Ride and Die (Ridgemore #1)

11 The Biggest Ass in Ridgemore

11

The Biggest Ass in Ridgemore

M y alarm went off long before I felt rested. I lay in bed through three snooze cycles, wondering if I could get away with skipping school again today. This time, I wouldn’t even have to lie. I’d barely been able to sleep, what with my churning thoughts, which eventually manifested in my body.

After discovering the level of my parents’ deceit, I suspected I’d never suffer guilt over a dishonesty again. I just couldn’t get over what they’d done. Becoming overbearing and overprotective parents who were doing their damnedest to smother me? Okay, fine. After what happened with Brady, it was relatively understandable. But spying on me? I’d never be able to move past that, no matter what reason they might think they had for invading my privacy in such an egregious way. Their actions were beyond messed up.

But skipping today would make two skips in as many days of school. Plus, I wouldn’t be able to guarantee the secretary in the front office wouldn’t mention my absence yesterday afternoon. My parents were aware I played hooky, but there was no need to rub it in their faces and force them to address the issue. Besides, if I stayed home, they would be here too, and the less time I spent with them, the better.

By the time I finished deliberating, I was running late and had to zip in and out of the shower, forgoing my usual funky braids for a pair of Princess Leia buns, denim cutoffs, an off-the-shoulder top, and my favorite Converse. After throwing some spare clothes and a toothbrush into my backpack, I skipped breakfast and ran out of the house calling over my shoulder, “Running late. Griffin’s gonna be here to pick me up any second. See ya tomorrow—I’m spending the night at Layla’s.”

Just as I heard my mom begin to respond, I slammed the door behind me and jogged up our long driveway to put distance between us. For as much leeway as my parents gave me, it wasn’t customary for me to announce I was going on a sleepover without at least seeming to ask their permission. It was always granted when it was Layla’s house. Even so, it wasn’t how things in the Bryson household were done.

I didn’t give a single flying fuck.

The front door swung open behind me just as the growl of Clyde’s engine rounded a bend in the drive. I picked up the pace.

When Griffin slid to a stop beside me, I jumped in, slapping the dashboard. “Go, go, go!”

Being the excellent friend he was, he looped around his Mustang Cobra II and roared back up the road before saying, “You do know Monica’s chasing us, right?”

Dread curled into a pit in my stomach before I quickly remembered everything my parents had done. I kept my gaze trained forward. “She can chase all she wants. She’s gonna have to do a lot more than that to get me to willingly spend time with her again.”

The words registered as true, squeezing my lungs hard enough that I had to work to suck in my next breath. My parents and I had never been particularly close; I always preferred spending time with my friends. But it wasn’t as if we didn’t get along. We shared the occasional family board-game-and-movie night. Just the knowledge that they were there if I wanted them was sufficient. I didn’t need them precisely because they were always in the background, just a call or a talk away.

That was all changing. My gut churned more ferociously, actually growling loudly.

Griffin chuckled. “I guess you skipped breakfast.”

I gave a single laugh back, loving how I didn’t have to be embarrassed with him. “Yeah, I didn’t have time to grab anything to eat, but it’s not that.”

His eyes, more hazel than brown in the morning light, flicked between me and the road as he took the turn from my driveway toward Hunt’s house.

“I just…” I sighed, letting my head drop back on the seat. “I can’t get over what they did. How could they? How fucking could they , Griff?”

He shifted gears, then placed his hand on my thigh. Instantly my skin heated to scorching levels, making me wonder how on earth I was going to keep my recent reactions to him under wraps.

This morning, his dark hair was messy, as if he’d already been running his fingers through it, which he did whenever he became agitated. He wore shorts that hit past his knee, a t-shirt with the Thrasher logo emblazoned across it, and his favorite black Vans.

He was what I wanted for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—plus snacks too.

I am so screwed.

He licked his full lips, though there was no way he could be picking up on the direction of my thoughts. I had those locked down tighter than a dolphin’s butthole.

