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“Apparently.” I laugh.
Victor appears from behind me, clapping Garrett on the back. “Good set,” he praises.
“You guys were pretty amazing,” I agree.
“Yeah?”
“Hell yes. But why are you playing this shitty venue? This could’ve been a much bigger turnout.”
“You think?” Victor asks. I turn my attention to him.
“One hundred percent.”
“What would you do differently?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“I’d make a kickass flyer, then start by blasting it all over social media. Target the college kids. Even if it’s not their typical scene, this town is small. Everyone would show up simply due to the lack of things to do around here.”
“Is that all?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d also ask the owner about having half-priced drinks for the first hour. The only thing we like more than alcohol is cheap alcohol.”
Garrett smothers his smile with his hand, and I look between them, confused.
“What?”
“This is my venue,” Victor says gruffly.
“Oh.” Shit. “I’m sorry—”
“You think you could do it better?” he asks, cutting me off. “Call me, and I’ll let you try your hand at it.”
“Really?” I ask cautiously. He pulls out a card, handing it to me.
“Tonight was a trial run for me. But you have good instincts, and even more importantly, you’re from the right generation.”
Speechless, I take the card that sits between his first and middle finger.
“Get her home safely,” he tells Garrett.
Garrett salutes him, and then Victor’s gone.
“What…the hell just happened?”
“Surprises, Allison. Full of surprises.”
For the rest of the night, Garrett and the lead singer of his band, Mark, stay close to me, drinking and talking shit. Gutterpunk plays, and they’re the same old sloppy punk band I remember, even though they’ve got to be pushing fifty by now.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say as I almost lose my footing on the uneven walkway outside Lo’s house. Garrett grips my arm as I right myself, and I laugh at my clumsiness. I’m not drunk, but I’m feeling a lit
tle buzzed. But it’s a good buzz. Warm and fuzzy and happy. Garrett is fun to be around, and I don’t get the impression that he’s interested in me, so my guard is down. It feels good.
“I’ll see you Monday?” I scrounge for my key in the small purse that hangs by my hip. But before I can locate it, the front door swings open. A familiar tall blonde appears in front of me, lipstick smeared and eyes wide with surprise before her face transforms into a slow, devious grin. Victorious would be the word I’d use to describe it. Sierra. Again.
I narrow my eyes at her as she swings the door open wider, allowing me the opportunity to see Jesse zipping his jeans. She watches me closely for a reaction. One that I won’t give her.
“Well, this was fun,” I say lightly before turning back to Garrett. My stomach is swirling with something that feels a lot like disappointment—or maybe the alcohol is starting to rear its ugly head and I’m about to be sick—but I don’t show it. “Thanks for the ride,” I say. Sierra trots past me, knowing she’s not getting the reaction she wanted. Garrett looks over my shoulder, taking in the scene behind me before meeting my eyes. “Call me if you need anything.”
I nod, giving him what I hope is a convincing smile, before closing the door. Taking a deep breath, I turn back around. Jesse sits on the couch with his thighs spread wide. No shirt. Hands crossed behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but the tension in his jaw tells me otherwise. Who hooks up in the middle of the living room when people are home? Jesse fucking Shepherd, obviously.
