SMILE HOSTAGE REFUGE [prelude]
Title: Smile Hostage Refuge
Pairing: Craig Mabbitt & Max Green
Rating: R
POV: Craig's
Summary: Hands down, "foul play" and "signs of a struggle" are the most terrifying words I have ever heard.
Disclaimer: Fake.
By the time I arrive, it’s far too late - or so they tell me. ‘They’ being the FBI and crime scene investigators currently picking gingerly through my bassist’s thrashed flat in metro Las Vegas. When I go to collapse on his old, moth-eaten couch, half of them rush at me and stress (threaten) not to disturb the evidence.
And then they dismiss me.
So now I’m loitering in the miniscule front yard, arms crossed and faced by the head officer, whose name I can’t recall for the life of me (despite having been introduced just five minutes prior). The man is struggling to keep a professional expression, but I can see his sympathy through the passage of his eyes and it only drives me deeper into despair.
“There’s nothing you could have done,” he says in a weak attempt to pacify me.
But I’m not so sure. I don’t know if I could have prevented... this, but -
“They’re working on a timeline, now.”
“So it’s for sure.”
“Abduction.” The word hangs stiffly in the air and I am acutely aware of the sun burning the skin on the back of my neck. I curse softly under my breath and drag my hands down my face.
He encourages me to call the rest of my “mates” and tell them to meet up with us at the station for questioning.
::
“I’m sorry, what?”
Officer Greg Stenson gives vent to a sigh. “Enemies. Is there anyone who could benefit from Max’s disappearance?”
I shake my head at once, tugging agitatedly at a piece of hair that’s framing my face. “No way.”
To my right, Robert raises an eyebrow. “Man, come on. Max can run his mouth like no one’s fucking business. Don’t get me wrong, ‘cause he gets so soggy when it comes to the fans. He just doesn’t put up with bullshit, you know?”
He’s handling the situation better than expected, but then again, I was so upset and in such disarray that I don’t think I actually told them much of anything. He’s probably way skeptical.
Beside him, Bryan is inattentive and unfocused.
“Accurate information is appreciated. I realize this is hard for all of you, but we’re doing everything we can to find your friend.”
“Okay,” I relent, trying to calm myself. I stare at the table top for a moment, my nose stinging and my hands clenching on their own accord. The only thing going through my mind is that “foul play” and “signs of a struggle” are the fucking most terrifying words I’ve ever heard.
Stenson withdraws a page from his folder, running his eyes over it briefly. “I understand that the previous singer of your band was arrested under charges of battery, narcotics abuse, and parol violation?”
“Ronnie, yeah,” Robert volunteers easily, but I can hear the wince in his voice; I don’t think this will ever cease to be a sensitive subject. “He won’t be out until December, so.”
“You don’t believe that he may have outside connections?”
And it’s like someone has pressed a giant pause button, because no one seems able to move or form words. Rob’s mouth is agape and Bryan’s eyes are narrowed with disbelief, like neither of them can believe the audacity of what was just hinted.
At this time (and thank God), we’re interrupted by a a woman in uniform, who pokes her head in through the door and clears her throat. “Is there a contact number I can use to inform any family? Parents, siblings?” Her voice is gentle.
“I’ve got his mom’s.” Robert reaches for his Sidekick, snapping back into motion. It’s jerky.
I shoot him a questioning look.
“Max asked me to keep it on file, just to be safe.” He reads the digits aloud and then says, “She’s back in Ohio.”
Stenson waits until she leaves before leaning over the table and lacing his fingers together, eyes carefully blank. “Did Max expect something to happen to him?’
“Not at all, man. He’s just been through some shit times.”
He offers nothing more.
“Right. Were Max and Ronnie close?”
“Best friends,” Bryan says, raising his voice for the first time. “But things went downhill pretty fast - the story is all over the internet, if...”
“That’s fine, boys. I’m going to check up on the case progress and see if we have any leads yet. I’ll contact you if anything comes up.”
I can’t even imagine the disheartened look on all of ours faces. He says, “We’ll do our best.”
::
“We should call Joey,” I murmur when we’re finally alone in the hall. “I don’t think we’ll be making Warped this year.”
“Dude,” Rob grits, taking me by the shoulders. “Have you tried his cell? Lets just not rush into things, okay, because he could have easily just passed out somewhere, right? All this ‘missing person’ stuff is serious business.”
I look down, and my hair falls into my eyes. I put every ounce of concentration into keeping my voice steady, but it shakes nonetheless. “There was blood. At his house.”
Bryan makes what I assume to be an unintentional noise of anguish, and turns his back on us, as though he can’t bear to hear the rest of the conversation. Rob’s fingers tighten, and my gaze snaps up to lock with his.
“There wasn’t much,” I hasten to explain. “They don’t think...”
“So he’s alive.”
I hum in agreement. Bryan husks, “You don’t think Ronnie had anything to do with it, do you?”
Robert’s ‘no’ clashes nastily with my ‘yes.’
::
Outside, just as I’m about to climb into his car, Bryan throws himself in my arms and grabs at my jacket, hugging me desperately. I embrace him just as hard, shutting my eyes fiercely as Robert watches on, tall and silent and forlorn.
“Why Max?” The question is muffled against my chest. I have no answer.
