Bad Storm Page 9

  “To bad this only gives me wings, because I’m pretty sure a pair of those can’t do much for you if you’re in some kind of anti-werewolf danger.”

  I laughed, her joke actually warming me from the inside. “You know, maybe they could. Maybe you could fly me out of a situation. And I’m not a werewolf myself, you know,” I reminded her, giving her left shoulder a playful push.

  “I know,” she giggled, “at least, I think I know.”

  Once our laughter subsided, I couldn’t help but continue on with my string of burning questions. “So, I have to know, how is it that you believe anything Nick told you? I mean, don’t you find all of this completely insane?”

  Sierra took another swig of her drink and nodded thoughtfully. I could tell she was afraid to tell me something by the way her eyes flitted back and forth nervously.

  “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t believe him at first. But then…well, he gave me my memory back.”

  I gulped, realizing she was aware that he had wiped her memories. I hadn’t thought he would admit to that, since it was such a shady act to begin with.

  “Do you hate me for not telling you?” I winced.

  “Nah,” she shook her head, “I mean, at first I was kinda mad. I was hurt. But I get it. It’s not like you were the one who decided to do this to me, and I know you’ve been figuring shit out too.”

  I felt suddenly very ashamed about my outburst back in my mother’s driveway. Here she was, understanding about my situation which directly involved her and her memories, and I could hardly keep from screaming at her when she was caught in a compromising situation. I cast my eyes down in shame.

  “Hey, don’t feel bad.” Sierra patted my forearm reassuringly. “Nick said he wouldn’t have let you tell me anything anyway.”

  “Well if that’s the case, why did he?”

  Sierra hesitated. Again, there was something she didn’t want to tell me. “I mean, he said he didn’t want to wipe my memory twice. That doing that was something you do in extreme circumstances, and he figured I was around enough that I was bound to run into something again. He made me swear not to tell a soul, though.”

  “And you agreed?”

  She nodded earnestly, and I could see the sincerity glowing from her hazel eyes. “Yeah. Nick trusts me. And I really wouldn’t compromise your safety for anything Bailey. You’re my best friend.”

  The words coming from her lips were so pure and sincere. I could see her eyes rimming with some tears. I couldn’t help but throw my arms around her and pull her into a big hug.

  “I love you too, Sierra,” I murmured into her ear, and she patted a hand on my back. When she pulled away, I saw a single tear roll down her cheek before she dabbed it away in embarrassment.

  “I just felt so guilty about everything with Tony. I mean, I still do.”

  “It’s okay,” I said quietly, even though it still stung when she said it. “I just really want what’s best for you, and I…well you know about Tony. He’s messed up, he’s not in a condition to be in a loving relationship. Which is what you deserve.” I felt the pain of the admission well up inside of me. It was like I was saying my brother didn’t deserve love, that he was broken somehow.

  It was terrible to realize what was what I truly thought of him.

  “I know how you feel, Bailey. And I never meant to hide it from you, that’s why I tried to tell you in Atlanta, but so much came up and it was…easier to let the information fall to the sidelines.”

  I nodded, remembering the moments in which she had mentioned something she needed to tell me. The truth was she had clearly tried, I was just a self-absorbed dip-shit that didn’t have time to hear it.

  “But the truth is,” and at this she took in a deep breath, as if she were preparing herself to tell me something premeditated. I involuntarily tensed. “Well, you don’t always know what’s best for people. Or what they aren’t or are capable of.”

  I relaxed. “I know that,” I said, almost wanting to laugh. But Sierra’s face didn’t change. She still looked at me with eyes that were both uncomfortable and pitying.

  “I don’t think you do, Bailey. I’m the only one who can decide who I should and shouldn’t be with. And you can’t decide for Tony what’s possible for him either,” she spoke slowly and with consideration. I could tell the way she said it, the way she had a hard time keeping eye contact, that these words rung very true to her. And then I realized that they might actually be true.

