Coming to Crash's House

Kelly

Tommy's face pops up in the little notification bubble on my phone again.

Kel we're writing at C's

this afternoon. Come.

Please?

I look up from my phone. Dan's still in the celebrity hospital. The doctors say they need to scan him, see if he'll need surgery for that disc. Even though he's frustrated and worried about his contractors ruining his construction business, I think part of him enjoys all the attention. He's taken to reading The New York Post every morning while he's digging into bacon and eggs that look like they came from a restaurant.

He doesn't look up from the paper. "That the boys?"

I almost say no. Almost continue pretending I haven't heard from them since Crash got released amid tabloid rumors which were, thankfully, overshadowed by the latest movie premiere in Los Angeles.

"Yes," I say. They've asked me to come over almost every day since Crash left. But I've made my excuses. Mainly because it feels like the minute I give in and go over there, it's like saying what they did doesn't matter.

But I want to go. Badly.

He hasn't looked up. But his eyes stop moving on the page. I clear my throat. "They want to know if I can help them this evening." I hate how my heart beats wildly and my palms sweat as I say those words. I'm tense, prepared to face slut, whore, or do-you-think-I-was-born-yesterday? rants.

"Well, sure." Dan's chewing again and flips the page of his newspaper a little harder than necessary. "What time?"

Inhale. Exhale. Make it worth it. "They aren't free until almost five, so I'd have to get my homework done and leave around four-thirty. Back by nine?"

"Eight." He bites off the word on his toast.

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

His gaze is flat. He takes two forkfuls of egg before he drops it back to the plate. "Those boys gonna be alone?"

I shrug to loosen the knot between my shoulder blades. "It's Crash's Manager's house." Which is true. At least it was. "So I doubt it."

"I don't." Dan takes so long to say anything else I'm about to gather up my plate to take it to the kitchen. When he does speak, it's with the gentle tone that always surprises me. He rubs his forehead, grimacing. "I told your mom I'd take care of you, Kelly. I know I can be harsh, but it's because I want to keep you safe. You know that, right?"

The person who makes me feel unsafe is you.

I just nod.

He sighs. "You answer your phone if I call. If you need help, you text me the word Peanut." He points his knife at me to emphasize the word. "I'll have my police buddies over there in a heartbeat."

I will. He's always been the kind of guy who watches the surroundings and ushers me and Mom across the road if he thinks there's someone nearby who might cause a problem. Or whatever. His protectiveness is real.

I know he wants to say no to all this. But I also know, because I've heard him on the phone every night for the past week, that he's told too many of his friends that he knows Crash and Tommy, to back out now. He needs proof—photos, stories, information. I'm guessing after a week of bragging, his friends are hinting he's making it up. Being stuck in a hospital they can't visit isn't proof.

"Good idea," I say. "And of course I'll answer the phone." I stand up and reach for my tray, but Dan's hand lands on my arm. I freeze, but he's not scowling.

"I'm glad you're here," he says gruffly, looking at his hand on my arm, instead of at me.

"Uh, me too," I say, melting a little bit inside, suddenly very aware of the sag in his cheeks, the lines in his forehead.

"Without your mom, it feels lonely being in this place. Thanks for staying with me." It's a side he doesn't show a lot, but whenever it comes out I always hate myself for hating him so much. I know he loved Mom. Losing her has been hard on him. It's easy to forget that because we don't talk about it.

"Do you need me here tonight instead?" I ask reluctantly.

He shakes his head and squeezes my arm. "No. Just be careful, kid, okay? I used to be a teenage boy. I know what they're like." The edge returns to his voice, and the ball of warmth I felt dissipates.

I don't know an answer to that that won't upset him, so I take my tray and walk to the door. There's a little stand outside we can leave dishes on and they'll remove them.

This place is like a freaking hotel.

As soon as I'm out of Dan's sight I shake off my uncertainty about his sudden softness and text Tommy back.

See you by 5.

I press send before I can second-guess myself, then bite my lip.

I'm going out after school to hang out with my two oldest friends. It's ridiculous how happy that idea makes me—and how adrenaline spikes through my veins.

Because I'll be close to Crash in a few short hours.

My favorite place to be.

I trudge back into the room to say goodbye to Dan and head to school.

"Yeah?"

I'm startled by the deep voice on the other end of the security box in Crash's driveway.

"Uh, hi. I'm Kelly Berkstram? I, um, I guess I have an appointment with Cr—" I cut off as a loud buzzing noise, followed by the clank, then the rumble of the gates in front of me crawling inwards. I wait until there's enough room for my car to pass between them, then roll forwards slowly into the shadow of the tall house.

The gates open as far as the sides of the driveway, then immediately reverse to swing closed again. I make a mental note not to "dilly-dally" as my mother would have put it, next time I'm coming in. Those metal framed, solid-wood gates look like they could crush my little Corolla and keep going.

Heart banging in my chest, I pull up on the parking brake and lean forward to stare up at the house. It kind of feels like staring at a coffin.

Every bad thing that happened here comes roaring back, flashing through my head in a roll-call of betrayal. Can I really do this? Can I really spend hours in this house and not lose my mind?

I have one hand on my keys and am seriously considering reversing back out those gates—steel reinforcement be damned—when a knock on my window almost sends me through the ceiling.

Clutching my heart, I glare, expecting Tommy. Instead, I'm faced with the biggest man I've ever seen. He's in dark jeans and a hoodie that looks expensive. But it's hard to tell because he's so big, he's bent double to get his face at my window and is motioning for me to wind the window down.

What. The. Hell?