The Beats In Rift

Prologue, chapter 1 &2

Prologue: Meadow

Friend request from Justin Jacobs

Accept decline

NO WAY! 'HE is already Facebook requesting? That's surprising."

I look up from the laptop into the bloodshot eyes of my best friend leaning over my shoulder, her minty breath tickling the skin on my cheek.

"So," she continues, "what was he like?"

I slam the laptop closed and stand. "I need to shower." My voice is strained, still suffering from the drinking and singing (moaning) of the night before.

"Oh come on, Meds. I got so drunk I stuck my tongue down that guitarist's throat then threw up on his shoes. I need to live hot, dirty, sex through you."

I turn to my best friend, holding back a laugh at her attire; one sock, her brother's basketball shorts rolled a million times at the waist, and her bra. "He was a deserter like always."

Her brow furrows and she sips from the cup she's holding. "Like always? I don't understand. Didn't you just meet him last night?"

"It's a long, complicated story, Crystal. I'm tired, hung over and I need to ice my knuckles."

She walks towards me, handing me her cup. I sip at the strong coffee, sucking it into my mouth like I'll never be given the chance again.

Her eyes widen at my greed for caffeine. "You want me to start a drip?" she quips with a raised eyebrow.

I squint my eyes and flip her the bird.

"We haven't got to check out until two, Meds. Spill your fucking shit, now."

Chapter 1

*****Meadow 11 years earlier AGE 13******

GET YOUR BAG, Meadow. I can't be late again," my Mom calls through the door to my small bedroom in our dingy two-bedroom home.

"I'm ready," I call back, picking up my backpack. I unlock the latch on my door and peek my head out to see my Mom standing by the front door, waiting. She's dressed in her usual work wear; a denim skirt showing way too much leg and a thin black t-shirt with Drew's Bar splashed across her large chest, the ink cracking from the strain. Her outfit is finished off with high-heeled pumps that are sure to leave her with blisters by the end of her shift.

I hate the summer vacation. When school let out last year I was left at home while she worked, and her 'then' boyfriend came home early one day, drunk, and decided to knock me around when I refused to make his lunch, leaving me with a broken arm and a headache for Mom when she was questioned by the nurse after she lied and told them I tripped and fell. So this year I've been dragged to work with her so I can't get into "anymore" trouble.

I tiptoe down the narrow hall across the stained, brown carpet. Mom rolls her eyes at me. "He's already left, Med. Stop being dramatic."

Her 'now' boyfriend is just as bad as her last, if not worse. He has roaming eyes and occasionally roaming hands. He's subtle about the way he pats my ass to get me to move out of his way, or when he pulls the neck of my blouse and looks at my chest, telling my Mom I should be wearing a bra by now.