haven that we haven’t called to try and get eyes on Mel.”
“I don’t know, man.” I scratch the back of my head nervously.
“What do we have to lose?” Kai asks sadly. “If she’s about to give us a straight answer… I need to know. I need to know that Melody is in Haven. If she’s safe. I called our doorman and they haven’t seen her since we left. That means she never went back to our place.” Kai pulls at his short blonde hair. “I’ve been going crazy. Dreaming she’s all alone and out on the street. Cursing our names and hurting. I… I have to know she’s okay.” When Kai’s eyes meet mine, I can see the craze, the need, the exhaustion that tells me he really hasn’t been sleeping.
We all stay silent for a moment, but the energy between us is tense.
“Please!” Kai snaps, pushing to his feet aggressively. “I can’t fucking leave here to go get her myself, so I’m asking to use allthe fucking tools at our desposal to find her! Do it, Reis. Get the information and then lose her number.” Kai takes Reis' phone out of his hand, opens the contacts, finds Reis' mom and then hands the phone back to him. “This isn’t that hard.”
“Okay,” Reis says, taking a deep breath. “Okay. For Melody.”
“For Melody.” I repeat, nodding in support.
“I…Fuck,” Reis groans and presses the dial. “Here goes nothing.”
FORTY-FIVE
I toldmyself I wouldn’t call my mother. Ever.
But here I am.
For Melody.
“Hello?” an older voice on the other end answers. I’m hit with all the times she would bitch me out after school because I spent my time writing poetry instead of learning a skill she considered better. She wanted me to go to college. Become a doctor or something “well-paying and better than making up stories in my head about that girl all day.” She would yell at me for my obvious feelings for Mel; about how she thought it was disrespectful that Melody was friends with meandthe guys.
And any time, any fucking time Melody came around, Mom would give her the cold shoulder while being loving and open to the guys.
It killed me.
“Mom,” I say strongly, clearing my throat. “It’s Reis.”
“Reis,” she cries excitedly. “Oh my god, Reis. How are you, my boy? You’re in England right now, right? I’ve been watching your career, son. You… You did it. What you always said you were going to do. Make it big.”
She sounds almost reverent as she speaks. Awed. Like she’s trying to convince me she believed it all along, even after spending most of my upbringing telling me I wouldn’t amount to anything.
“Yes. The guys and I are in the UK. We’ll be heading back to London tomorrow. I need to ask you a favor actually,” I say, jumping right to the chase. I don’t want to stand here and listen to her lie to me to try and get in my good graces. I’m not interested in small talk with this woman.
I’m just hoping her apparent love for this version of me will make it easier for me to get what I need.
“A favor?” She half-laughs, half-scoffs. “You call me up after seven years asking me for a favor?”
I mentally groan. That tone in her voice is filled with disbelief and disdain.
