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A muscle ticked in Ma
l’s jaw. “Hiya, stepmommy. Did you miss me?”
Even without glancing at Elle, Michael glimpsed her hand falling slack at her side. Elle was Lila’s husband Nick’s twin sister, which of course made her Lila’s sister-in-law. Evidently, she hadn’t heard much about the prodigal son.
The missing Shawcross son had finally come back—temporarily at least. Assuming Lila didn’t chase him away.
“He can play,” Michael said defensively.
“Oh really? Since when?” Lila glanced at Mal, but he continued tapping his sticks against his thigh and remained silent.
“He can play,” Michael said again. “Trust me.”
God, he hoped she could trust him. That the rest of his band could too. Right now, he just didn’t know.
That Mal had a selection of sticks was a good sign, but if he asked him anything too probing, his brother was apt to split. And it wasn’t like they had other options except for gimpy Ry, who would try but could only do so much.
This was as good as it got.
“Trust you,” Lila murmured. “If you say so.” She glanced at her iPad, then nodded at one of the stage directors who touched her elbow. “Time to get ready to go.” She glanced at Mal and back to Michael. “Good luck.”
She turned to wave the other members of Warning Sign closer. “You all ready to rock?”
“You know it.” Molly bounced up on her toes. She was wearing one of her costumes, all colors and filmy fabrics that hugged her sexy body. Her hair was a mass of curls, dipping over one eye.
Juliet tucked away her phone and grinned. “Vegas won’t know what to do with us.”
West leaned forward to shake out his crazy mop of blond and teal-streaked hair. “They won’t know what to do with you, Jules, that’s for sure. Or is it what you won’t do?”
“That’s an easy one.” Juliet popped her tongue in the corner of her mouth. “Nothing.”
“So I’ll warm up the crowd,” Ry said, cradling his sore wrist in the other hand. “Get them revved for you guys, maybe get the female sympathy vote for this.” He held up his hand.
“You don’t even have any signatures on it yet,” West said. “Tell the girls you want someone special to come up and sign it.”
“Dumbass, it’s an Ace bandage, not a cast.”
“People can sign those. I’ve seen it done,” West said stubbornly. “Besides, if you get the chicks feeling bad for you, maybe they won’t notice when this one flames out.” He pointed at Mal, who showed no expression whatsoever. “No offense, dude.”
“None taken, dude,” Mal growled.
If that was Mal’s unoffended voice, Michael would prefer not to hear him pissed off anytime soon.
“Children,” Lila said mildly, raising her fist in the air. “Ready?”
Everyone stepped forward, forming a circle, and pumped their fists. Malachi was the last holdout, but when Lila stepped back, Elle reluctantly moved aside to make space. Finally, Mal stepped into the circle and lifted his arm too.
Outside, the crowd was stomping its feet. Already people were amped for the show, and they were just the opening act.
The back of Michael’s neck prickled as his nerves and excitement took over. This was going to either be epic—or an epic failure.
Ryan ran onstage first. “How you all feeling tonight, Vegas?”
The roar of hundreds of voices melding together washed over Michael’s skin. He glanced from Molly to Juliet to West to Elle, reading the anticipation and nerves in their eyes. He saved Malachi for last. He couldn’t believe he was standing with his brother backstage at their concert. That Mal would occupy the same space for the first time in forever. They had a joint goal. A joint reason to kick ass.
No matter what happened from here on out, he’d have this memory to take with him.
When they got the signal to join Ryan onstage, Michael hung back. Normally he was one of the ones racing out at the front of the pack. Tonight, he waited for his brother. He nearly asked him a million questions as they walked out together. He couldn’t help wondering if Mal knew any of their material, or if he’d wanted Ryan to introduce him by name instead of just “a friend who’s filling in and helping out.” Mal deserved name recognition, just like the rest of them.