  My first instinct was to fight back, to deny. But as my mother had reminded me a million times, I was stubborn, and the most stubborn when I knew I was wrong. So I stopped myself, shut my gapping mouth, and nodded.

  “What are you thinking?” Sierra asked me nervously.

  “I’m thinking…that I’m sorry,” I admitted. “And that it’s shitty to hear the truth, but if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that the truth is truth, whether I like it or not.”

  She grimaced, and looked past me for a second. “Looks like your coffee is ready.”

  I turned towards the pot, now half-filled with black, steaming liquid. I poured the coffee into my favorite mug, the one that Sierra had bought me from the dollar store as a gag gift. It said, World’s Greatest Roommate to match my World’s Greatest Dad shirt.

  “I’m glad you’re not angry,” she said quietly. I set down the mug on the counter before I could even take a sip.

  “Hey.” I flashed her a look of concern. “If the first thing you expect from me is anger, then that’s terrible. I’m a terrible friend.”

  “You’re not terrible.” A genuine smile spread across her face. “You’re wonderful. And sometimes your overbearing because you care. That’s not the worst thing in the world.”

  A small sense of ease came over me at her compliment. “Thanks, I hope that’s true, but still. I’m going to work my hardest to stop being so judgmental. To be a better friend from now on.”

  “Thanks,” Sierra smiled. “Me too. I’m going to trust that you won’t hate me, and be really honest with you from now on. No more secrets. But still, I have to request some time to sort out my own feelings about things before I spill all the beans. I have a few things I need to work out with myself.”

  “Fair enough,” I nodded, mixing in some sugar into my coffee. I was eager to know about the weird tensions between her and Nick (and of course, Tony), but I could give her the space she needed. “Want to go watch that new reality show about hedgehog pageants? It’s supposed to be absolutely insane.”

  Sierra’s eyes widened with excitement. “Is that tonight? Oh my god, yes please! I totally watched a clip of it on my phone yesterday at work and I screamed! Dan had to come out from his office to tell me to shut up because it was so loud! And you know I’m against you’re reality TV obsession—but that show looks too good.”

  I laughed and nodded, imaging how that situation went down. “Yep, that’s on tonight, c’mon I think it’s on after House Wars.”

  We went back to the living room and set our drinks on the coffee table, spreading a comfy quilt over our thighs as we squealed excitedly about the show.

  I grabbed the remote from the floor that we had knocked down in our excitement, and I turned on the TV. Images of whipping palms trees and flooded streets filled the screen.

  “Great,” I mumbled, knowing that the montage stock footage could only mean one thing in South Florida.

  “Maybe it’s just a tropical storm,” Sierra said, more hopeful than certain.

  “Tropical Storm Tyrone will be traveling up through the keys through the southeastern coast setting it’s course towards Melbourne County on the west,” A weatherman in a pressed suit said, pointing to the map of Florida behind him where a orange and red fireball passed through the screen towards Deston Beach. It was going to hit us Saturday night.

  Brandon’s birthday night. The night of the show.

  “UGH!” I shouted, tossing a throw pillow at the TV screen.

  “My mom’s going to want to re
arrange the furniture for this,” Sierra groaned, sinking back into the couch cushions and shutting her eyes. “Remember when a storm was the coolest thing ever?” she said with a nostalgic sigh.

  “Yeah,” I said grimly. “Because we got to stay home from school. I don’t really think we cared about much else though. Man, if only my biggest worry was whether or not I had to be in class.”

  “Yeah, well, be grateful you don’t have to sit in a hard, plastic seat attached to a tiny chipboard desk for seven hours a day anymore.”

  “That’s true,” I said, watching the red swirl move up through the islands and ocean towards Florida over and over again. I knew I should be listening, should be absorbing all the awful details of Tyrone, but I couldn’t help but still wish that I was an eight-year-old in that moment, where a hurricane was like Christmas had come early.

  Chapter Six

  “Ready?” I said with my phone pressed to my ear as I pulled a sock over my foot, somehow managing to balance in mid-air. I was almost yelling because Sierra had the hair-dryer on full blast in the bathroom, which was only a few feet away from my bedroom.

