I did my best to not punch him in the face, but the desire to do so was strong. He should’ve told me what happened last night.
“Was she raped?” I asked, holding his stare, preparing myself for his answer.
He sighed. “I don’t know. But she did have a big cut on her inner arm. It looked fresh.”
Fuck, she was cutting again. I noticed some old scars on her arm, but I never said anything about them.
My phone started ringing, pulling me from my thoughts. I tried to decipher who was calling but it was difficult considering the screen shattered when it met my TV yesterday.
“Hey.”
“We need to talk,” said Axel.
“What’s up?”
“It’s about your girl. She’s passed out on my couch right now,” Axel said quietly, and I heard what sounded like a door shut.
“Why is she with you?” I put the call on speakerphone so Bronx could hear it.
“I ran into her outside of school. She was in the middle of a panic attack. Got all cut up when she fell on the cement. I didn’t want her driving in that state, so I brought her here and got her cleaned up.”
“Okay, try to keep her there. I don’t think she’s safe at home.”
“That’s why I was calling. She asked me to dig up dirt on your favorite teacher. Reynolds. She thinks he’s the one behind the Instagram account.”
“Shit,” Bronx and I said at the same time.
“She won’t say why but she seemed desperate for information. She wants to take him down. I’m going to help her, but I wanted you to know. I’m not sure what happened to make her change her mind about him, but that shiner on her face might have something to do with it.”
Motherfucker. Mother. Fucker.
“I’ll kill that motherfucker if he touched her,” I gritted my teeth, potentially busting molars in the process.
“I’m going to run some searches on him. Bank records first. That should give some insight into who he is and what he’s been up to.”
“We need to be sure he’s the one who hurt her last night before you go on a rampage,” Bronx chimed.
“Then that’s what I’ll do. Axel, you keep looking for dirt. Keep Ashtyn there for a while. I’ll call Cade and have him help me and Bronx.”
“And how are we going to do that? Ashtyn’s not talking.”
“If she won’t tell us, then we’ll go to the source. Get dressed. We’re going back to Aces.”
Acesbuzzedwithamixture of twenty and thirty-somethings, so we easily skated by the bouncer at the door. I don’t think he looked at my fake ID for longer than a second.
Bronx and I stopped to pick up Cade, explaining the situation to him on the way to the bar. He was down for a covert mission that included going to Aces and scoping out thehot waitresses, he said.
The place was hazy with smoke and sweat, the air conditioning set to a balmy seventy-eight degrees. The patrons didn’t seem to mind. We found two open seats at the bar, so Bronx and I sat down while Cade went toinvestigatethe dance floor. Whatever.
“Hey, I remember you two!” The pretty boy bartender said to us with a smile. “You’re Ashtyn’s friends.”
“He is,” I thumbed at Bronx. “She hates my guts.”
The bartender–Max, I remembered–laughed. “She’s a spitfire, that one. What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Two beers. The darkest you have on tap,” I responded.
“Comin’ right up.”