Ball Peen Hammer Read Free Page A

four in the other car who’d apparently looked down to reply to a text as he approached our intersection—died at the scene.
    “So, hey, I gotta go,” I say. “Be sure to send me Dax’s phone number. I’ll call him to work out the terms of my sexual servitude.”
    “Will do. I love you lots and lots, Tootsie Pop.”
    “I love you, too, Banana Cream Pie. Thanks again.” 
     

Chapter 2
    Maddy
     
    “Dax,” a male voice answers.
    Oh, jeez. His voice is as sexy as the rest of him. Or maybe I’m just projecting extreme vocal sexiness onto him, based on the seven YouTube videos of him I just watched, one after the other, immediately before placing this call.
    “Uh, hi, Dax?” I say. “This is Madelyn Milliken?” Oh man, my voice is betraying the racing of my heart. “Hannah’s sister?” I continue.
    “Oh, yeah, hey.”
    “My sister told me to give you a call about the parking spot?” Shoot. I’m finishing every sentence with a question mark. I hate it when I do that. I take a deep breath. “My sister told me to call you?” Shoot. I did it again. Gah.
    “Yeah, Hannah said you need to have your car during the school year so you can work on weekends.”
    “Yeah, tuition and books is kind of wiping me out?” Shit. Another question mark.
    “Well, you can totally use my parking spot,” Dax says. “I’ve got a motorcycle, so I don’t need the second spot assigned to our apartment.”
    “Thank you?” Goddammit. “Thank you?” Goddammit! “Thank you!”
    “You’re welcome!” Dax shouts, mimicking the exuberant tone of my last offering. “Glad to help out. Kat’s always talking about how much she loves Hannah Banana Montana Milliken, so I figure any sister of Hannah’s is a sister of mine.”
    Well, damn, that’s gotta be a new record for me. “Thank you so much, Dax!” I sing out, trying my damnedest not to sound the least bit crestfallen that I’ve just been dropkicked into the frickin’ sister zone.
    “So you’re transferring to UCLA?” Dax says, apparently unaware of my current state of disappointment.
    “Yeah?” I reply.
    “Where from?”
    “U Dub?”
    “I was studying music at Seattle U until last year.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Dropped out when the band got signed.”
    “Congratulations on that, by the way.” Phew, no question mark that time.
    “Thanks. So Hannah said you’re going to film school—that you won the top prize at some film festival last year?”
    “Yeah?” I say. Fuck a duck—the question mark is back! “ Yes ,” I correct myself. “ I did .”
    Dax pauses, apparently waiting for me to elaborate on that statement, but he’s gonna have to wait all day. I feel like my tongue is tied into knots along with my stomach.
    “Okay, well, that’s cool,” Dax finally says. “So, hey, I’m thinking, if it’s cool with you, my band could use a promo video—you know, something to kind of introduce us to the world when the album comes out. I’m thinking maybe some performance stuff, maybe some behind the scene stuff? Nothing too long or fancy, pretty basic. I’m hoping the label’s gonna do some stuff at release time, but I don’t wanna count on it, you know? And, even so, every little bit helps to break a new band these days, even if you’re signed to a badass label.” Dax exhales a deep breath that speaks volumes about the pressure he must be feeling.
    “I’d be thrilled to help you, Dax,” I chirp. “I absolutely love music and musicians.” Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that. I clear my throat. “I’d be happy to do whatever I can to help you. Like you said, we’re practically family, right?” Oh, God. Someone muzzle me.
    “Cool,” Dax says, sounding genuinely thrilled. “So why don’t we plan to chat about the video when you get down here?”
    “Sure thing.”
    “So when are you coming to town?”
    “Um. I’ll probably leave in four or five days—I still need to pack and finish up a few things here. And then it should take me