Bad Company (Avery's Crossing: Gage and Nova Book 1) Read online

  Bad Company

  Tori Minard

  Copyright 2014 Tori Minard

  Cover art by Tori Minard from photos by © Daniel Sroga and © Steve Allen

  This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are invented by the author or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

  Enchanted Lyre Books

  Chapter 1

  The Devil’s Coming

  Gage:

  When I was ten years old, my mom made a deal with the devil.

  Seriously. I shit you not.

  Right in the living room of our cheap-ass apartment. You’ve heard those stories about people calling up Old Nick at some lonely country crossroads, right? But my mom didn’t bother with that. She summoned him at an altar set up on our entertainment center, right next to our dying TV.

  My dad, in case you’re wondering, had nothing to do with it. He took off when I was three and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even remember him.

  Nowadays, I didn’t live in that shithole anymore. We’d come up in the world since. That deal had propelled me into the movie business.

  My career had moved slowly at first but I’d worked steadily, made a name for myself as a kid actor, then transitioned to adult roles, something a lot of child actors never manage. And for a variety of reasons, I strongly suspected The Deal had protected me from some nasty, child-molesting fuckheads who used their positions of power in the business to get what they wanted from vulnerable kids.

  Some of my friends hadn’t been so lucky. If you can call a deal with the devil luck.

  Now I lived in a two-story luxury condo with an ocean view. My mom had her own place bought with my money, from a career I hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve.

  I hadn’t seen the old apartment with its cardboard walls in fifteen years.

  Still, when my mom called me five minutes before I had to leave for an important Hollywood party, I knew the devil was on her mind again.

  I hauled the phone out of my jeans pocket as I went to my walk-in closet—roughly the size of your average airport concourse, with shiny black woodwork—to find something to wear. My thumb hovered over the talk button as I weighed whether or not to answer. She’d already left seven messages on my voicemail, all of them about him. And although I couldn’t do anything about the problem, I also knew she wouldn’t stop pestering me and leaving those nagging messages until I picked up and talked to her.

  Shit. Maybe I could make this conversation quick. I hit the talk button.

  “Yeah?” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. She drove me nuts, but she was still my mom.

  “Gage? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Mom, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You didn’t answer my messages.”

  I walked across my half-empty closet and started flipping through my shirts. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I want you to be extra careful, okay?” Her voice sounded kind of slurred, like she’d been drinking.

  “Why? What’s up?” I chose a charcoal-gray silk. That was as formal as I got. No suit jackets, but a silk shirt I could do.

  “You know,” my mom whispered. “It’s him.”

  “Who?” I knew, but I wanted to make her say it.

  “You know. About The Deal. I’m worried about it.”

  I’d showered earlier, after a hard gym session, so all I needed was a change of clothes. Tucking the phone between my chin and my shoulder, I stripped my T-shirt off with my free hand. “Isn’t it a little late to worry now?”

  “It’s never too late.”

  Huh. You could’ve fooled me. It seemed to me it was way too late to do anything about The Deal, like say not making the goddamn thing in the first place.

  “Gage? Are you still there?”

  I breathed in deeply through my nose. Patience. I needed patience. If I argued with her, we could be here all night, or until I hung up on her. “I’m here.”

  “He’s going to come for you. Soon. I want you to be super careful.”

  “Mom, you’ve been drinking,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Call me back when you’re sober.”

  “How can you tell? Anyway, I’ve only had a few. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “That’s no way to talk to your own mother.” She was trying for parental dignity, but it was too late for that as well. Also hard to pull off when she was drunk.

  I pictured her sitting at her kitchen table with a bottle of vodka and a cigarette, her hair messy and her makeup smeared. It was probably yesterday’s makeup.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said. “I’m already late.”

  “Everyone’s late to those parties. Gage, I feel like you’re not listening to me.”

  That’s because I wasn’t. I practically knew this lecture by heart. She could’ve just texted me with something like “devil lecture”, and we wouldn’t have had to talk at all.

  “Your friend Jeremy,” she said. “He’s been in a lot of trouble lately.”

  I frowned as I skinned out of my jeans. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with the deal?”

  Jeremy was my closest friend, a former child actor like me. Also like me, he played guitar and fooled around with the drums and we occasionally played together. He’d struggled with heroin addiction for years. His family and I had done interventions and nothing had stuck so far. He’d do okay for a while, then slip up and start using again. I was hoping this time would be the charm, the one that saved him.

  She made an impatient noise. “Haven’t you ever wondered if it’s because of him? Maybe he’s influencing Jeremy.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

  “This isn’t funny! He told me...” She started whispering again. “He told me you had to die before he could take your soul, and if he couldn’t get to you then he’d go after the people around you. Maybe he’s targeting Jeremy.”

  Most people would probably decide my mom was playing with only a partial deck at this point. I mean, nobody believes in this stuff anymore, right? Except a few snake-handler types, that is.