  “Yeah, we’ll come to pick Sierra up in five, you worry about Brandon and everything should be fine,” Nick said on the other side of the line. “What’s all that noise?”

  “Vanity,” I sighed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Where’s Trent by the way? He hasn’t been answering my calls,” I said, even though I had distinctly felt him before I fell asleep. He was somewhere between desperation and anger, and I kept seeing flashes of boggy marshes and tall palmetto grass.

  “He’s…don’t worry. He’ll be there,” Nick promised. But I could feel a creeping fear begin to take hold of me.

  “Okay but—”

  “Ow!” Sierra yelled.

  “I’ll see you later, Sierra troubles.” I ended the call before I could hear Nick’s response. I rushed over to the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” Sierra turned to me, her face scrunched up in misery as she nursed a finger in her other hand.

  “I burned my finger on the blow dryer,” she whined, her eyes as wide as a puppy’s.

  “Oh, it’ll be okay.” I fought back the urge to laugh. I bandage up her burn after putting Neosporin on it, and blow-dried her hair quickly for her.

  “Okay, the rest will have to air dry,” I clucked at her. “The guys will be here at any minute to pick you up and I have to go get Brandon.”

  “Oh, alright,” she complained. I shook my head, knowing as soon as I’d leave she’d turn the blow dryer back on.

  “I’ll see you there,” I said, leaving the bathroom to pick up my messenger bag from my room.

  “All right, see you later!” She called as I passed by the bathroom to the living room. “Behave!” I called back over my shoulder.

  The weather was dismal again, foreshadowing the tropical storm that was supposed to visit us in the middle of the night. I sighed, trying to push the storm out of my mind as I winded down the tight little streets, the pavement sometimes a little too old or too cobbled. I showed up at Brandon’s new place of work, a place called, “Hot Dog!” which served a large range of specialty hotdogs (Chicago style, alligator, rabbit) and beer.

  I saw him standing outside, waiting for me with a wide smile.

  “Hey birthday boy! Hope on my gnarly motorcycle!” I joked, and he laughed.

  “Oh you.” I could see a look of gleeful suspicion on his face as he took off his paper hat and tucked it into the front sleeve of his apron. “Where are we going again?”

  “It’s a secret,” I said as he straddled the moped behind me and rummaged in the small trunk attachment for a helmet.

  “Uh huh,” he said, as if he didn’t believe me. I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride knowing that no matter what he suspected, he couldn’t guess what I had in store for him.

  By the time we got to The Nightshift small droplets were falling from the sky. I pulled out my umbrella from the back, shaking my head in disappointment.

  “This doesn’t look like a surprise party,” Brandon said, genuinely puzzled.

  “Yeah, sorry. Dan’s brother works here, I promised him I drop something off since he has to work all day today,” I said, looking behind him as the painfully rehearsed lines left my lips.

  “Right,” Brandon rolled his eyes and I knew the gig was up.

  “Just…Just come inside with me,” I huffed, my cheeks slightly red with embarrassment and excitement. He followed me to the backdoor, where I whispered our names into the bouncer’s name. He looked perplexed by my odd behavior, but let us in all the same. I didn’t even look back at Brandon, sure I’d give everything away.

  I just marched on forward towards the green room, where Nick, Martin and Trent were sitting on an old sofa chatting casually with Sierra, who I was surprised to see got their before us.

  “Brandon!” Martin cheered, and I wondered for a minute if he was kind of drunk.

  “What’s going on?” Brandon said, and I turned around to see his priceless, confused expression.

  “Happy Birthday!” Trent cheered, and Nick beamed. Sierra shot up from her spot on the floor to pull Brandon in a big hug.

  “Guys…” he said, looking at each of their faces, and then to the back wall where a drummer from another band was banging on a table with his drumsticks, mindlessly. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  The excited panic in his voice let me know that this was all too good to be true for him. “Bad Moon is playing here tonight! You have a gig!” I gushed, joining Sierra for the hug.

