“Let me guess,” Trent said. “You’re looking for Ash.”
“Yeah, man.” The guy pushed his hair back and outstretched a hand. “Name’s Cheeto. And you are…?”
“Trent.” He refused the handshake. “Ash just left.”
“Wait… Trent?” Cheeto squinted as if thinking hard. The guy was probably drugged out of his mind. What a life. “Trent… Trent… You’re the twin brother!”
“Right.”
“Dude!” The weirdo gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Ash talks about you all the time. Usually when she’s drunk, but still, that’s pretty often.”
Trent allowed himself a smile. “I can imagine.”
“Yeah, man, sorry about your leg. That’s rough shit.” Despite touring with Ash, Cheeto seemed pretty chill. “Yo, can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
Trent stepped aside.
The guy swaggered in and unzipped his jacket. He wore an Overkill t-shirt with a winged-bat logo on it. About a thousand necklaces jangled from his neck. When he yawned, Trent smelled cigs and Big Red.
“So where’s Ashes?”
Lauren called from the kitchen. “Trent? Who is it?”
“Just one of Ash’s boy-toys.”
“I wish,” Cheeto said. Surprisingly, he could take a joke. Jesus. Ash normally surrounded herself with bandmates as morbid as she was.
“Want a beer?” Trent asked.
“Would love one.”
Trent grabbed a couple Blue Moons and led Cheeto into the living room. They sat on the couch and clinked bottles.
“You know,” Trent said, “I’m surprised Ash tours with you.”
Cheeto grinned. “Why’s that?”
“You’re actually likable.”
Cheeto cracked up. “Wow. Thanks, I guess.”
“Back when I played bass with Ash, I couldn’t stand our bandmates.” Trent sipped his beer. “Bunch of morbid fucks. Legit devil-worshipping goons. I only put up with them for the extra cash.” He nodded to his leg. “Then this shit happened.”
“Heard the story,” Cheeto said soberly. “Ash is really sorry about it. For what that’s worth.”
“Nothing—that’s what it’s worth.”
“Dude, it legit bothers her. Pains her.”
“It’s the guilt that pains her, not my suffering. She just hates being responsible.”
“I don’t think it’s that.”
“Then you don’t know her.” Trent gulped his beer. He decided it was time Cheeto saw his lead guitarist in a different light. “My sister only gives a shit about herself. Even right after the accident, while she was visiting me in the hospital, she bitched about having to cancel upcoming shows.”
Cheeto shifted uncomfortably. “This is just my guess, but I think you’re why she guitars as hard as she does. Like she wants to hit it big to make up for what she did to you.”
“That’s not it.” Trent shook his head. “Sounds like she never told you the real reason.”
“Reason for what?”
“Her guitar obsession.” With his thumb Trent smothered a water drop streaking down his bottle. “She ever mention the nickname ‘Trashlee’?”
“Trashlee? What’s that?”
“Ash and me are adopted.” Trent drank. “You know that, right?”
Cheeto nodded.
“For whatever reason, our biological parents didn’t want Ash.” Trent frowned. The next part always gave him a case of survivor’s guilt. “Me, they kept. But her, they got rid of.”
“What do you mean ‘got rid of’?”
“You know what they do to unwanted babies in China?”
Cheeto squinted. “Dude, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m not lying,” Trent said. “Our parents left her in a dumpster. Right behind the diner on Main Street.”
Cheeto cringed.
“I never got the full story,” Trent said, setting his beer down. “Only the basic details, like how we were taken from our biological parents and adopted. We didn’t hear the dumpster story till our Aunt Candace got wasted one night. We were twelve at the time. Later the kids at school found out and started calling my sister Trashlee. It drove her nuts. Ever since, she’s been out to prove the world wrong.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Cheeto said.
“Sure is,” Trent said, glaring at him. “Her ambition, her obsession…it cost me my leg. I’m telling you, Cheeto, watch out. If you don’t, you’ll get fucked over sooner or later.”
“No way,” Cheeto said, his green eyes burning. He slammed his bottle down next to Trent’s. “Look, it sucks what happened to your leg, but that was ten years ago. She’s different now. Still kinda self-absorbed, but the other night she stopped our show so two of our fans wouldn’t get squashed against the railing.”
“What if they were someone else’s fans? Think she’d still do it?”
Cheeto hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. You said I don’t know her, but you’re wrong, man. I know Ash Hudson. I’d follow her onto any stage, anywhere. And you know what? We got a huge gig on Friday. We’re gonna nail it thanks to her.”
“If I were you,” Trent said, lifting his beer, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Why not?”
Trent swigged. “Have you seen her hand lately?”
28
After sending Cheeto on his merry way, Trent returned to the kitchen table and cheerfully skinned the remaining potatoes. He hummed Mötley Crüe’s “Don’t Go Away Mad” as he worked. Lauren, stirring gravy at the stove, asked why he was all smiles. After eight tepid years of marriage, she’d finally caught him in the act of being happy.
“Can’t believe what I’m seeing,” she said, removing her glasses and squinting. “Is this really you, Trent?”
“For the moment, yeah,” Trent said, sweeping potato peels into a garbage bag. “Had fun chatting with that Cheeto character.”
“He sounded nice.”
“He is. Good guy, means well… Kinda reminds me of myself before the accident.” Trent winced as his calf muscle spasmed. “Guy’s too trusting, though. I warned him to watch himself around Ash. Might’ve just saved his life.”
“Saint Trent at work,” Lauren said with an amused smile. She tapped her stirring rod on the edge of the pot. The aroma of buttery gravy made his mouth water. “Hey, mind grabbing Jake? I want his opinion on the gravy.”
Trent limped over to the den door. Jake hadn’t made a peep in over an hour, not since Ash brought the beer home. To think Jake enjoyed talking with her… It made Trent sick. Made him furious, too. He couldn’t fathom how his sister had earned Cheeto’s loyalty and Jake’s laughter. She deserved neither.
“Hey, Jake.” Trent knocked. “Mom needs to borrow your tongue.”
Silence. As usual.
“Jake?” Trent tried the knob. Still locked. “Open the door or your iPod’s mine. No more Goosebumps audiobooks till we get back to Jersey.”