Brushing his thumb across my thigh, he kept his eyes on the road. “I don’t know why they did what they did. I’ve turned the question over in my head a million times, I swear, but I’ve still got no good answer. It can’t be that they’re just that nosy about what we’re up to, I don’t think. But in the end, that’s all I come up with.”

When he removed his hand to take the turn onto Hunt’s driveway, I felt the absence of his touch as if he’d branded me.

So fucking screwed.

“Hey, guys,” Hunt said as he slid onto the back seat and I claimed shotgun once more. “Any news?”

I snorted as Griffin took off toward the Raffertys’. “You mean beyond the fact that my parents are monster fuckwads?”

“Yeah, beyond that. I already knew that bit.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Nope. Nothing new.” I glanced at Griffin. “That RF detector still coming today?”

“Yep. I tracked it already. It’ll be here by end of day.”

“Good. I need answers.” I stared forward, vaguely registering tree after tree whipping by.

“Not sure we’re gonna get them just by finding more listening devices,” Hunt warned.

“Yeah, I know.” I sighed. “I ran from my house this morning so I wouldn’t have to see them, and I’ll spend the night with Layla tonight, but I won’t be able to keep that up for long before they figure out something’s up.”

“Which it is,” Griffin said.

“Which it very much fucking is, but when they confront me about it, I want to be armed to the teeth with information to throw back at them.”

The guys nodded before we lost ourselves to our own thoughts for a couple of minutes until Griffin turned the car onto the approach to the Rafferty house.

It was as large as mine. What secrets might their home be hiding?

Hunt leaned between the front seats, draping an arm across my seat back. “I hope Brady didn’t have another dream last night. They’re really getting to him.”

“Yeah, they are,” Griffin grunted, his lips tugging downward.

“I hate that we can’t do anything to help him with them.” I sighed again. “It sucks.”

“It totally sucks,” Hunt said. “Plus, not sure if we’re helping things by asking him about them anymore. You see how upset he’s been getting, saying he can’t get over all the shit trauma if we don’t leave things be.”

I swiveled in my seat, meeting Hunt’s eyes, brighter than usual in the filtering sun rays, which made them as rich and smooth as dark chocolate. “But we also can’t leave him to deal with this on his own.”

He groaned. “I know.”

“Even if we’re annoying him by asking all the time, that’s gotta be better than thinking we don’t care.” I paused. “Right?” I wasn’t used to not knowing what to do when it came to my crew. Yes, there’d been some bumpy bits of road along the way, but nothing like this, nothing we couldn’t handle with a few talks, and if that didn’t work, some fierce sparring when words weren’t enough.

“He knows we care,” Griffin answered softly.

Even though he was talking about Brady and not me, something about the way he said it made a tingle sweep across my shoulders and down my spine. Griffin was rarely soft, but his words felt like a caress against my naked skin.

I shook myself free of my stupid, wishful thoughts. It wouldn’t get me anywhere except into the type of trouble I could never risk. Not when the fallout could mean losing the four friends who meant everything in the world to me. That wasn’t an option; it never would be.

“I guess we just let Brady lead the way?” I suggested, knowing full well not one of us was the kind of person to pussyfoot around any subject of importance.

As if reading my mind, Hunt snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m betting Layla brings it up before we get to school.”

“And if not her, you.” Griffin pinned his gaze on me for a few seconds before drawing Clyde to a stop in front of the Rafferty house.

I scoffed, pretending to be offended. “As if the two of you don’t blurt things out too. You’re worse than Layla or me.”

They knew I was full of shit as much as I did. I chuckled … until Brady stormed out of the house, his face thunderous, pulling the front door shut hard behind him even though Layla was trailing him.

“Aw hell,” Hunt muttered.

Griffin ducked to better take in the siblings through the passenger window. “Looks like it.”

Brady stomped around the hood so he could squeeze into the empty seat behind Griffin. And though I knew Hunt hated the middle seat thanks to his long legs, he silently scooted to the middle, leaving the open window seat for Layla. We knew from experience, when the twins were like this, they needed a buffer until whatever it was finally blew over.

