The Original Crowd (39 page)

Tray was quiet. Then he said, “I’m listening.”

“You have a multitude of contacts. I was impressed with you when you were younger, but you were too irrational. I feared pushing you, you were too unpredictable then. Now, now you strike me as calmer. More controlled. Smarter about your place in life.”

“What do you want?” Tray snapped impatiently.

“You have contacts, Tray. You have a wealth of contacts at your disposal. I know that you’ve been using them. You know the drug dealers and you know the cops. I’d like to be a part of that wealth of information.”

“You want to know what cops’ll turn for you,” Tray mused.

Dirty cops.

“Yeah,” Galverson sounded surprised, “you think I want to get to know clean cops, maybe kill ‘em?”

“And you can go to hell,” Tray sent his way, sounding assured.

“I’ve been talking to your father about you. He tells me that you’re much smarter than his eldest son. You’re classified as a genius. He also thinks you have a thing with authority. You don’t like it. In fact, Mitchell tells me that you hate authority, you always have.”

Tray was quiet, listening.

“I’d like for you to come work for me. You’d be a first sergeant. You’d work over Jace.”

“I’d be his boss?” Tray asked.

“Yes.”

“Until he learned everything I know, and then he’d kill me.”

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Tray, since I let you live so long ago. No, I only let you live because you were Mitchell’s kid. I could stop anything you sent out. I have agents and police in every level of the government. I let you live because you were just a kid. And because you don’t buy into this right/wrong bullshit. I saw that you only wanted to be left alone. I saw that and I knew that you’d hold up your end of the deal. I won’t kill your father and you won’t leak anything on me.”

That was news to me.

“You can kill my father all you want. In fact, if I ever see him again, I’ll follow out on my threat,” Tray said silkily, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.”

But it wasn’t from fear this time.

“You have another weakness, Galverson,” Tray murmured. A second later he continued, “You love your daughter. That’s a problem for you.”

It was silent again.

“You wouldn’t touch her,” Galverson replied sounding close to the edge of losing his temper. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You underestimated me last time too,” Tray said smoothly.

“You, little piece of—no. I know what you’re doing. It’s that authority thing again, isn’t it? Your father was dead-on. You’re ‘reacting.’ He said you do that a lot.” He actually laughed. “You’re a keeper, that’s for sure. But seriously, think about my proposition. I could make you a very wealthy man.”

“You already did,” Tray said, sounding bored. I knew he was anything but.

“That’s true, isn’t it. Alright, think about my proposal and get back to me. No time limit.” I heard the door open. “And Tray, if you ever think of touching my daughter, I will not hesitate to send my men after your brother.”

“I haven’t spoken to my family for four years. I could care less what you do to them.” Then Tray slammed the door and locked it.

I crawled into bed. And huddled there, my hands trembling. I looked up and met Tray’s eyes when he entered the room.

He shut the door and leaned against it. Then slid down, his hands in his hair.

“Fuck,” he bit out.

Fuck.

“Tray—” I started, my voice shaking.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut me off roughly. He stayed in place, on the floor, cradling his head.

“Tray—” I started again. I slipped off the bed and knelt before him. I pulled his hands away and dropped them in shock. His eyes were dilated, a shocking color stood in their normal hazel color.

“What are you…are you on something?”

“No,” he pushed me away, “just stay away. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” He got up and left, darting out of the house. I heard the patio door slam shut behind him. I moved to a bedroom with windows that overlooked the pool area. Looking through them, I saw the door to the storage building slam shut.

I stayed by the window, just breathing in and out, trying to calm my nerves. But Tray didn’t come out.

I waited and no Tray.

After ten minutes, I let out a breath and moved away from the window.

I went downstairs and went to the pool house. When I got onto the patio, I stopped in shock. I could hear pounding sounds coming from the storage shed he ran into.

I wanted to go see, but instead I moved into the pool house. I showered and changed into some new clothes. I pulled my cell charger out of my bag and plugged it in. Then I remembered Tray’s phone. I went back into the house, still hearing the sounds, and found his cell in the bedroom. After I plugged it into its charger in the pool house, I stood uncertainly in the doorway.

He was still in the storage shed.

I finally gave into temptation and moved to the door. There weren’t any windows, so I had to open the door to see inside.

Inside was a punching bag, and Tray had stripped down to his waist. He was beating the shit out of that bag. Every now and then, he’d rear back for a hard uppercut. I caught a glimpse of his knuckles. They were bleeding.

I crossed to him, and readied myself for what I was about to do. When I reached out and grabbed his arms from behind, I held on.

“Stop,” I spoke, gritting my teeth.

“Get off me,” Tray snapped, trying to shrug me off.

I held on.

“Stop it,” I bit out again, starting to get pissed.

“Taryn,” he warned, “I gave you space when you needed it.”

“Yeah, well, that was when we were just screwing each other. We did not screw last night and we haven’t been doing that for a while.”

“Shut up,” he replied harshly.

“Stop it. You’re starting to scare me.” He wasn’t, but I wanted him to stop, so I lied.

“Taryn,” Tray cursed at me.

“This is not cathartic. This just makes it worse.”

“Says who?” Now he’d turned to infantile arguments.

I shot back, “Says our psych teacher.”

I was right and we both knew it.

“Get off me.” He finally managed to shove me away, but he didn’t go back to trying to murder the bag. He glared at me and stated, “I’m not talking about it. Not yet.”