  But I’d been there. When she called up Old Scratch, I’d been huddled in a corner of the living room between the couch and the side wall. Hunkered down, terrified, peering out from beneath the ratty blue throw blanket I’d dragged over my head as the only protection I could think of, my arms around the stuffed-toy rabbit I thought I’d grown out of.

  He’d materialized right in our living room, looking just as real as any regular human being except for the way his eyes glowed red. My mom hadn’t even flinched. She’d presented The Deal like she was a master Devil-negotiator, like she worked these contracts all the time. Probably because it hadn’t been her soul on the line.

  I’d seen him. I knew he was real.

  “Jeremy just got out of rehab, Mom. He’s doing much better than he has in years.” I hoped. “I’m pretty sure the devil isn’t after him.”

  “You don’t know that.” In the background, glass clinked and liquid gurgled. She was pouring herself another fucking drink. “He’s tricky. And if he can’t get you, he’ll take out each of the people close to you. He could come after me.”

  Now we got to the point. This was what really terrified her. The loss of her own skin. Although I had to wonder why the devil would take Jeremy or my mother? Why not just go straight to me, if I was who he wanted? That was the part of
this whole scenario that I didn’t get.

  “Would you like me to kill myself so you don’t have to worry anymore?” My voice was dry as the desert.

  “No! Of course not!” She actually sounded like I’d offended her. Maybe she was the one who should’ve gone into the acting trade. “I would never want you to hurt yourself. How can you even ask that?”

  “You traded my soul for success.”

  There was a long pause. I took advantage of her silence to put on a fresh pair of black jeans. She stayed quiet so long I got my shirt tucked in and the jeans zipped and buttoned before she opened her mouth again.

  “What else was I going to use?” she said in a small voice.

  “You could have left the whole thing alone.” Hell, she could have thought to ask me if I even wanted what she was after. It was my potential career, but she’d never even tried to find out if I wanted to be a star. Let alone if I thought selling my immortal soul for success would be a good trade.

  “You’re the most successful young actor in Hollywood,” she said. “The whole world loves you.”

  “And none of it came to me naturally. It doesn’t really belong to me. It’s all because of your precious Deal.”

  “That isn’t true. You’re incredibly talented, Gage. You were always so good-looking and talented. Gifted.”

  I shoved my feet into black leather boots. “So why make The Deal at all then? The way you’re talking, we didn’t need it.”

  “Because success in Hollywood isn’t just about looks and talent; it’s about who you know. We didn’t know anyone. We needed an advantage.”

  “Right. An advantage. Listen, Mom, I really have to go. I’m picking up Jer for the party.”

  She heaved a theatrical sigh. “Okay. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  I hung up with relief. Conversation done. It had gone on a bit longer than I’d wanted, but a victory nonetheless. Now I could go out, have a good time without her nagging voice in my ear.

  The be-careful shit was ridiculous. There was nothing to be careful about because nothing had changed about The Deal. My life was exactly the same as it had been yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I rubbed at it in irritation. It felt hot in here, like the AC needed to be turned up. A skinny worm of unease wriggled its way up my spine.

  I rubbed my neck again. This was bullshit. My mom and her drunken worries were just messing with my head. Tonight I had work to do, and fun to enjoy afterward, and I was going to make the most of both.

  Chapter 2

  The Cabin

  Nova:

  My mom tilted her head to the side and gave me one of those Mom Looks. You know the kind. The ones that say, without words, that you’re making a mistake and if you were a reasonable human being you’d listen to her wise motherly advice, but she knows you’re going to do what you want regardless and she’s trying to be patient with you.

  That look used to work on me. I’d cave and do whatever it was she wanted of me just to get her to quit staring at me.

  She’d been giving me the look off and on the whole way from Portland. Hours of it. Wonderful, fun-filled hours of mom-induced guilt. Now we were finally here and she was apparently launching a last-ditch campaign to get me to change my mind about my plans for my near-future.

  Nope. Her scheming wasn’t going to work. All I had to do was hold out in the face of the guilt-shame cocktail she was trying to serve me until she got tired and went home by herself.

  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, my gaze fixed on the front door of our family cabin. The log walls looked golden in the afternoon sun, the steeply pitched green metal roof blending in with the thick growth of Douglas firs that surrounded it. My mood lifted just looking at it, remembering all the happy summer vacations spent here during my childhood.

  “We’re here,” I said, completely unnecessarily.

  “I noticed.”

  “I’m going in.”

  She put her hand on my forearm. “Honey, are you sure you want to do this? You’re going to be up here all alone.”

  “I’m sure, Mom,” I said, with what I hoped was a confident smile.

  She sighed and shook her head, a slow single shake. That was another of her heavy-hitters. The sigh. Accompanied by that sad, I’m worried and disappointed look, it used to floor me every time.

  Honestly, I didn’t know if this cabin thing would work out for me. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe I’d change my mind in a few days or weeks and come home again with my tail between my legs. But I wouldn’t find out if I didn’t try, and I wanted to know if I could manage by myself.

