Page 20
Story: Pretty Poisoned
And suddenly, I get it. I know what River meant in the hallway.
It makes it that much harder when he takes it back.
I scan the group, looking for Layla, who stands at Hazel's side, cheering and singing along with the lyrics, even though it's obvious she's still suffering.
His light. That's what she was talking about. Layla did something—broke some rule—and she lost it.
And it's killing her.
FIVE
There's no party backstage after this concert. Instead, two limos pick us up and take us to an upscale club in Downtown San Francisco. I ride with the family—not to be confused with the bloodsluts—and the band rides in a separate car.
When we get there, Alana approaches the woman at the front, who then escorts us through the throngs of people to our table. It's one of maybe six on a mezzanine overlooking the main stage, where there's a DJ and a dance floor.
"I'm so over this," Alana says as she throws herself down into the booth. She grabs a bottle of gin from the table and mixes herself a drink. "I just want to go home."
"We'll be home soon," Brady tells her. "I don't think we'll stay out long. I think they're all ready to go home, too."
"How long have you been…with them?" I ask her. I'm not sure how else to word the question. I think that's how River said it last night.
"About nine months," Alana says.
I do the math in my head. So, that means she probably never met Bridget, either. Neither did River or Hazel.
"Wow, that's a long time."
"Brady is the OG. He's been with Rhett since they were first getting started. And Layla has been with them since the first album, so probably…eighteen months, right Layla?"
So those two—they did know Bridget. And I can assume they all knew Heidi.
"Um, yeah," she says. "Twenty months, actually. Where are they anyway? They should be here by now."
"Declan and Eli were fighting again when they got into the car," Brady says. "They're probably finishing whatever that was. Oh, wait. There they are," he says, pointing toward the door.
"Layla," River says. "Let's go dance."
"I don't feel like it," she says. "You go ahead."
"No, Layla. I think you need to go dance," she says a little more forcefully.
"Only if Alana goes, too," she says.
Alana sighs and sinks further into the booth, shaking her head. "Layla…" She sighs, looking at the sad blonde girl for a moment before saying, "You know what? Fine. Let's go dance."
I watch them cross the space and descend the staircase, passing Luca and pulling him back downstairs on the way.
"Wondering what the fuck is going on?" Brady asks me.
"Yes," I tell him. "Perpetually. There is literally no limit to how much I'm wondering what the fuck is going on."
"Well, I can fill in a small gap for you."
"Please do."
"For a long time, Layla was Declan's favorite, but now, Alana is his favorite, and Layla isn't handling it well. She can't stand to see them alone together, so that's why she dragged Alana downstairs with her just now. They were always really good friends, so Alana's giving her a lot of grace, but…it's getting tiring. And she's not supposed to be like this. We have rules."
"Right," I say. "I think I heard that one. No one belongs to anyone."
It makes it that much harder when he takes it back.
I scan the group, looking for Layla, who stands at Hazel's side, cheering and singing along with the lyrics, even though it's obvious she's still suffering.
His light. That's what she was talking about. Layla did something—broke some rule—and she lost it.
And it's killing her.
FIVE
There's no party backstage after this concert. Instead, two limos pick us up and take us to an upscale club in Downtown San Francisco. I ride with the family—not to be confused with the bloodsluts—and the band rides in a separate car.
When we get there, Alana approaches the woman at the front, who then escorts us through the throngs of people to our table. It's one of maybe six on a mezzanine overlooking the main stage, where there's a DJ and a dance floor.
"I'm so over this," Alana says as she throws herself down into the booth. She grabs a bottle of gin from the table and mixes herself a drink. "I just want to go home."
"We'll be home soon," Brady tells her. "I don't think we'll stay out long. I think they're all ready to go home, too."
"How long have you been…with them?" I ask her. I'm not sure how else to word the question. I think that's how River said it last night.
"About nine months," Alana says.
I do the math in my head. So, that means she probably never met Bridget, either. Neither did River or Hazel.
"Wow, that's a long time."
"Brady is the OG. He's been with Rhett since they were first getting started. And Layla has been with them since the first album, so probably…eighteen months, right Layla?"
So those two—they did know Bridget. And I can assume they all knew Heidi.
"Um, yeah," she says. "Twenty months, actually. Where are they anyway? They should be here by now."
"Declan and Eli were fighting again when they got into the car," Brady says. "They're probably finishing whatever that was. Oh, wait. There they are," he says, pointing toward the door.
"Layla," River says. "Let's go dance."
"I don't feel like it," she says. "You go ahead."
"No, Layla. I think you need to go dance," she says a little more forcefully.
"Only if Alana goes, too," she says.
Alana sighs and sinks further into the booth, shaking her head. "Layla…" She sighs, looking at the sad blonde girl for a moment before saying, "You know what? Fine. Let's go dance."
I watch them cross the space and descend the staircase, passing Luca and pulling him back downstairs on the way.
"Wondering what the fuck is going on?" Brady asks me.
"Yes," I tell him. "Perpetually. There is literally no limit to how much I'm wondering what the fuck is going on."
"Well, I can fill in a small gap for you."
"Please do."
"For a long time, Layla was Declan's favorite, but now, Alana is his favorite, and Layla isn't handling it well. She can't stand to see them alone together, so that's why she dragged Alana downstairs with her just now. They were always really good friends, so Alana's giving her a lot of grace, but…it's getting tiring. And she's not supposed to be like this. We have rules."
"Right," I say. "I think I heard that one. No one belongs to anyone."
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