Dirty Roulette, page 36
The second I open the door, a dumpy security officer storms down the hallway talking through the radio. There are still a ton of people around, some are even drinking energy drinks and chatting next to people they walk with.
“Copy that. CCTV on this level is down too, over.” Static rustles over the radio while the security officer squints up at the cameras above us; trying to blend in, I walk in his direction as my heart races in my chest. The control panel is this way. There is no other hallway, and I’m scared he’ll recognize me from my cat fight with Brittni. If he does, I’m done for. My palms turn clammy. I can’t see his face, so I silently pray a Hail Mary that he doesn’t see mine.
“I’ve tried everything, I’m going to have to reset the entire system, over,” the voice on the other end of the radio replies.
The security officer leans into the radio. “How long is that gonna take? Over.”
“I’m running more tests. Could be electrical. I’ll let you know. Over and out.”
The security officer turns to me, and my eyes widen like a deer in headlights. It’s Mr. Clorox. It’s like a mic dropped. It's him. He wobbles down the hallway wearing a security uniform. How he managed to snag one, I don’t question. Flubber sways back and forth with each step he takes.
“We got about ten minutes before he figures out someone hacked their main security system,” he says while he waddles down the hallway.
“Wait what?” I stroll right next to him, with my hands wrapped around my waist.
“The cameras are down – you don’t have much time.”
I make another left with Mr. Clorox, knowing the control panel is down this hall at the very end on the right. I’m only a few feet away from the room, and I can see the door swinging open. A man I barely get a glimpse at rushes out the door with a radio glued to his hand as he storms down the hallway.
The door is left wide open, and I’m standing in front of the control panel with several monitors, volume control gadgets, and random flickering lights. I run a hand over my face, thinking it’s a dream and I need to just wake up. I take a steadying breath. All I have to do is plug in that flash drive while Noah sings his heart out.
“Here.” Mr. Clorox digs around in his pocket like it’s a Mary Poppins bag and he pulls out a red flash drive. “Plug this into the computer, and it will do the rest.” He puckers his lips, and what looks like cottage cheese cakes at the creases of his mouth.
“I got yours too.” I reach into my sports bra, handing over the flash drives I uncovered from Brody’s room. “We looked for you at the gas station but you weren’t there.”
“This is the best transaction of my life,” he wiggles his brows.
“Keep watch for me.” I slid into the room with the lights off and several computer monitors all over the room. I plop down in the whirling chair that’s still warm. Searching around, I find the main hard-drive and plug it in. The images on the computers shake, distort, and twitch, and all turn black with a single dot blinking on the screens. The codes start to funnel down the monitors like someone is typing a million words a minute.
“Holy hell!” I’m breathing hard, and fling myself off the seat. I peek out the blinds with two fingers at first, but then I yank on the strings, lifting the blinds all the way up for front row seats.
Noah’s head hangs low, holding onto the standing mic, pumping his head as the first chord strums. I recognize the beats of the guitarist and watch Omen move his fingers, playing each note perfectly. Lights go dark and the stadium is silent as the base of the drums set the pace. A Nineties classic, Come Undone by Duran Duran.
Not bad for someone who likes listening to Drake.
The grit in the voice is a near-perfect match to the vocals of the original. His extra grunts and growls give it spice and my heart thumps.
White lights on the ceiling start flashing and it’s accompanied by a loud blaring alarm. Shivers crawl up my spine to my face as I leap from the sound of the fire alarm going off. Then there is a loud grunting noise outside the door, and a booming thud makes the floor shake.
“Mr. Clorox?” I ask, watching the door crack open through the reflection on the window. I’m betting he’s cueing me – it’s time to make a break for it – but in the reflection all I see is an angry blonde Barbie, and the red mark on her face. Fear spreads throughout my bloodstream staring at her bloody hand. She fists a pocket knife. The blade glimmers, and it points at me.
The only sound is Noah’s voice singing between the loud beeps of the fire alarm, and Brittni staring at me with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“It should have been you!” Brittni’s lips tremble through the reflection of the window, and my eyes won’t leave her fist trembling with the knife. I glance at the door, cracked open just enough to show a lifeless fat hand on the floor. I lift my hands as if I’m surrounded by the swat team and I turn around to face her.
“What do you mean?” I swallow, but the devil is at my throat.
She’s chuckling loud enough to cause a fault line to blow. “I gave him everything! Fucking everything for him to always be looking at you!” She points the knife a foot away from my face. It’s right between my nose. “Fucking you!” She inches closer like a serpent coiling around a mouse before it strikes.
“I...”
“Shut up!”
I slam my eyes shut, trembling. The dream of ruining Brody molds into a nightmare right before my eyes. “I should be the one standing next to him, but since day one you’ve done nothing but try to steal him!”
Breathe Payton... Breathe. Snap out of it. It’s a knife. Mum helped you with this once. Cloud Nine is full of men with them. What did Mum teach you that day? Come on, it was your junior year. The kitchen, her running a hand through her curly hair as she held up a butter knife, telling me step by step.
Distance... that’s the first step.
“I’m the cheerleader with the football star, NOT YOU!” she shouts.
