Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) Read online

  For a long time, I thought he was brain damaged. But last year he had the highest grade point average in the entire freshman class and played lead trumpet in the marching band.

  To make matters worse, he’s been dating the same girl for the last three years. She’s okay. Totally inoffensive. Like sugary cereal. Sweet, but nauseating after a while.

  Then again, maybe I’m just bitter because nobody has ever looked at me the way Chris and his girlfriend look at each other.

  But romance aside, these days I’d settle for a confidante, someone I could trust.

  I used to be able to talk to my Dad. We were pretty tight back in the day. Unfortunately, when I was in sixth grade a girl at school told me I was too old to hug him or sit on his lap. She said if I did, he would get a boner.

  I never thought it was true, but I distanced myself just in case. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us, but now I hate that bitch for messing with me when I was so naive.

  Not that it matters now. He always takes my Mom’s side lately anyway, especially since things got so strained between us. I think he thinks I’m a bully, but I’m not. I’m just trying to be hard enough that I can keep other’s from bullying me first.

  I mean, I hope someday I can lighten up. Cause it’s exhausting to be so tough all the time.

  But weakness doesn’t get you anywhere in high school. It just makes you a target.

  And that’s the last thing I need.

  Chapter 4: Dawn

  My leather pants still fit like a glove.

  I caught a cab to the club and entered through the side door in the alley. The doorman didn’t even flinch.

  I never thought I’d see the inside of that place again, but I needed a distraction. I needed something to take my mind off my doctor’s appointment earlier, something to keep reality from sinking in.

  I walked down a narrow hallway that smelled like stale beer and knocked on a black painted door.

  “Yep.”

  Mick was drinking whiskey and tuning his guitar on a tattered couch when I poked my head in.

  “Dirty Dawn, babe! How are you?” He put his guitar to the side and stood up. “God you look fantastic.”

  “Thanks, Mick,” I said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  He gave me a big hug, squeezing me just a little too tight. But when he pulled away, I was sad it was over.

  “What has it been- ten years?” he asked.

  “Who’s counting?” I looked around the dressing room. It wasn’t Mick’s. It was just his for the night. Clothes hung from the mirrors and the busted speakers stacked around the perimeter. Everything except the cases of beer at the back of the stuffy room was piled with junk.

  “I knew I could count on you,” he said. “I owe you big for this.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Where’s the rest of the band?”

  “Went to pick up food.”

  I laughed.

  “I know.” He smiled. “Back in the day it would’ve been drugs, right?”

  Besides a few more wrinkles he was as handsome as he’d always been. I used think if he weren’t in a band, he could’ve worked as a Dennis Quaid impersonator.

  “Whiskey?” he asked.

  “Please,” I said, sitting on the couch beside him. I watched him pour. “You’re still on the Jack?”

  He offered a cheeky smile. “My first true love.” He laughed and passed me the glass. “Besides you, of course.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You had at least fifty true loves before me.”

  “Actually, you were 42nd by my count, but you gotta make every girl believe she’s number one, right?”

  “If you say so.”

  He held his glass up to mine. “42nd best summer of my life.”

  I clinked his glass and laughed. “That’s not even possible.”

  “Summer is a state of mind.”

  I flinched.

  “You remember you used to say that?”

  “That was a long time ago,” I said. “I used to do a lot of hippie shit back then that I don’t do anymore.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “You’ll always be Dirty Dawn to me.” He gave me a filthy wink that made me feel like a teenager again.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe his blue eyes could still pinch me on the inside like that. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have a man’s full attention. Or rather, the attention of a man who wasn’t paying me to listen to his problems.

  “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”

  “Neither have you,” he said.

  I crossed my legs.

  “I’m glad you could come. Shelly’s sick so she can’t help us out tonight.”

  Sick. The word made my throat close up. I swallowed. “You’re still singing with Shelly?”

  “She married Dave.”

  “She didn’t!”

  “Let’s just say the band isn’t as edgy as it used to be.” He pushed some hair out of his eyes, revealing the same red bandana he’d been wearing at gigs since I met him. “A lot of the guys have kids. Wives. Mortgages.”

  “Real life will sneak up on you like that.”

  He sighed. “I’d go crazy if we couldn’t do live shows, though. Really I would.”

  “And what about you Mick? You settled down?”

  “Never settle. That’s what I say.”

  “Still living on your own terms then?”

  “I’m afraid so. You?” he asked, topping up his glass. “You still partying every night and breaking hearts like they were cheap shot glasses?”

  “I would never-”

  “Bullshit. You used to put the rest of us to shame with your wild ways. I couldn’t believe you got my message the other day. I bet the guys you were either dating a billionaire and sleeping on pillows stuffed with pure cocaine or a Madame running your own brothel in Amsterdam.”