“Fine. But stop that stupid shit. It doesn’t help.” I gestured to the bag. “And we
are
talking when you calm down.”

“I don’t want to hear about you saying ‘goodbye’ to your ex,” he threw back.

I wasn’t really keen on talking about Brian with him either.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Tray swore, sighed, and then grumbled, “Since when do we talk?”

“Since I’m admitting that we’re in an actual relationship. And we are,” I said firmly, seeing him roll his eyes. But he didn’t argue.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Tray remarked, rolling his shoulders.

*

I went to the kitchen to make some coffee. Hunting around the shelves, in the vicinity of where you would put the coffee pot, I cursed as my eyes fell on the sale-tag that was still on the coffee pot. Who buys a coffee machine and doesn’t use it?

When the doorbell rang, I jumped.

When it peeled again, I looked behind me, helpless. Like Tray was going to materialize suddenly. But he didn’t. He was still showering, or changing. Not there, which is where I needed him.

After the third time, a hand pounded on the door. I moved to the foyer and paused, still terrified. Who could blame me?

“Come on, come on, come on. I know you’re in there.” That definitely did not sound like Jace or Galverson.

I blew out a breath of relief and opened the door.

Mandy breezed past me.

Following her into the kitchen, I heard her say, without preamble, “Everyone’s skipping today. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d be a good daughter, you know, like you were the other day, and boy do I regret that now. I actually went to school this morning and had, like, four people in class. Seriously. One of them was your friend Molly what’s-her-face. She asked where you were, by the way, and I told her you were probably here. You and Tray left early last night. I saw that Gentley guy and your ex. I figured that was why you guys escaped.”

Mandy opened the fridge and pulled out some bagels and cream cheese.

“Where’s Tray?”

“Showering.”

Wait.

“Does that mean everyone’s coming over?” I asked, slightly alarmed.

“Well, yeah.” Mandy shrugged, spreading cream cheese on her bagel. “It’s what we do, especially when we skip. Duh.”

“It’s…oh…this isn’t a good time.”

“What do you mean?” Mandy grabbed the juice next, pouring herself a cup. “You want a cup?”

“No. I want…” I was at a loss for words. I got the feeling Mandy was just the warm-up. In about an hour, this place would be full of people.

When wasn’t there?

“Oh,” Mandy exclaimed, “Casners is looking for you. She’s got a beef with you or something. I would too after what you did last night. Thanks, Tristan was a treat the rest of the night. In between her make-out sessions with Garrett, that is.”

I had her tickets. No way was she going to pick a fight with me.

“What are you talking about?” I was tired. I’d been scared shitless this morning, for my life and Tray’s, so sue me if I wasn’t following along with this conversation.

“You know, her and Tristan. They’re, like, mortal enemies, by the way. Good job.”

“Oh.” That’s right.

“Tristan still has no clue, though. No one’s had the heart to tell her why Casners went after her last night.”

I was having a hard time caring.

“Oh.” Should I ask and pretend to care? “What happened?”

“You mean, who did Brent Garrett go home with last night?” Mandy was too energetic this morning. “He went home with Tristan. I just said they were making out the rest of the night. Aidrian Casners hates her. Although I think Tristan was really doing it to get at Amber. Those two cannot stand each other. I’ve never really figured out why.”

“Because Amber thinks Tristan is psychotic and thinks she’s the only person you can be best friends with. Oh, and because she thinks her and Tray have a star-crossed lover thing going on,” I rambled, stating word for word—or close enough to Amber’s statement.

Mandy gaped in shock. “What?”

“It’s what I heard.” I had officially became part of the gossip mill. Not a subject in the gossip mill, but an actual participant in the mill.

I needed to escape.

“I’ll be back. Just…make some coffee,” I instructed my sister, hightailing it out of there to the pool house.

Tray was pulling a shirt on when I rushed in and laid on the bed.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Tray mused, sitting beside me on the bed and bending to grab some shoes.

“Mmmm,” I mumbled into his pillow.

Tray didn’t reply.

I rolled onto my back and asked, “Why does your place have to be the hang-out when everyone skips? People just show up here. Randomly. Like last night, they had a party when we were in here.”

Tray shrugged. “I’ve lived alone this whole time. I like it when people show up.” He flexed his knuckles, hissing in pain.

I sat back on my knees, crawling to sit beside him. I reached for his hands and gently inspected his knuckles. They were still open, raw, and bleeding.

Probably a good metaphor for Tray and me.

He grew still, in pain, as I looked closely at the sores.

“You need to disinfect these,” I murmured.

“I have a first-aid kit in the house,” he murmured, leaning closer to me.

I looked up and met his gaze. He was looking at me, intensely.

“So we’re in a relationship, huh?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, studying him, looking for any reaction.

He was doing the same to me.

“Good,” he whispered, leaning to kiss me. I grinned against his mouth and kissed him back.

“That means we talk. I’m not in a relationship where we don’t talk,” I clarified as I pulled away. I meant it, too. Brian and I hadn’t always talked out our issues, and I hated it.

“I can do that.” He kissed me again.

“We’re talking about this morning.”

“Do we have to talk about last night?”

“Me and Brian?”

“Yeah.” He sounded like he was in pain. He probably was.

“No. Brian and I said goodbye last night. That was it, the end.”

“I figured. You kissed him and everything.”

“You knew what I was going to do—”

“Yeah, I did.” He kissed me again. “It’s why I stayed in the car.”

“But we’re talking about—”