I inch my feet to the right, my back meeting the edge of the desk. “I never tried to steal him...” Step two. Verbal de-escalation, but my social skills are lacking. Might need to cross this one out. “We were only friends.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her… I...” Brittni’s eyes water, tears and sweat pool down her face. Blood-shot eyes rage as I scoot inch by inch along the edge of the desk. “I... I didn’t mean to. She was going to be my sister,” she stammers.
Charlie. My eyes glance to the objects on the desk. Step three. Find a hard, rigid object. There is only paper, pencils, and a damn paper plate with a half-eaten-powdered donut. Stay perpendicular to her, Payton. Fuck. I don’t even remember what that term meant in math. “I wanted to kill you. You’re nothing but Trailer Trash!”
My eyes dart to the metal trash can on the floor then to her face. Over and over. Now. I make a break for it. As she realizes my intentions, she lunges forward. The second I grab the trash can, her knife clashes with the metal. With all my strength, I shove the trash can into her chest, knocking her into the monitors.
I back away, slipping out the door, and trip over the arm lying lifeless on the floor. Mr. Clorox gurgles, blood coughing up out of his mouth. I scream. Several puncture wounds cover the white security uniform, blood pooling below, and now it’s on me. My ears crackle and ring as I shriek. I’m shaking all over.
Brittni doesn’t hesitate to pursue, coming out of the doorway while I crawl backward with my forearms. The knife is still glued to her hand.
What did Mum say? What did she tell me? Shit. Left foot, Payton. Left foot. I raise it. Mum is talking to me in my head telling me to wait until the attacker approaches. She’s right above me, within reach of my feet. That’s it. I put my left foot against her heel, and slam my right leg against the back of her knee as hard as I can, pushing her away. Brittni falls face-first onto the tile floor, blood smearing all over the green Falcon logo.
“Run Payton... run!” Mr. Clorox says in mid-cough, blood spitting out between his teeth. I crawl up into a run with security racing from the opposite direction.
Chapter fifty-one
Ryder
Imust have skipped minutes again because Jared and Nick are hauling me off. Breathing is hard. Everyone is shouting expletives. I try to throw them off me, but they aren’t budging. Tito, a mountain of a man, and Farva hold my arms at my back as they try to shuffle me to another side of the locker room. I'm not calming down. At this point, I'm at my limit.
Coach holds a bloody nose, and I don’t recall slugging a fist in his face. All while Brody coughs up a laugh, knowing he's won. I've ruined any career in the NFL after this. He holds his hands up, backing away with subtle steps.
Out of nowhere, the fire alarm blares, sending a jolt of electricity to spiral up my spine. Fluorescent lights flash and the roar of the team dulls by the second. They pinch their eyebrows, others whisper and on cue, they all start to jog with quick feet to the nearest exit. Tito grabs me by the back of the neck pushing me to walk out of the locker room. I follow the neon green exit sign to the double doors and step onto the field, covered in pitch blackness.
A voice in the loudspeakers echos through the stadium. It belongs to Brody. He laughs as he says, “You wanna be a part of the team, you gotta spin the bottle, baby. Film it, or I'll post it.”
It’s coming out of every speaker, echoing through each seating section.
“Are you serious? You’ll ruin my parents’ careers,” a guy says.
“That’s not my problem.”Brody laughs.
The people in the stands sing along. They haven’t picked up on the conversation on the loudspeakers. They think it’s part of the show. But then again, it kind of is, isn’t it? Phones with flashlights wave in the air, swaying back and forth. They know the iconic song down to the very beat of the drums. Even I know this song from Payton playing it in the Jeep. She’d forced me to sing along during our spontaneous adventures with Charlie.
The voices on the loudspeakers cut through the music again.
Brody is cackling and spits out. “The dude’s into sucking dicks... wait until your entire cult of Mormon morons find out you’re gay.”
“You’re fucking sick, man.” The guy stammers.
“Well, it’s time to come out of the closet. It’s not like you can throw a ball, anyway.”
Payton did it. Holy hell. She really did it.
Searching through the stadiums, there is no way I’m finding her in this massive crowd, but I'll sure as hell try. I jostle and wedge myself through people. Shoulder checking, and knocking into every person in my way. The media and crews with cameras stumble into action to get the scoop, but I push right through them like I'm racing with the ball to the endzone. I even knock over an entire camera stand. My cleats tangle in the wires and I kick off the cords. I don't even bother to apologize as the crew holler at me with hands held high.
With two hands I plant myself at the edge of the bleachers and leap up, falling over into a group of people. Popcorn goes flying out of some dude's hands.
“Hey, watch it!” He throws off his red beanie, and now I don’t give two shits about my lack of manners. He’s rooting for the other team. I pick myself up, pushing people aside so I can snake myself through.
“Oh my god, it's the Crab!” A girl swats at her friends, and points a finger as I climb the steps.
The crowd starts to go still. Stopping in their tracks, heads tilting, whispering to those next to them. They start switching to their camera mode, pressing the red button, and filming what's happening.
“Sleep with me and break up with him,” Brody demands through the speakers.
“In your dreams!” My heart stops as Charlie's voice hits the loudspeaker. Her voice cracking as she sobs. “Don’t make me do this!”