TBC
next chapter
Pairing: Craig Mabbitt & Max Green
Rating: R
POV: Craig's
Summary: Hands down, "foul play" and "signs of a struggle" are the most terrifying words I have ever heard.
Disclaimer: Fake.
By the time I arrive, it’s far too late - or so they tell me. ‘They’ being the FBI and crime scene investigators currently picking gingerly through my bassist’s thrashed flat in metro Las Vegas. When I go to collapse on his old, moth-eaten couch, half of them rush at me and stress (threaten) not to disturb the evidence.
And then they dismiss me.
So now I’m loitering in the miniscule front yard, arms crossed and faced by the head officer, whose name I can’t recall for the life of me (despite having been introduced just five minutes prior). The man is struggling to keep a professional expression, but I can see his sympathy through the passage of his eyes and it only drives me deeper into despair.
“There’s nothing you could have done,” he says in a weak attempt to pacify me.
But I’m not so sure. I don’t know if I could have prevented... this, but -
“They’re working on a timeline, now.”
“So it’s for sure.”
“Abduction.” The word hangs stiffly in the air and I am acutely aware of the sun burning the skin on the back of my neck. I curse softly under my breath and drag my hands down my face.
He encourages me to call the rest of my “mates” and tell them to meet up with us at the station for questioning.
::
“I’m sorry, what?”
Officer Greg Stenson gives vent to a sigh. “Enemies. Is there anyone who could benefit from Max’s disappearance?”
I shake my head at once, tugging agitatedly at a piece of hair that’s framing my face. “No way.”
To my right, Robert raises an eyebrow. “Man, come on. Max can run his mouth like no one’s fucking business. Don’t get me wrong, ‘cause he gets so soggy when it comes to the fans. He just doesn’t put up with bullshit, you know?”
He’s handling the situation better than expected, but then again, I was so upset and in such disarray that I don’t think I actually told them much of anything. He’s probably way skeptical.
Beside him, Bryan is inattentive and unfocused.
“Accurate information is appreciated. I realize this is hard for all of you, but we’re doing everything we can to find your friend.”
“Okay,” I relent, trying to calm myself. I stare at the table top for a moment, my nose stinging and my hands clenching on their own accord. The only thing going through my mind is that “foul play” and “signs of a struggle” are the fucking most terrifying words I’ve ever heard.
Stenson withdraws a page from his folder, running his eyes over it briefly. “I understand that the previous singer of your band was arrested under charges of battery, narcotics abuse, and parol violation?”
“Ronnie, yeah,” Robert volunteers easily, but I can hear the wince in his voice; I don’t think this will ever cease to be a sensitive subject. “He won’t be out until December, so.”
“You don’t believe that he may have outside connections?”
And it’s like someone has pressed a giant pause button, because no one seems able to move or form words. Rob’s mouth is agape and Bryan’s eyes are narrowed with disbelief, like neither of them can believe the audacity of what was just hinted.
At this time (and thank God), we’re interrupted by a a woman in uniform, who pokes her head in through the door and clears her throat. “Is there a contact number I can use to inform any family? Parents, siblings?” Her voice is gentle.
“I’ve got his mom’s.” Robert reaches for his Sidekick, snapping back into motion. It’s jerky.
I shoot him a questioning look.
“Max asked me to keep it on file, just to be safe.” He reads the digits aloud and then says, “She’s back in Ohio.”
Stenson waits until she leaves before leaning over the table and lacing his fingers together, eyes carefully blank. “Did Max expect something to happen to him?’
“Not at all, man. He’s just been through some shit times.”
He offers nothing more.
“Right. Were Max and Ronnie close?”
“Best friends,” Bryan says, raising his voice for the first time. “But things went downhill pretty fast - the story is all over the internet, if...”
“That’s fine, boys. I’m going to check up on the case progress and see if we have any leads yet. I’ll contact you if anything comes up.”
I can’t even imagine the disheartened look on all of ours faces. He says, “We’ll do our best.”
::
“We should call Joey,” I murmur when we’re finally alone in the hall. “I don’t think we’ll be making Warped this year.”
“Dude,” Rob grits, taking me by the shoulders. “Have you tried his cell? Lets just not rush into things, okay, because he could have easily just passed out somewhere, right? All this ‘missing person’ stuff is serious business.”
I look down, and my hair falls into my eyes. I put every ounce of concentration into keeping my voice steady, but it shakes nonetheless. “There was blood. At his house.”
Bryan makes what I assume to be an unintentional noise of anguish, and turns his back on us, as though he can’t bear to hear the rest of the conversation. Rob’s fingers tighten, and my gaze snaps up to lock with his.
“There wasn’t much,” I hasten to explain. “They don’t think...”
“So he’s alive.”
I hum in agreement. Bryan husks, “You don’t think Ronnie had anything to do with it, do you?”
Robert’s ‘no’ clashes nastily with my ‘yes.’
::
Outside, just as I’m about to climb into his car, Bryan throws himself in my arms and grabs at my jacket, hugging me desperately. I embrace him just as hard, shutting my eyes fiercely as Robert watches on, tall and silent and forlorn.
“Why Max?” The question is muffled against my chest. I have no answer.
TBC
next chapter