  I felt several bodies move in behind us, and I knew we were in another awesome, Bad Moon sandwich.

  “Oh my God!” Brandon laughed. “I’m not prepared! I haven’t practiced!”

  “You’ll be great,” Martin grinned, and as we pulled away, I could see that he was almost beaming at Brandon. Brandon’s smile was huge and goofy, and almost bashful.

  “Besides, you practice all the time. You can’t lie to us about that,” Trent pointed out, giving Brandon a playful punch on the arm. Brandon scowled and then laughed.

  The guys messed around before sound check, and then got all of their equipment ready as Sierra and I sorted through the merch. We decided it was the most fun to watch the show from the back, so we decided to set up the merch table earlier.

  But the strangest thing happened once the house opened. People wouldn’t stop coming over to our table.

  “Oh my God, Bad Moon?” one girl said like she couldn’t believe it. “I thought Riot was playing tonight!”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I said, “they backed out last minute.”

  “I’m not disappointed, this is awesome! I want the album, and their E.P. and the shirt. I’m going to change my status about this,” she rambled quickly and excitedly. I chalked up her enthusiasm to her young age, but it kept happing. All kinds of people kept coming up and buying everything they could get their hands on, until I realized I’d have to go back to the van before they even started playing for more stuff.

  “Where did you here about Bad Moon from?” I asked one guy as Sierra counted out his change.

  “Fun Aim name dropped them on their blog. Several big name music review blogs have written articles about you guys after that, saying really awesome things. Surprised you didn’t know,” he said, cocking his pierced brow at me.

  “Sorry, I guess we’re a little out of the loop,” I chuckled, trying to sound casual. But as soon as he turned away I pulled out my phone, searching for Fun Aim’s blog.

  “Oh my God, Sierra, look at this,” I said, showing her the blog post.

  “Woah,” she said. “He’s linked the reviews, click on those.” But just as those pages were loading, a hoard of teenage girls came up to the table, giggling excitedly.

  “I’m going to have to get more merch,” I told them, smiling politely as I walked off towards the parking lot. My mind was reeling with questions and anxiety. Was this Aa
mir’s way of reminding me he was out there, waiting for me?

  ‘Stop being so self-absorbed,’ I reminded myself, shaking away the terrible thought. ‘People can be nice, that’s a thing.’

  But I couldn’t help but feel, as I carried back a box of t-shirts through the slight drizzle, like this wasn’t a good thing. For one thing, the guys would not be comfortable with this. For another, I couldn’t afford to have Aamir back in my life.

  Because I was happy. I finally had the man of my dreams in my life.

  ‘Do you? Do you really?’

  I dropped the box and screamed.

  “Are you okay?” a guy in all black asked me, tossing out his cigarette to pick up the box for me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, thanks,” I said, opening my shaking arms to take it back from him. But the cold, mocking words still filled my mind, and cut through my bones.

  “Are you sure you got this?” he asked, hesitant to give me the box.

  “Yeah, totally,” I said, trying to give him a genuine smile as I pulled the box away from him. “Thanks so much,” I said quickly before taking off towards the merch table.

  “Um, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sierra folded her arms over her chest. “What is going on?”

  “Not now,” I murmured, smiling at the girls who were waiting eagerly for their t-shirts. Sierra reluctantly finished the transactions as I handed them their t-shirts, but I could feel her eyes on me the whole time.

  Thankfully the house lights came down and I was given a few moments before the band started playing to recuperate myself. I knew Trent could feel my anxiety and fear, it was too intense for him not to. I just wanted the show to go well without any weird supernatural distractions, and when the boys came out, cheering and holding the hands up in the air, I felt the small budding hope inside of me that it was possible.

  “Hello Deston Beach!” Trent said into the mike, flashing his charismatic smile. People went wild, throwing their fists up in ways I could hardly believe were real. Still, I could feel Trent’s eyes flicker to me, concern masked behind his happy gaze.