  Plus it was quiet up here. No-one I knew lived in the tiny nearby town of Subalpine and my ex-fiancé disliked what he called “redneck country” intensely. There would be no awkward run-ins here.

  I opened my door. “Are you coming?”

  “Nova—”

  “Mom, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” The air outside the car smelled sweet, the resinous scent of evergreens mixed with ripe berries and a hint of woodsmoke, like summer picnics and Christmas rolled into one. I got out, just to forestall more argument.

  But my mom was tougher than that. She popped out of the passenger side of the car, ready for battle. “You’ve never lived on your own. I don’t think camping out up here is a good way to start.”

  Good grief, the cabin had running water and electricity. It’s not like I’d be living in a tent.

  “Camping out? Come on, we’ve got one of the best cabins in the area.” I grinned at her and dangled the cabin keys from my fingers. “It’ll be great. Lots of fresh air.”

  “But what will you do up here all by yourself? You’ll be lonely. And you’re going to fall behind on your studies. You don’t want to do that to yourself, do you?”

  I wasn’t going to be lonely. I liked solitude and I’d brought some art supplies so I could work, do some landscape sketches and nature studies. We’d already discussed this, about five hundred times. Why she felt the need to drag me over the coals again was beyond me. I guess she just couldn’t believe I wouldn’t fold, like I had all those other times.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” she said hopefully. “We can drive back home right now. Or we can stay the night and go home in the morning. Your dad won’t mind, and the girls will be thrilled.”

  My little sisters hadn’t wanted me to do this either. Nobody did, except me. But nobody else had gone through what I had, either, and it wasn’t their decision to make. Nobody else in the family was re-evaluating their whole life and reason for being. Not that I’m over-dramatic or anything.

  “It’s not like I’m moving to Mars,” I said, going around to the trunk for my bags. “I have a phone. You guys can come up some weekends. I’ll be home for holidays. It’ll be fine.”

  My mom just shook her head. “I know you had a bad spring term, but that’s no reason to hide out here like a hermit. There’s no reason to jeopardize your future just because your boyfriend was a jerk.”

  Hauling my big, black suitcase out of the trunk, I turned toward the cabin. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m not going to argue with you about it. So unless you’re not going to let me stay here after all, I’m going in.”

  They’d offered me the cabin when I’d proposed moving across the country. Apparently they’d rather have me in the family cabin, even if it was tucked away in the Cascade Mountains, than working my way across the country taking random waitressing jobs here and there and then moving on. That had been my first choice.

  I wasn’t very outgoing, so I don’t know if the waitressing idea was really workable. But I’d had to get away. From everything.

  When I’d walked in on my fiancé Barry and my so-called best friend Skylar doing the nasty in the living room of the apartment I shared with her, my world had turned inside-out in one second flat. Just the time it took me to
comprehend what I was seeing. That moment changed everything. Made me question everything.

  Was it me? Was I not enough woman for him? Was I too ugly, too fat, too thin, too shy, too brainy? What? Or was he just a weak-willed, cheating shit?

  And Skylar—my best friend. How could she do it to me? It’s not like she couldn’t get her own guy; she had them following her around, dates every weekend. She had more guys than she knew what to do with and could have loaned out a few to her single friends. But no—she had to go after my fiancé.

  I’d thought I knew them, that I knew myself. But I hadn’t. And now I wasn’t sure of anything, except that I had to get away. I’d turned into a total misanthropist, a hater of humankind. The only places that appealed to me were on top of mountains or maybe at the bottom of the ocean. Yeah. The ocean floor would be nice and quiet.

  Peaceful. Completely free of cheating boyfriends and traitorous BFFs and people who thought they knew what I wanted better than I did. Only I didn’t have access to any ocean-bottom retreats; what I did have was permission to use this old cabin.

  I stuck the key in the lock and wiggled it. The knob was dusty. A thick layer of dust also lay on the nearby kitchen windowsill. Cobwebs festooned the lintel and the panes of glass in the window. Under the dirt, I could see the green paint flaking in a few places.

  “Ugh,” my mom said. “It’s filthy.”

  “We haven’t come up here for a long time.” I opened the door to an interior covered in more dust, a thick yet fluffy layer of grunge that coated everything. The air smelled stale. Dead flies had sprinkled their tiny corpses throughout the dust, like raisins in a disgusting sort of raisin bran.

  “Nova, you’re not going to be happy here.” She curled her lip as she stared at the floor. She’d dressed to help me move in, but her idea of casual clothes was freshly pressed dark-wash jeans and glossy new ballet flats, not the ratty sweats and old running shoes I’d chosen.

  I glanced at her as I carted my suitcase into the living room. “Sure I will.”

  The truth was, I had no idea whether staying at the cabin would make me feel better or give me any clearer an understanding of myself. But I’d made up my mind and I wasn’t changing it. Not until I’d given being on my own a shot. “Think of it like a retreat.”