The Real Score

Chapter 9: Grenade

Heels, black lacy dress, belt, accessories, clutch, new hair, makeup—all check. I was ready for a night out with Perry and the other musicians of the band.

I twirled once more in front of Issa's mirror, satisfied with what I saw, the end product of her magic and Marcus' money—most of what I was wearing was stuff he bought. The only thing wrong about this whole ensemble was my eyes—they were still puffy from crying.

I headed to the stairs, passing by Perry, who was preparing with the other guys in the band. I almost smiled when he whistled appreciatively.

"See you in a bit!" I called back to them.

I slowed to a stop in front of our bunk's divider, knowing I had to pass through it, with Marcus and Helena there. Why did we only have one entrance and exit in this stupid bus?

I took a deep breath and then threw the divider open. Only Marcus was there.

"Whoa."

Marcus took me in, his eyes moving from my head to my feet and back again. "You look amazing," he said in a soft whisper, his voice filled with wonder.

I gazed into his eyes, torn if I should be flattered or mad. The latter won over.

"I just have to pass," I said, my voice cold.

He snapped out of his daze at the sound of my voice.

"We need to talk, Caitlin," he began slowly.

I just pushed past him, but he stopped me, forcing me against our bunks, his arms trapping me. He was so close I could feel him breathing against my skin.

"Caitlin, about Helena—"

I turned my gaze to the floor, on his black shoes. He was dressed for a night out, too, and I wondered if we were heading to the same bar. "Look, we can have this conversation some other time, since you waited this long to tell me about her."

"Caitlin—"

"Trust, Marcus. What happened to that? What happened to just truths and no bullshit? I'm your best friend, Marcus. Or did you just gloss over that fact?" I seethed, and he stared at me, his mouth open, no words coming out.

When it was evident I wasn't getting anything out of him, I said, "I have somewhere else I have to be."

I bumped my shoulder against his as I passed by him, but he grabbed my left hand, his fingers wrapping around the tattoo, and I stared at it, a bitter reminder.

I heard footsteps at the stairs, and then someone called out, "Marcus, ready?"

Helena.

Marcus, eyes still on mine, called back, "In a minute!" and the footsteps scurried away.

I removed his grip from my hand. "She's waiting for you," I whispered, and Marcus reached for me again but I flinched, making him withdraw.

"Caitlin, ready?" Someone appeared by my side.

Thank you, Perry.

Perry's presence made Marcus back off, and he stepped away from me. I swallowed and forced a smile, and Perry took my elbow to guide me out. We were already at the stairs when I remembered something. I turned, and true enough, Marcus was just behind us.

"My mother has a friend here in London, and she wants me to see her. So I'm heading back to the city tomorrow morning."

Marcus sighed heavily. "I know what you're doing, Caitlin. You're running away again."