Page 192 of Broken Lines
He nods his chin at me, turns, and puts his fucking hands on Melody’s shoulders.
And when he does, she looks like she fuckingdies.
Right there in front of my eyes, I watch her turn to ash. I watch the light extinguish from her eyes, and her body go rigid and still.
I watch pure trauma play out across her frozen face.
And suddenly, just as they turn and disappear through the security-guarded door, it clicks.
And I see fuckingred.
42
Jackson
Fame has its privileges.Plenty of curses, sure. But tonight, it’s the privilege of fame that gets me past security into the artists-only backstage area of the Beacon Theatre.
But I’m not here for the show. At the moment, I’m not even here to kidnap Melody or anything like that.
I’m here to slay her fucking monster.
I didn’t know. It never even occurred to me. Even knowing somewhere in the back of my mind the random music world trivia that Kurt and Judy once dated. Even knowing from my time on the road with him exactly what a piece of shit he is.
I never put two and two together, until just now. Until I saw him touch her, and watched a piece of her die right there on her face.
And now, I know.
My blood is like acid in my veins as I slink through the backstage hallways. Until suddenly, I’m standing in front of his fucking dressing room door.
I don’t knock. I just twist the knob and walk right in. Kurt whirls, his face going white. The girl who looks even younger than Melody gasps as she pulls her mouth away from his pathetic looking dick. Her face turns red as she quickly buttons her top back up. Kurt glances at me, swallowing as he tucks his baby-dick away.
“Fuck, Jackson, man,” he laughs nervously, eying me. “I’ve been meaning to reach out, brother. You’re back!”
I say nothing. I just glare death at him before turning to the girl.
“You should go.”
Kurt makes a face.
“Naw, c’mon, baby. Stay.” He glances at me, grinning. “Shit, tonight might even be your lucky night. Two rock stars all for you? What do you say, Havoc? Want to make this a crowd?”
The girl blushes, grinning salaciously at me.
“Leave. Now.”
She blinks, flushing at the lethal tone in my voice. She nods quickly, gathering her bag before she brushes past me and out the door.
I kick it shut behind me. Kurt sighs heavily, reaching for a beer.
“Fuck, man. When did you turn into a cockblock—fuck!”
He chokes, spilling his beer as I slam into him. I shove him backwards, knocking him over the couch behind him and sprawling him out on the floor.
“What thefuck, man!?” He roars, lunging to his feet and glaring at me. “Are you fucking high? Dude, this is a fuckingcustomshirt—woah,woah, Jack—”
He squeals when my fist breaks his nose, splattering blood all over his custom fucking douchebag shirt. He stumbles back, blood pouring down his face as he lands on his ass and looks up at me in horror.
“What thefuck—”