  “Jesus, Mick.”

  “I was kind of disappointed you even answered my message to say you were still here.” His blue eyes smiled. “Until I realized I’d get to see you, of course.”

  I put my arm on the armrest and wondered if I shouldn’t have come. Maybe it would’ve been better for me to remain a mystery.

  “So what have you been doing with yourself?” he asked, moving some rolled up gig posters so he could lean back on the couch.

  “Waiting for your call, Mick. Waiting to get the band back together.”

  “Lies,” he said. “You never really gave a shit about our music. You just liked being center stage. What have you really been doing?”

  “I’m a counselor, actually. I mostly work with couples.”

  His face scrunched up like he’d eaten a worm. “In an office?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking what do I know about being in a relationship?”

  “No, not at all. Hell, you’ve had more relationships than anybody I know.”

  “So what’s with the face?”

  “I’m just laughing at how torturous that must be for you to sugarcoat things and choose your words carefully. It must be exhausting for you.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m not as tactless as I once was.”

  “You like it?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes. If I can help somebody.”

  He was quiet and just looked at me for a second like I was a rare bird that had flown abruptly into view.

  And he kept looking at me like that from time to time when we were performing, too. Like he was surprised that I remembered the words to so many of his songs.

  But I wasn’t surprised. I helped him write a lot of those songs. Not the words exactly, but the feelings. Sometimes we’d be lying in the bed on the floor of his studio apartment, and he’d reach over and scribble some lyrics down. Then he’d roll back towards me and tickle my neck with his stubble and his warm whiskey breath.

  There were days when we didn’t even get out of bed.

  And I guess all those feelings must have come back to him
, too. Because after the show, we poured enough whiskey down our throats to kill Courtney Love and went back to his hotel room.

  Mick peeled off my leather pants, and I remembered what it was like to be with him as quickly as he grew in my hands.

  Then we outdid ourselves.

  And it was effortless.

  Chapter 5: Kate

  Danielle passed me the rest of the pint of vodka and I drained it, trying not to gag as the fumes burnt my eyes.

  “You alright?”

  “I am now,” I said, tucking the empty bottle in my purse.

  I didn’t want anything incriminating in my car if the cops showed up and we had to run for it. Fortunately, Danielle’s house was only about two miles away. Which is nothing when you’re shitfaced.

  Of course, there was no way we could outrun the boys, but we could always count on a few bimbos wearing stupid shoes. They were easy pickings for the out of shape police that patrolled our suburban streets.

  As we approached Trey Ford’s house, we only saw one kid puking in a neighbor’s bush, but it was still early. Danielle and I only planned to stay until the second keg ran out. That way we could leave before things got too messy.

  Because Trey’s party throwing days were numbered. They had to be. It had been a good run, but these things never lasted. Someone would get stupid or cocky and ruin it for everyone else just as soon as we started to take the spot for granted.

  Like we used to party at Ashley G’s, but then someone filled her exotic fish tank with beer and killed everything in it.

  Then we spent countless weekends drinking at Frank Kenny’s house. Until someone switched the sleeves on every single record in his Dad’s prized collection, breaking a few in the process. To this day no one knows who did it.

  And most recently it was Ben Nevin whose luck ran out when his Dad realized their whole yard stank of stale beer. Eventually, he discovered the source: a landfill’s worth of cigarette butts and empties stashed under his porch. Rumor has it they actually made good money turning the cans in at the recycling center.

  Of course, everyone’s already made bets about how Trey’s demise will go down. I think it’ll be some sort of massacre involving his Mom’s fancy orchids. Danielle’s got her money on the dog getting so drunk that he has the shits for days (though little Sparky’s held his own so far). And Annie thinks it will all come down to whatever’s in the mystery closet, and she has point.

  I mean, whatever’s in there must be good because Trey always locks it before parties.

  I think it’s just a closet full of munchies cause his Dad works for a snack company. However, there is a rumor that it’s where his parents hide the dead bodies of all the people they’ve killed. As if that’s the only reasonable explanation for why they go out so late at night together all the time. Because they’re serial killers.

  Then again, Trey probably started that rumor to keep people the fuck out of the closet.

  When Danielle and I finally walked in the front door, the music got about ten times louder. We headed for the keg first, making our way through the house to the back porch. By the time we got there, I realized I was probably two shots drunker than I intended to be on arrival.

  Of course, of all the people on Earth who could be pumping the keg, it had to be Ian. I hadn’t exchanged words with him since the day I kicked his nutsack up into his belly.

  Danielle stepped up to the keg and folded her arms.

  Ian looked up. “Hey.” He grabbed a red solo cup from the glass patio table, which was already littered with empties and ravaged pizza boxes, and handed it to her. “I’ll pump for you.”

