Page 68 of Steady Stroke
On Fading Daze’s fourth song choice, his phone buzzed with a text.
Melody:Need help. No one else to ask. Please.
The second popped up as he was trying to digest the first—an address and a room number.
Concern and adrenaline made typing out a reply a little hard:On my way. Stay put and be safe.
“Linc? What’s wrong?” Emmett asked.
“I’m not sure. A friend needs me.”
Van was suddenly in his face, leaning so far across the bar he practically lay on top of it. “Which friend?”
The ferocity in his tone made Lincoln say it. “Melody. She said she needs help.”
“Wait for me.”
Van bolted out from behind the bar, seeking out Beatrice in the crowd. Something about Van’s intense reaction made Lincoln stay put until Van returned, keys in hand. Emmett followed them without a word, and their trio tumbled into Van’s sports car.
The drive north was frustrating as hell, given beach traffic on a Saturday night. Lincoln resisted the constant urge to call Melody, but she hadn’t called him. Only texted. He didn’t want to accidentally make a situation worse. The idea of her being in a bad situation made his skin feel too tight.
The address was a hotel, but not the fancy high-rises that tourists paid a pretty penny to stay in. It was an older motel tucked into a corner of those high-rises, the cheap kind that tended to house locals or the summer workforce. The parking lot was weedy and needed relining. Van grabbed a tire iron out of his trunk before leading the charge up the exterior stairs to room 206.
Lincoln knocked. “Melody? It’s Lincoln.” A shadow movednear the front window curtain. “I’m here with Van and Emmett. Let us in, honey.”
The distinct sound of a chain lock sliding came a moment before a deadbolt switched back. She didn’t open the door, though. Lincoln did, pushing it slowly inward. Melody was climbing back under the covers of her queen bed, hiding herself away. Concern overriding his sense of safety, Lincoln barged inside.
“What happened?” He knelt on the bed next to her shaking lump, but didn’t touch her. “Mel, talk to me, okay?”
“I’m so stupid.” The words came out on a choked sob. “So stupid. Fuck.”
Lincoln looked over his shoulder, completely at a loss. Van, however, looked equal parts devastated and furious. He put the tire iron down on a messy dresser, then approached the bed from the other side.
“Melody, baby, it’s Van. Listen to me, you’re not stupid. You are not.”
“Yes, I am.” She sat up, throwing off the blanket so fast Lincoln had to dodge her fist. Her hair had probably been styled, but was messy and falling out of its pins. Eye makeup streaked one cheek, and she held a white cloth against her left. A white and red cloth. Hints of a bruise darkened that eye, and her blouse was ripped.
Rage coiled hot and tight in Lincoln’s belly. “Who did this?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She clutched at her torn shirt with her free hand. “I was so stupid. I knew better. No cars with strangers.”
“No cars with—did your date attack you?” Her nod only stoked the fire of his anger. “Where is he?”
“Who cares? He dumped me here andleft.”
Van nudged closer and angled to catch her attention. “Melody, what happened?”
She choked on a sob. “It was all so great at first. We had a nice dinner and talked. Reallytalked. We got along really well, so we took a walk on the beach. It was so pretty.” Her face pinched. “Back in his car we started kissing. I told him I didn’t have sex on the first date, and he said he was cool with that. I should’ve asked him to take me home, but he was such a good kisser.” She blew out sharply through her nose. “After a while he tried pushing my face into his crotch, and I said no.”
Lincoln clutched the bedspread so he didn’t reach out and break something.
Some of Melody’s grief was rearranging into anger. “He called me a tease, said dinner and driving out here to meet me was worth a blow job. I tried to get out of the car and he grabbed me. Ripped my shirt. Then the bastard shoved his hand up my skirt and said he always wanted to make it with a she-male. I smacked the prick, and then he backhanded me.”
Van snarled.
“He said what?” Lincoln asked, perfectly dumbfounded.
Melody held eye contact with Van briefly, who apparently knew what Melody was about to tell him. “I’m trans.”
