Page 3 of Facing the Music

The twin on my right—Jax—snorts as he leans closer. “Tia, I think Paval is sweet on you.”

“Well, he saved me from getting my head bashed in.” I refuse to admit to our growing feelings. It won’t serve either one of us. Tragedy brought us together but Paval and I aren’t compatible in the end—his words, not mine. I’m still holding out hope that he’ll see us differently. It helps that my current boyfriend, Cairo, has been pushing me into Paval’s arms, as strange as that sounds. It might also have to do with the fact that he thinks Paval is cute.

Not my description for Paval but I’ll take it.

The other twin—Aidan—scoots a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You sent an SOS an hour ago. What’s up?”

“That was anhourago. It’s nothing. Just the numbers aren’t adding up. Heath was angry—that’s the guy I just met because he’s owed a grand but I don’t have it. Not until the other bastards pay up. The problem is that there’s a large chunk missing from this morning and I have no idea where it disappeared to.” I tug at my hair, a frustrated growl seeping through my lips. The twins and Cairo are the only ones I’d ever dare share that information with.

Everyone on the down low knows that I do the books for the underground fights every weekend. If they want a bet, I’m the one they go to. Seeing as this university is quite prestigious with a lot of students rolling in money, bets tend to start at a few hundred and go up. At any given time, I’m dealing in thousands of dollars. There’s a profit margin in there for me as well but not if I can’t match up my goddamn numbers.

“Did you check your roommate?”

I frown and glare at Jax. “No. Paula wouldn’t do that.” I throw my bag on my desk and unearth the little black book I’m famous for. My roommate and I don’t generally get along. She’s everyone’s favorite ditzy blonde and I’m the lawyer by day and bookkeeper by night. God, if my program knew how I was paying for my tuition, I’d be fucked.

Aidan slaps a small envelope onto the desk and I frown at it, recognizing Paula’s awful handwriting. Opening it up, there’s five crisp one hundred dollar bills inside, each with my little mark in the corner. She’s so fucking stupid. “Mentioned that she couldn’t find you but wanted to bet on Cairo for tonight’s fight.” The twins are my unofficial bodyguards and lackeys for the underground fights. They have been ever since I stumbled into that world and started seeing one of the best fighters down there.

Cairo is brawn and brains, smart and strong but he chooses to use his fists rather than his words. Something about the power that hangs off of him drew me to him as well as the way I’m able to be myself around him. Where I feel protected and safe with Paval, I feel like I can explore with Cairo. I’m a selfish bitch to want both, right?

“Motherfucker. Did she really steal from me to place a bet on my goddamn boyfriend?” The three of us know that Paula doesn’t have this kind of cash on hand and even if she did, they’d be crumpled up 20s and 5s. I mark all my bills to know what is supposed to be on my person versus in someone else’s hand. Forthe brief moment I left my shit unattended Paula decided to take from me. She’ll pay for that.

The twins each place a kiss to my temple before standing and giving me mock salutes. “Let us know if you need anything from us, Tia,” Jax says. “It’s been a pleasure working with you. See you tonight?”

I nod and wave them away, ignoring the odd stares from students filing in. I stuff my book and the envelope back into my bag before beginning to plot Paula’s demise. No one steals from me and gets away with it. Some part of me wants to sic Cairo or Paval on this situation but I don’t need blood and I definitely don’t want to rearrange her face.

However, she needs to know that I’m not stupid.

So, I do one better.

Hey, Paula. We need to talk.

Sweet, simple, anxiety-inducing.

My favorite.

Chapter three

PAVAL

I stare at the items placed symmetrically across my mattress, all parallel to the edge of the bed. It pains me that when my thoughts are chaotic, I try to make everything else perfect. If that means aligning items on the bed in a certain way before placing them in my backpack, I do it. Because it’s the one thing I can control.The laptop is crooked.I won’t even need that tonight but I can never be too careful.

I could do with a new wallet, the fraying leather making it so that it sits crooked. However, it has sentimental value, and getting rid of it would be disrespectful. The pencil is perfectly sharpened and the pen is a dark brown, nearly black color that I’ve been reprimanded for using on assignments. I don’t care, though. It’s the closest to Tia’s eyes that I can get away with. A quick glance at the worn notebook has my face scrunching up in anger.

The papers are crinkled from the scribbles I unleash on it when the thoughts get too loud and I have to write everything down before I can breathe again. It’s not a fucking journal. I don’t do that. And the ramblings would never make sense to anyone else. I blame Rhys for that—the way that numbers and patterns and puzzles take over sometimes. The latest pattern is Tia’s movements.

I don’t understand them. She’s on parts of the campus at times that don’t make sense. She meets people she shouldn’t know. And that little black notebook is newer.What are you doing, Tia?I tap my chin, resisting the urge to flip open my notebook and start trying to connect the dots again.

A heavy sigh falls from my lips and then I reach over to straighten the laptop and then count the items again. Seven. Perfect.

Excitement rushes through me at the thought of going home and seeing my fathers. I’m never aware of how much I enjoy their presence and their advice or just the feeling of home. Losing my parents at such a young age never bothered me as much as it should have because Valentyn—my uncle—made sure I’d never wanted anything. He’s told me stories of my father and mother, making sure I know who is missing in my life but I don’t feel left behind.

I count the items one more time as I place them into my bag.Laptop, phone, statistics textbook, pencil, pen, notebook, wallet.Once everything is situated, I make my way down the hall, head tucked to avoid interaction with the fraternity brothers I live with. The first few days into my graduate degree, I was sucked into the chaos that everyone labels as fun. I don’t enjoy it, though. I need something more exhilarating. Something that will catch my attention andkeepit.

Parties don’t do that.

The sports on campus aren’t violent enough and I don’t want to wear a uniform.

And if anyone knew about my obsessive hobbies, I’d be offered help rather than an elective.