Read Online Finding Sadie (Los Rancheros #0.5) by Brandace Morrow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brandace Morrow
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locksmith to my house right that fucking second. Then I pull up the house app on my phone and change the code.
I have no way to get in contact with Batty. I’m not going to go back. My mind was made up last night. No way in hell I was going through that again. But it seems I would have to go one last time to rip his delicious face off.
Two hours later, I’m in band practice for the tour. We finish the song and go to grab some water while the guys keep playing to transition into the next song. “What the hell are you doing?” I sigh and put the cap back on the cold bottle.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask in a flat voice, looking over at Brian.
“You aren’t even fucking singing the songs!” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, that was actually what it was. Singing. Not screaming and growling the whole thing. I can’t do that shit anymore just for practice.” I move away from him before I miss my cue but Brian grabs my arm. It’s his favorite place to bruise me.
“You go into practice pretending it’s the fucking Madison Square Garden.”
“But I won’t have a voice for the rest of the day if I do that now. I barely speak on tour because it’s gone. I don’t know how much more my voice can take.” I lift my arm to try to get it away from him, but he doesn’t let go.
“How do I know you can still do it if you don’t prove it in rehearsals? I can replace you with some young little thing in a second Pops.”
My worst fear spoken from the man who’s supposed to have my back. He never has, though, and we both know it. Speaking of Pops, I’m fucking Popper, Goddammit. My hand holding the water bottle slams into the top of his head, splashing water everywhere, ruining his greasy comb over. But his sausage hands are off of my arm. I walk away with a smirk on my face. Yeah. It’s good to be Popper sometimes.
I didn’t even miss my cue into the song.
“Do you think you were hard on the parents?”
I roll my eyes and pop my gum. I’m rewarded with an eye twitch. “No, I don’t. Those people just left her there in a fucking cold room alone. I was the last thing she saw.”
We had been going back and forth about this for thirty minutes now. She wasn’t convincing me that I overreacted.
“Was she happy when she died, Popper?” the doc asks me quietly. She’s solemn which is the only reason I answer.
“She was laughing. I reached to grab another stuffed animal and the monitor went off. She just looked like she fell asleep.” I stare ahead, seeing it over again for the millionth time.
“Do you think she was happy, if she died laughing? Do you think she was missing her parents and blamed them in that second her heart stopped?”
I shake my head, barely a movement at all, but she sees it. I know Rachel wasn’t thinking about her parents not being there. That was the whole fucking point. To give them something their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t do for them.
She lets me process for a minute before prompting me. “So you know that you are giving them something they won’t forget? A little peace, happiness maybe, when their world is worry and pain? Then what do you get from it, Sadie?”
I don’t miss that she slipped the name in there, but I’m trying to think of something besides Batty that I get from going to the hospital. I think . . . and think.
“Do you smile when you’re there?”
“Yeah. Some.”
“Do you laugh?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“How do you feel when you leave there?”
Horny. It almost comes out of my mouth. Maybe Sadie comes with a filter? Not a bad thing.
I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. “I feel . . . too many things to count. They’re all jumbled together.”
“Like what?”
“Sad, angry, happy that they smiled, hurting for what they are going through, relieved I could do something, anxious that they won’t be there next time,
I have no way to get in contact with Batty. I’m not going to go back. My mind was made up last night. No way in hell I was going through that again. But it seems I would have to go one last time to rip his delicious face off.
Two hours later, I’m in band practice for the tour. We finish the song and go to grab some water while the guys keep playing to transition into the next song. “What the hell are you doing?” I sigh and put the cap back on the cold bottle.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask in a flat voice, looking over at Brian.
“You aren’t even fucking singing the songs!” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, that was actually what it was. Singing. Not screaming and growling the whole thing. I can’t do that shit anymore just for practice.” I move away from him before I miss my cue but Brian grabs my arm. It’s his favorite place to bruise me.
“You go into practice pretending it’s the fucking Madison Square Garden.”
“But I won’t have a voice for the rest of the day if I do that now. I barely speak on tour because it’s gone. I don’t know how much more my voice can take.” I lift my arm to try to get it away from him, but he doesn’t let go.
“How do I know you can still do it if you don’t prove it in rehearsals? I can replace you with some young little thing in a second Pops.”
My worst fear spoken from the man who’s supposed to have my back. He never has, though, and we both know it. Speaking of Pops, I’m fucking Popper, Goddammit. My hand holding the water bottle slams into the top of his head, splashing water everywhere, ruining his greasy comb over. But his sausage hands are off of my arm. I walk away with a smirk on my face. Yeah. It’s good to be Popper sometimes.
I didn’t even miss my cue into the song.
“Do you think you were hard on the parents?”
I roll my eyes and pop my gum. I’m rewarded with an eye twitch. “No, I don’t. Those people just left her there in a fucking cold room alone. I was the last thing she saw.”
We had been going back and forth about this for thirty minutes now. She wasn’t convincing me that I overreacted.
“Was she happy when she died, Popper?” the doc asks me quietly. She’s solemn which is the only reason I answer.
“She was laughing. I reached to grab another stuffed animal and the monitor went off. She just looked like she fell asleep.” I stare ahead, seeing it over again for the millionth time.
“Do you think she was happy, if she died laughing? Do you think she was missing her parents and blamed them in that second her heart stopped?”
I shake my head, barely a movement at all, but she sees it. I know Rachel wasn’t thinking about her parents not being there. That was the whole fucking point. To give them something their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t do for them.
She lets me process for a minute before prompting me. “So you know that you are giving them something they won’t forget? A little peace, happiness maybe, when their world is worry and pain? Then what do you get from it, Sadie?”
I don’t miss that she slipped the name in there, but I’m trying to think of something besides Batty that I get from going to the hospital. I think . . . and think.
“Do you smile when you’re there?”
“Yeah. Some.”
“Do you laugh?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“How do you feel when you leave there?”
Horny. It almost comes out of my mouth. Maybe Sadie comes with a filter? Not a bad thing.
I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. “I feel . . . too many things to count. They’re all jumbled together.”
“Like what?”
“Sad, angry, happy that they smiled, hurting for what they are going through, relieved I could do something, anxious that they won’t be there next time,
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