Layla sat roughly, scarcely waiting until I was back in my seat before stretching around me to slam the door.

“Yo,” Griffin scolded. “Clyde ain’t done nothing to you.”

Layla scowled, not offering a retort, which on its own spoke volumes. The girl always had something to say, whether we were in the mood to hear it or not. When I turned to study her, I caught her caressing the door, as if she were silently apologizing to the car. Given how hard we’d all fallen for the Mustangs, it was entirely possible.

As Griffin drove, the silence was loud in the car. When no one spoke for long enough that the silence was making me want to crawl out of my skin, I said, “Okay, so what the hell’s going on with the two of you now?”

“It’s nothing,” Layla said, and before she’d even finished spitting out the words, Brady snorted obnoxiously.

She spun on him, glaring at him across Hunt’s lap. “What? You got something to say, Brady?”

When Brady just rolled his eyes and turned his back to her, suddenly intent on staring out the window, she chuckled darkly. “It is nothing. I didn’t do it on purpose, for fuck’s sake.”

He whirled on her so quickly that Hunt plastered his back to the seat, not willing to get between them. “That’s no excuse. You can’t be careless as fuck and then say, ‘Oh, oopsy motherfucking daisy.’” He went over the top in mimicking the higher pitch of her voice, likely intending to annoy her, and let out a feminine laugh that was so grating even I felt like smacking him, and I had no idea whether he deserved it or not.

“You told Mom about my nightmares,” he accused.

“Oh, shit,” Hunt muttered.

“Okay, yeah, I did,” she snapped. “But how was I supposed to know she was lurking around the corner like that? It was sus as fuck! I was just trying to be a loving sister, asshole . Fuck me for caring about you and what’s going on with you.”

A legit growl rumbled from Brady’s chest. “Mom’s gonna be breathing down my neck like a damn dragon. I’ll never shake her loose now.” He glared at Layla. “Thanks to you.”

She tossed her hands in the air, then roughly shoved her backpack down between her feet. “Seriously, Brade, you’ve been a bigger pain in my ass than usual since your resurrection. I’ll never stop being glad you’re back and that you’re okay, but you’ve gotta stop being such a raging dick already. I can’t take much more of this.”

“So it’s all about you. What’s new?”

Layla’s nostrils flared as she gritted her jaw. She might be smaller than Brady, but she held her own in ferocity. “You know what? Fuck you . Fuck. You. I’m done. I’m so fucking done.”

Then she turned her head and stared out the window, refusing to look at her brother.

Brady opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, then shut it, folding his arms stiffly across his broad chest and looking out his own window again.

“Well … this is fun,” Hunt said.

Brady grunted.

After Griffin ate up much of the distance between us and school, I finally spoke again. “I’m not gonna try to talk you two out of being pissed at each other. That’s just a waste of air and I know it. You’ll be mad till you don’t feel like being mad anymore. But shit’s gotten real lately, and the rest of us need to know what’s going on.”

Neither Brady nor Layla reacted. From between them, Hunt rolled his eyes at the somewhat familiar scene. Since Brady’s accident, the two had been bickering even more than usual.

“She’s right,” Griffin said, checking out the siblings in the rearview mirror. “Until we figure out what’s going on with Joss’s parents, we’ve all gotta be playing with a full deck.”

“This has got nothing to do with Joss’s parents,” Brady answered, anger still riding his words, though less so.

Griffin arched a brow at him in the mirror. “Even so, you’re our friends. Tell us what’s going on.”

I waited, wondering if Griffin would add a please to the end of his request.

“Fine.” Brady kept his arms crossed but faced us. “Layla couldn’t keep her fat trap shut, as usual—”

“Hey, fucktard—” she interjected.

Brady shot eye daggers at her. “Go ahead, deny it.”

She turned away from him again. “Whatever.”

