Beneath the Stain - Part 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

it,” Grant said. “Can we play it tonight?”
    Mackey smiled and looked at his hands before he could flush. “I don’t have the band set up for it—”
    “You should play it!” Tony said. “That can be your last song. It’ll get everyone into slow dancing again.”
    “The faggot’s right,” Kell grunted, and the moment shattered.
    “Don’t call him that,” Mackey snarled, taking his notebook from Tony. “He’s done nothing but help us and you’re being a dick.”
    Kell rolled his eyes. “What ever , Mackey. See if you get to play your dumb song now!”
    “Don’t be an asshole,” Grant intoned, and Kell, who lived and died by Grant’s opinion, hunched his shoulders and grunted.
    “You can call me what you want,” Tony said, after shooting Mackey a grateful look. “But that don’t change that if you don’t let Mackey shine a little, you’ll be cutting your band off at the balls.”
    With that he turned around and headed for the door. “I’m sorry, Mackey. You guys gotta go so I can lock up, okay?”
    Mackey nodded. While he was putting his guitar in the case and grabbing his notebook, Grant walked over to Tony and shook his hand.
    “Don’t mind Kell—he’s a dick. We appreciate the help with the equipment and the setup.”
    Tony nodded. “Thanks. It was worth it to watch Mackey write a song.”
    Grant smiled, and Mackey looked up to catch his gaze. “You got lost in his words, didn’t you.” And for a moment, it was the two of them alone. I got lost in your eyes.
    “Jesus, Grant, stop dicking around with—” Kell tossed a glare over his shoulder at Mackey, like Mackey was forcing him to do something. “—with Tony , and let’s go.”
    Mackey trotted toward the big heavy double door and slid by Tony after Grant and Kell. As he cleared the door, Tony stopped him with a touch on the shoulder.
    “Grant has a girlfriend, doesn’t he?”
    Mackey turned away. “Some shit’s private,” he muttered.
    “Yeah,” Tony said under his breath. “But if you ever want to talk—”
    Mackey shook his head and, conscious of Kell striding toward Grant’s minivan, disentangled himself and hustled to keep up. “See ya tonight. Have fun with the girls,” he said, and he meant it sincerely.
    He felt bad when Tony winced, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about that, was there?
     
     
    H ALF AN hour before they were supposed to leave, Mackey looked in the mirror, horrified.
    “Jesus Christ, Mom—”
    “McKay James Sanders, don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain!”
    Mackey’s hair was plain sandy brown. Was plain sandy brown. His mom had streaked it gently, cut his bangs, cut the sides of it around his face. He looked like… like….
    “I have no idea who I look like,” he said. “It’s someone I saw in a television show once—what the hell did you do to me!” He had gray eyes, big ones, framed with dark lashes, and with that haircut, his eyes looked even bigger, his nose more turned up, and his chin sharper. He was already smaller than most everybody else in his grade still , but now, he looked like some sort of stuffed animal or Barbie or something.
    His mom grinned and nodded. “You look like a ’70s pop star, Mackey. With that getup that Grant gave you, it’ll be perfect. Trust me.”
    Mackey grimaced at his mother. All he’d said was that his hair was getting in his eyes and he wished he had time to cut it before they played. That was all. And their mom, who had to find a babysitter for Cheever because she worked that night, had suddenly brightened.
    “I can help!” she said, her voice full of wonder. “I can help. I trained to be a hairstylist between you and Cheever. I can fix that!”
    “Mom?”
    Their mom was young—Mackey knew that objectively, although it didn’t really settle in for many years to come that if she was thirty-four and Kell was eighteen, she would have been Jeff’s age when she was tossed out of the house. But now, getting excited about