It took her close to an hour to watch all five of the official videos that were posted, and another two hours to go through the fan-posted ones.
When she finished, she felt like she was no closer to an answer than when she’d started.
She clicked over to their Facebook page.
It was the first post on their Wall that made her stop, her fingers hovering over her mouse.
They were playing again. Tomorrow night in Tacoma at another all-ages club.
The decision was easy: She was going. And she was taking someone with her, although not Rafe or Sam. This time she’d be taking someone from a different team.
When the phone was picked up on the other end, Violet grinned. “Hey, remember when you said you wanted to be my sidekick?”
Violet tugged at her black shirt, admiring the hot-pink skull that dripped down the front of it. It wasn’t bad to look at, but it stretched too tight across her chest, like she was wearing a child’s size version. “We look ridiculous, Chels.”
“Are you kidding me? We look awesome! I might just make this my regular style.” She stood behind Violet at the mirror, and Violet glanced back at her, appraising Chelsea’s black eyeliner and combat boots. Somehow Chelsea managed to make the look work, and her toned legs looked hot in the fishnet tights, even if her skirt was entirely too short. The leather bands on her wrists were a nice touch too.
Violet looked back at herself, studying the makeup Chelsea had painstakingly applied on her to go with the outfit.
Smoky eyes, Chelsea had called them.
Whore-y eyes, Violet had joked, staring at the raccoon effect Chelsea had created.
“Besides, we can’t just walk in there in our regular clothes . . . we need to try and blend. Otherwise everyone’ll know we’re there for clues,” Chelsea countered.
“Clues?” Violet asked, unclasping the spiderweb necklace, deciding it was a bit much. “This isn’t an episode of Scooby-Doo. We’re not there to unmask the ghost of Old Man Wheezer or find out who’s haunting the abandoned amusement park. This is serious.”
Chelsea puckered her black lips, her reflection staring back at Violet indignantly. “And I’m taking it seriously. Dude, stop worrying. I’ve got this.”
“I hope you’re right. Besides, I doubt we’ll turn up anything anyway. I just didn’t want to go alone.”
Chelsea turned on the chunky heel of her boot, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah . . . about that . . .”
Violet frowned, not liking her friend’s tone, or the implication that she was withholding something. “About what, Chels?”
“That thing about not wanting to go alone . . .” The end of her sentence lilted up, almost as if she were afraid to finish it.
Violet’s face flushed and she could feel her cheeks turning red. “Who? Who did you tell? Did you invite someone to come with us?”
Chelsea bit her lip, wincing dramatically. “Well . . . yes and no. I mean, yes, I told someone. And, no, I didn’t, technically, invite him.” She grimaced as she rushed through her last words. “But he is coming. He insisted.”
Violet threw her hands in the air. “Oh my god, spit it out already! Who then?”
“Rafe,” Chelsea admitted guiltily. “It wasn’t my fault really. I thought . . . since he knew . . . it was no big deal. So I was telling him about the band, and he got all weird about it, and asked me how I knew about them. Then he made me tell him when we were going, and he . . .” She lifted her shoulders, trying to look innocent, but looking anything but. “He invited himself.”
“Geez, Chels,” Violet groaned. So much for her plan of making Chelsea her sidekick, she silently mocked herself. “I knew you liked him, but I thought you got that I didn’t want anyone else to know. That was kinda the point here.”
Chelsea sighed, an overly loud and theatrical sound. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it matters whether I like him or not,” Chelsea said, her expression turning momentarily serious. She didn’t look accusatory, or even dejected, just matter-of-fact when she said it. “I think we both know who Rafe likes.”
Violet blinked as she faced her friend, wondering how she’d known. She wanted to deny what she knew Chelsea was saying—to say that she hadn’t noticed Rafe’s feelings toward her—but somehow she couldn’t muster up the lie, no matter how hard she tried. She’d worked too hard to be honest with Chelsea.
Before she could come up with anything, there was a knocking at her bedroom door, three quick raps that Violet would recognize anywhere. Her eyes widened as she stared at Chelsea.
“Are you kidding me? Jay too?” she asked Chelsea, before turning to the door.
Chelsea made a face as she nodded. “Rafe told him.”
Violet stomped down the front steps that led to her driveway as she glared at the two boys who were waiting for her and Chelsea. “Since when are you two working against me?” She ignored the fact that they were both studying her a little too intently, taking in her tight jeans and even tighter top. She suddenly felt very exposed, ridiculous even. Like she’d dressed up for Halloween when no one else had. “I think I liked it better when you hated each other.”
“We still do,” Rafe quipped, flashing a grin in Jay’s direction. “We’re just trying to keep you from getting yourselves killed. You have no idea if you’ll run into trouble down there.”
“What are you talking about, killed? All we’re doing is going out for a girls’ night!” She draped her arm around Chelsea’s shoulder. “Right, Chels?”