Too much blood fills my heart and it ruptures from hearing her.
“You aren’t staying with him!”
“That's not your choice!” My face is wet as I hold onto the metal railing to carry my weight.
“I’ll destroy your little best friend and post all her secrets online. Now dump that poser!” Brody snaps, his tone filled with violence.
“You can’t force someone to love you”
“Well, date rape is easy when you’re always drunk, how about I show up to your little concert and treat her to a surprise!” Brody says.
I might vomit as I hold my stomach, hearing her voice, when it's disappeared entirely from my life. The last time I heard her voice, she was belligerent, crying, telling me she hated me – and now I'm hearing this. I gotta remind myself I’m searching for Payton.
The band easily flows into their next song. Noah appears on the screen, clenching his eyes tight as his grunts, and vocals invade the stadium. The cords of the guitar break out heavy and loud and the drumsticks beat against the snare a mile a minute. His lyrics scream out and he does that thing metalheads do. Bangs his head around as they perform on the stage.
Her heartbeat is hard to forget
Her voice is ringing in my ears
You’re drowning because I’m the stranger in her bed
You can’t cover it up now
The bruises you left
And you dealt the cards and put the gun to her head
Now you’re bleeding in sweat
Self-destructing in a bed of silver you laid
Did you really think we couldn’t raise ourselves from this hell
You can nail me to the cross
I’ll still find you in three days
burn me at the stake,
I’ll make sure you suffocate in the smoke I made
Messing with her is the biggest mistake you ever made
You wanted an enemy and you’ve created me from clay
I’m fire from the heavens, a wolf in sheeps skin
Did you really think we couldn’t raise ourselves from this hell
You can nail me to the cross
I’ll still find you in three days
burn me at the stake,
I’ll make sure you suffocate in the smoke I made
The Jumbotrons display the classic gray static like a television without a signal. White noise blares through the speakers. The image switches to the black computer screen with green letter codes typing. The period dots blink, showing a loading screen.
Static switches again and a video pops up like a Facebook reel.
Brody is filming himself with a bottle of vodka in his hands, forcing a girl to drink. He tosses the girl wearing nothing but her underwear onto a bed, clearly intoxicated and falling in and out of consciousness. Guys on the team take turns to have their way with her.
It’s static again, and a new video starts to play.
Someone filmed Brody and I throwing fists on the football field. I can taste the blood on my lips again. Lineman kicked me in the stomach, and the shock wave of the sound sent the same pain to crawl back into my bloodstream. Brody punches my face, tossing me into the turf with dust flying.
“It came out of your mouth that you wouldn't do this to my sister!”
"But Trash isn't your sister, now is she?”
I watch myself on the screen.
I had used a hand to lift myself up. I'm visibly shaking. Brody socks me again in the jaw, throwing me back to the ground. He steps over me with a finger pointing at my face. “She decided to play the game, and you’re not sweet talking me out of it!”
“You said you wouldn’t do this to them!”
“I’m not going to delete those damn pictures of that piece of trash!” Brody spit in my face. He twisted his fist in my hair, pulling me up to face him. I can still see his eyes burning into mine that day. “Ask me one more time, and you won’t be breathing.” He punches me in the face again. “Now are we good, Crab?!”
I pull my eyes from the screen. People in the crowd cover their mouths. They are in shock, gasping, and it's sinking in. The ones near me turn heads. The terror is written in their eyes, knowing they just watched my teammate beat the shit out of me on the big screen. I shake them off and keep climbing up the narrow stairs.
More videos pop up.
Other girls Brody’s taken advantage of.
The website he airs everyone’s dirty laundry on.
Even the text messages he’s sent to other guys demanding them to play his stupid game of Roulette. It’s displayed for the world to see and someone is sitting on their couch with a cold beer with all of this airing live on ESPN if they haven’t already pulled the plug.
Several Security guards race up the stairs at the further end of the stadium. Even police are all over the place, with guns lowered as they climb up the stairs. Shit. Something is wrong. Something is telling me to move now.
I burst through a set of double doors and halt. People are scattering. Running until it's empty. So empty that it’s like I walked into a different universe. These halls are usually jam-packed with people lining up to use the public bathrooms, but it's just the blaring fire alarm and overhead lights flashing off the polished floor. There is pure fear melting into my bones as I hear a raw, terrifying scream.
"Payton!" I shout, stampeding to the sound reverberating off the walls.
"Get off me! Someone help!" It echoes in all directions of the hallways.
My blood runs cold, chills prickling every nerve. My heart pumps as I jog, peeking around at every corner. Then I see it on the floor. Crimson stains smearing along the tile. I think I stopped breathing. It's smeared along a stair railing and on the walls like it's right out of a crime scene. "Payton!"
I follow the trail, and the screaming grows louder by the second. I pass the opening of the women's bathroom with shrill cries. I storm in to see Payton pressed against the wall, with both hands wrapped around Brittni’s wrist. She’s holding something sharp. Payton shakes all over, fighting to get it away from her face. They scream at each other. Payton headbutts Brittni, spinning herself around and slamming Brittni's hand against the wall.
