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Literally in this case, but he nodded. “Yep. Warning Sign. I’m here to convince Mal to be our drummer.”
“Not gonna happen,” Mal shouted down the hall.
“We’ll see about that.” Michael smiled at Lucretia. “So you’re Mal’s girlfriend?”
“Oh, darling. You’re so sweet.” She sat on the other end of the couch and plucked a glossy grape off the bunch sitting in a bowl on the coffee table.
Surprising for Mal to have a display of fruit, but maybe he was trying new techniques to woo the ladies. Although this one didn’t seem to need much woo.
“That’s me.” Michael gave her a grim smile and directed his attention at the ceiling. “Like candy.”
“I just bet.”
Mal walked out wearing a towel and a snarl. “Didn’t you get the message when I didn’t answer any of yours?”
“No.” Michael glanced at his brother and did a doubletake. He’d seen Mal shirtless at the show but somehow he looked even more massive tonight. “Jesus, dude, did you start doubling for Vin Diesel in the Furious movies or what?”
Mal ignored him. “Lu, do you mind waiting for me in the bedroom?”
“Of course not, honey.” She rose and gave Mal a kiss heavy on the tongue—and under the towel groping. Then she wiggled her fingers at Michael and sashayed down the hall.
When Michael started to speak, Mal held up a hand. “Since I know you’re a Boy Scout in a rockstar’s clothes, I’ll answer your question before you ask it. No, she’s not my girlfriend. No, I didn’t pay her, but that doesn’t morally offend me as it might you. Yes, your timing sucks royally. Anything I missed?”
“Yeah. You got any advice for your little brother who accidentally got married in Vegas, then realized he wasn’t but really wishes he actually was?”
Mal sank to the couch in the spot Lucretia had just vacated. “Okay, no. I don’t. You got married? What the hell?”
“We didn’t finish the ceremony, but we thought we had. It’s a long story. You up for it? Nah, never mind. I don’t really want to hear what you’re ‘up for’ with Lucretia down the hall.”
Mal shocked him by grinning. “She’s enthusiastic. She probably has a friend or two if you’re looking to get over the missus. I couldn’t really tell from that crazy ass story. Married, seriously?”
“Yeah. Drank too much whisky. I don’t recommend it, though damn, I got the most amazing wife and son out of the deal.”
Whom he might have already lost, if Chloe changed her mind and decided he wasn’t what she wanted long-term.
“Wait, son? You knocked her up too? Damn, what kind of whisky was that?”
Michael had to laugh. “No, she came with the boy. His dad was one of the dudes who used to be in Oblivion. You know Elle in my band that you manhandled? Well, Axl’s dad was Snake, Elle’s brother Nick’s best friend.”
“Hold up. Way too many names, and also, I didn’t manhandle anyone. She was in my way so I helped her to move. Little Ricki.” He shook his head and adjusted his towel. Good thing, since he’d been on the verge of showing off things Michael didn’t want to see.
“‘Little Ricki’ flipped out on Lila and said she didn’t want you in the band. The word beast was used.”
“Did she now? I’d probably be hurt if I gave a shit.” He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. “Tell me, am I supposed to care that she doesn’t like me? Or that Lila’s been on my damn jock for almost two months straight when she didn’t so much as send me a Christmas card for the last five years?”
“When you put it that way…” Michael shook his head to clear it.
He’d had a long drive, and he was more fucked up about Chloe than he wanted to admit. And Mal was so authoritative he could’ve probably convinced Michael to shave his head and join him at the chop shop.
Not that he’d bother. He much preferred Michael staying out of his lane.
“Why do you want me in the band so damn much?”
He had a number of reasons, not the least of which was that Ryan was hurt and had little interest in being their drummer full-time. But the biggest was much simpler.
“Because you’re my big brother, and I fucking miss you. When we were on stage together, it felt like something special. You fit with us like you belonged there. Didn’t you feel it too?”
Mal rubbed a hand over his head. “I told you, I’m not meant for the stage.”
