Page 61 of Feral Touch
“Ren!” I shouted. “Open up!” I pounded my fist on his apartment door. “Please! Are you home?”
Nothing. No answer. Dammit, I should have kept his key.
I walked the few blocks to Dark Sound Studios. The reception gave me a friendly smile, recognizing me.
“You looking for Ren?” she asked.
“Yeah. Is he up there?”
“Let me check.” She frowned when the phone rang and rang, then hung up. “I'm sorry, he's not answering.”
“Can you let me up? Maybe he's just in rehearsal and didn't hear his phone.”
The receptionist gave me a sympathetic shake of her head. “I'm sorry. I know you're working with Ren, but you can't go up without an official guest pass.”
I fought back tears, frustrated. I'd been looking for Ren all day. He still hadn't contacted me. The anonymous texter wouldn't respond to any of my messages. I had no idea where Ren was.
I shuffled out of the office building, eyes to the ground. I needed to see Ren. I needed to apologize. He needed to know I understood.
He needed to know it wasn't his fault.
I passed a digital billboard advertising Feral Silence as I wandered aimlessly downtown. Seeing Ren, even if only on a screen, was like a bullet to the gut. It's like he was everywhere. I swore to god, if I saw another girl wearing a Feral Silence t-shirt…
A memory niggled at the back of my neck. I'd seen t-shirt girl. I'd seen ads on my laptop.
But I'd also seen girls stalking Feral Silence's social media accounts. Hadn't Jen once pulled out her phone and told me exactly where Ren was based on the band's online presence?
I took out my own phone and brought up a couple different apps, doing real-time searches for mentions of the band's name. I wasn't really expecting anything to pop up, but there it was—a handful of photos and posts about Feral Silence doing a radio interview. I looked up the station. They were located in the east end, just a few transit stops away.
I didn't think twice. I whirled around and got on the subway.
I walked around the building, wondering where to ambush him. I eventually decided that a band as popular as Feral Silence would probably leave by the back door. I had to climb over a fence to get to the private parking lot out back and tore a small hole in the knee of my tights.
Worth it.
I hid behind a large blue van and waited for the band to emerge, fidgeting from one foot to the other with my eyes glued to my phone. I wanted to know the exact moment the interview was done.
How crazy was it that someone had the job of broadcasting their every move?
The back door opened. I peeked around the van. Kell came out first, laughing and shaking his head. Jayce was next, with Ailey at his side, a smug tilt to his chin. Morris followed behind quietly, hands in his pockets. He looked behind himself, a concerned look on his face, as if waiting.
Seconds later Ren emerged. His hair was tangled at the ends. His usual crisp dress shirt was un-ironed. His eyes were flat, staring at the ground, and his mouth was pressed into a firm line.
I swallowed hard. He still looked upset. Of course he would be, after what I'd done. I hadn't meant to hurt him, but it had obviously cut him deep.
I came out from behind the van. “Ren?”
His head whipped up, his expression astonished. “Ivy?”
“Hi.” It was such a stupid way to open the conversation, but I didn't know what else to say. Not with the other guys there. “Can we talk?”
He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, looking stunned.
“Ivy!” Kell said, approaching me, cheery as ever. “Great to see you. We were just heading back home. Why don't you and Ren get a ride together? We'll just call a taxi for ourselves.” As he spoke, he put a hand on my back and led me to a black limousine van. “Looks like you’re quite the internet sleuth.” He murmured into my ear.
I pulled back, confused, to find a grin on his face. Internet…?
“Was it you?” I asked. “You sent the text messages?”