Satisfied, Brady harrumphed. “So Layla asks me if I’ve had any more nightmares, and when I tell her that yeah, I did, she asks if they were about the lab again. Mom flies around the corner, freaking out, asking about the nightmares. She made me describe everything. She even took notes. Fucking notes , guys. She’s lost it. She’s probably on the phone making me an appointment with some shrink right the hell now.” His eyes drifted to his sister. “All thanks to Layla’s big mouth.”

Layla shook her head hard enough to dislodge some of her hair from the little clips pulling it back from her face. “Dude, all this shit’s not on me, and you know it. Stop blaming me for our mother being crazy. We need to put a cowbell on her or something. She’s legit spying on us, I swear.”

I froze. “Like for real, you think she’s spying on you?”

“No, not for real.” Layla huffed, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “She’s just still really upset about Brady dying, that’s all.” I was pretty sure none of us missed the uncertainty in her statement. “She’ll get over it. We’ve just gotta give her time.” She glared at Brady again. “And it’d really help things if my brother weren’t the biggest ass in Ridgemore.”

He chuckled. “At least I don’t have the biggest ass in Ridgemore.”

She reached across Hunt to slap Brady, but even while the smack was still ringing, she started laughing. “Dude, you’re fucking ridiculous. I have a tight, perky little ass and you know it.”

For a beat, I thought Brady would grimace and insult her, but then he laughed too. And just like that, the fight was over.

Griffin, Hunt, and I sighed in relief. That is, until Griffin slowed to turn into the school entrance, passing a handful of reporters who stared into our windows, camera shutters snapping, video rolling.

I expected another tirade from Brady, but he just exhaled heavily in resignation.

“I thought they’d be over it by now,” Layla commented, expressing everyone’s thoughts. “How long can Kitty Blanche keep this up? There’ve gotta be more important stories out there than my smelly brother.”

But from the bulldog determination on Kitty’s brightly made-up face, that wasn’t the case. She actually had the balls to grin at us and wave as we passed, as if to say, Gotcha, motherfuckers .

“She’s creepy,” I muttered.

“One hundred percent,” Layla agreed. “She’s probably got a collection of dudes tied up in her basement or some shit.”

I shivered at the thought. “No, not creepy like that. Creepy like I will chase you down forever .” But I couldn’t really be sure. Her interest in Brady didn’t feel normal.

At least Ridgemore High’s principal, Mr. Thompson, didn’t allow them on school property—he’d already called the cops on them twice when they sneaked in—so we got to leave at least that part of Brady’s torment behind.

Griffin pulled Clyde to a stop next to Bonnie. No one had taken the open spots on either side of the Shelby, as if out of respect for us. Or maybe they were just worried we’d beat the shit out of them if they were to so much as accidentally ding a door. We’d never actually do that, not for that reason anyway, but it was better to have our peers operating under such a misconception. Worked out better for us in the end. People tended to stay out of our way.

However, as soon as we hit the walkway toward the lockers, it became obvious that not everyone who should stay clear was smart enough to do so.

“Hey, look,” Rich Connely called out, loudly enough that the football players and cheerleaders milling around him would hear. “It’s the Miracle Kid.”

“Brady, don’t,” I implored, reaching for his arm. But Brady wasn’t doing a thing to dampen his usual speed, despite his mom’s pleas. Layla, Griffin, and Hunt lunged for him too, but Brady beat us to the bratty prick who apparently hadn’t learned his lesson.

Rich’s eyes widened as he seemed to register what was about to happen, but before anyone could interfere, Brady punched him square in the jaw, knocking him out in one strike.

Pike Bills was the first to pull out of our shared shock, whistling, then laughing and clapping. “KO’d. Wow, man, you don’t mess around.”

But Brady was already striding down the hall, forgoing his locker entirely and heading toward class.

I exhaled loudly, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of my face. Today was going to be a long day. The four of us trailed after Brady, ignoring the cheerleaders racing off to get the school nurse, who would undoubtedly involve the principal.

Brady had to know he’d get into trouble. But the relaxed tilt of his shoulders and his smooth gait told anyone who was paying attention that he didn’t care. He had bigger problems.

So did the rest of us.