Free Devious Minds by KF Germaine

I started off in Spanish). “I was just thinking about—”
    “About me?” he teased.
    I was pretty sure my vagina dropped through the stage and into the club cellar. Nope, I see it now. It’s running down the street, screaming, “Danger” in Mystikal’s voice . A feeling akin to death washed over me, and Nick frowned.
    “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” He lifted a hand to my forehead, pressing it against my skin. “No fever.”
    Snap out of it, Sydney.
    “Oh, sorry, I’m fine. Trying to think up a costume for next week. Rick threatened to call Child Protective Services if I showed up looking like a prepubescent boy.”
    Oh God, now he’s going to agree with Rick and forever see me as a George.
    He laughed. “Don’t worry about Rick. He’s been singing your praises for the last week. He doesn’t care what you wear. So you’re working on Halloween?”
    I nodded and slipped on my headset, pulling up the first track.
    “Okay, cool. Well, I’m working until ten. Then I’m going out to some bars with friends. Too bad I can’t take you along.”
    I cleared my throat. “That’s my birthday,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “I’ll be twenty-one.”
    Nick’s lips curled up in a faint smile. “No, shit. When’s your set over?”
    “Not ‘til eleven. I told Rick I wanted a few hours to celebrate the end of my sobriety. So I arranged pre-mixes for the rest of the night.”
    “Awesome. I’ll wait for you to get off.”
    My head was spinning on the mega-load wash cycle, just churning and churning. Nick just stood next to me, staring, and I was staring back. After a few seconds, he glanced over to the bar where the first patron was waiting on a drink.
    “Okay, or maybe another time?” He jumped off the stage and walked across to the bar.
    What the hell am I thinking? I must have looked like a moron.
    Grabbing the mic, I belted, “Yes,” through the speakers.
    Nick did a nice fist pump in the air, telling me he got the message. It reminded me of Judd Nelson on the Breakfast Club —when he’s walking across the field and he’s like Yes, Molly Ringwald wants me, and F-you high school .
    God, I wish I had that song right now.

Chapter Twelve

     
     
    “ C oach? You wanted to see me?” I sank down in the leather club chair in his office.
    A man of few words, it was never a good sign when Coach asked you in for a chat. With a quick nod, he left his desk and closed the office door. He closed the office door! Okay, now this was a terrible sign.
    Instead of sitting behind the desk, he perched on the edge and picked up a worn-out football, twirling it distractedly from hand to hand. “You know I want to see you succeed, right, Peters?” he said grimly.
    “Of course, Coach.” Just get to the point. I was sweating over my sweat.
    A disapproving frown slipped onto his face. “I overheard the other boys saying they ran into Nick Sharbus the other day. That you saw him first at some club. Are you two hanging out?”
    “No.”
    “Good.” He dropped the ball and picked up our playbook, heading for his desk chair. “You can go now.”
    Didn’t have to tell me twice. I shot up out of the chair and headed for the door.
    “Peters.”
    Before I could turn the handle, I swung back around.
    “Nobody hangs out with Nick Sharbus. Ever. Do you understand me, son?”
    I nodded and opened the door, but something made me turn around. “Why?”
    “Legally, I can’t say.” He propped his feet on the desk. “You got a sister, Peters?”
    “No. Two older brothers, Jason and Elliott.” I searched his wrinkled face for an answer to my question, but in Coach fashion, his face was as calm as a puddle of water—unless you messed up a play. Then it was lava.
    “That’s good.” Coach opened his playbook and waved me out the door.
    Coach’s vague answer was impossible to knock from my mind. Asking if I had a sister. What was he getting at? Coach had a sister. I saw her once, not cute, and she was old.