  “That’s fine, thanks. I’ll do it myself.”

  I appreciated her solidarity.

  “No, I insist,” he said, poising the tap in the air.

  Danielle looked back at me as if she were asking for permission.

  I shrugged.

  She held her cup out and he filled it up. For all his faults, the idiot knew how to tap a keg.

  I stepped up next. “Ian.”

  “Kate,” he said, passing me a cup. “You look pretty.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You look full of shit. As usual.”

  He swallowed. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”

  “Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” I tried to ignore the way his Bieber-rific hair fell into his eyes and focus on how much he’d embarrassed me.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “You should’ve thought of that before-” I couldn’t say it.

  “Look, it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “I’ll say.” I felt the sideways glances of everyone on the porch as they tried to act like they weren’t listening to our conversation.

  “Things just got out of hand.” His eyes looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

  I took a sip of my beer and didn’t say anything. Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t he just let it go and forget there was ever anything between us like I was trying so hard to do?

  I pursed my lips. There was only one way to avoid further embarrassment and that was to pretend I wasn’t hurt.

  “I appreciate your apology and everything,” I said, “but I can’t accept it, okay? So don’t worry about it. We don’t need to talk about anything. We’re cool.”

  “Can I get a refill, man?” Trey, oblivious to my Oscar-worthy performance, stepped between us and shoved his cup at Ian.

  Ian ignored him and kept his sad eyes on me.

  Without warning, Danielle hooked my arm and marched me down the porch steps into the yard.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, dying to look back and see if Ian was watching me walk away.

  “To the tree house.”

  “Look, I know you miss your fucked up childhood but-“

  “Shut up,” she said, pausing when we reached the ladder. She held out her hand. “You first.”

  I handed her my cup and crawled up the short ladder into the small raised hut. “It’s surprisingly spacious inside.”

  “Here.” She handed me our cups and then lifted her purse up so I could grab it.

  “Jesus, what’s in here?” I asked when I felt the weight of it.

  “A six pack,” she said as she climbed up.

  “Where’d you get a six pack?”

  She backed up against one side of the hut and lit a cigarette. “The fridge. When you were talking to Ian.”

  I opened her purse. “Coors, huh? We’re high rollers tonight. Nice one. What are we celebrating?”

  She passed me her lit cigarette. “Oh, I don’t know.” She put another in her mouth and lit it. “Maybe the fact that you and Ian are cool.”

  I sighed.

  “What’s your problem, Kate?”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Not let him off so easy!”

  “I already kicked him in the balls.”

  “Which he seems to have forgiven you for already. Are you sure you kicked him hard enough?”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I said. “And I don’t think he’s forgiven me. I just think he knows he deserved it.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty and concern, Danielle, but I didn’t want to make a scene. I just want everyone to forget about it, ya know? I’m trying to not be the hot topic for next week.”

  “Well you don’t have to worry about that.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “My step-sister’s here. She just texted me.”

  “Becca?”

  Danielle nodded. “God knows why. Is no one from her school having a party tonight?”

  “You know why.”

  Danielle sighed. “I don’t even want to be associated with her.”

  “Well, maybe someone else will take care of her this time.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “Don’t let it ruin your night. As soon as she’s blacked out, just call your step-dad to come get her or something.
”

  “And fuck over everyone else here who’s just trying to have a good time?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Promise me she won’t get raped or choke on her own vomit or both if I don’t check on her regularly.”

  I tried to apologize with my eyes. Danielle knew I couldn’t promise any of those things. Becca was a liability.

  She let her head fall back against the wooden wall behind her.

  “Let’s finish our beers, and we’ll check on her when we need more,” I said, hiccupping.

  Danielle smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

  Danielle shrugged. “That’s better than Annie would’ve done.”

  I laughed. “True.”

  Annie had no patience for Becca at all. Fortunately for all of us, she was off getting pounded by some college guy she was seeing.

  Danielle and I continued drinking as quickly as we could, growing quieter as the collection of empty bottles grew in the corner of the treehouse.

  Soon, the edges of the windows at the back of Trey’s house started to look a bit fuzzy and far away. Like distant stars.

  And suddenly, I realized that very few people probably gave a shit whether I was there or not. Just like no one cared whether I was at any of the other hundreds of random parties that kids were throwing all over the country.

  “What do you think is going to happen to everybody?” I asked.

  “You mean, like, after we graduate?”

  “Yeah.” I looked at Danielle. Her cigarette had gone out, but she hadn’t bothered to light it again.

  “I know what Annie would say.”

  “That we’re all going to grow up, grow fat, and grow unhappy.”

  “Bingo,” she said, staring towards the house.

  I reached forward and grabbed her cigarette. Then I pulled a lighter out of my pocket and got it going again. “What do you think?”