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Colt
I haven’t heardfrom her in almost twenty-four hours, and I’m starting to get a little worried. She said she’d text me after dinner last night, and she never did. I fell asleep waiting for her to message me. After a full day of cleaning, unloading wood for the stage that needs to be built, and four hours of practice with the guys, I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
The first thing I did this morning was shoot her a message to make sure she was okay.
When she didn’t respond, I called her, and it went straight to voicemail.
Either she’s avoiding me, or something is wrong. I can’t come up with any other explanation.
And now that some of my brothers are starting to show back up at the house, returning from the holidays with their families early to celebrate the new year, I can’t stare at my phone without looking suspicious.
“The place looks great,” Max says as he leans against my open door.
Tossing my phone on the bed beside me, I lean back and smirk at him. “What? Didn’t think I knew how to clean?”
“I’d be shocked if you didn’t confess to hiring someone.”
“Nope. It was all me. Not like I didn’t have the time.”
He surveys my room as he enters. “Smells better in here.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t light some candles and go through an entire bottle of air freshener, but it didn’t smell that bad. Plus, it helps I found the culprit of the stench when I cleaned. There was an old t-shirt and a pair of dirty socks under my bed. I can’t even remember the last time I wore that shirt, but judging by the paint and grime on it, it was probably last summer while we were fixing up the house. And it was hot as fuck in here while we were painting.
“The last time I was in here I was hiding from Mya, and I thought I was going to vomit.”
Dramatic much. It wasn’t that bad. Though, it wasn’t pleasant either. But I sleep with the window open most nights, so it didn’t bother me.
“How goes the planning?”
“I’ve got about sixty people who have accepted the invitation. Twenty or so have yet to respond, and most of those are brothers who I know will be here. I’d plan for a decent-sized audience. With the cover charge, I think you should make more than any of your other gigs.”
That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Even though it sounds like a lot of money, I only get a third of the cut.
“Any issues with people finding out that weren’t invited?”
The last time I spoke with Max, he was worried the Zetas were going to tell Cleo and she’d show up unannounced. He was flipping out about it. I’ve never seen him lose his cool as quickly as he did when I mentioned her name.
“Nope. Heard Cleo was still at home with her parents, so she shouldn’t be a problem.”
Lucky me. If she had shown up, Max’s wrath would have been taken out on me specifically. For making him host the gig.
“Cool.”
“When do you want to start building the stage? Where are we building it?” He asks, a note of concern in his voice.
“I was thinking in the back living room that way people have easier access to the kitchen and the bathroom.”
“The front room is bigger,” he points out, wrinkling his brow in confusion.
“And the acoustics suck because the ceiling is so high. If we use the smaller room, we can keep the amps turned down a little, and there’s less of a chance someone calls the cops.”
Ace, Nash, and I set up in the main room when we practiced yesterday. In an empty house, the sound traveled. Kane happened to be coming home as we were running through the last song. He said he could hear the music down the street.
Not what we want.
Not only would it draw the attention of the cops, but also the attention of any students who might be around. With an exclusive guest list, someone would have to be at the door all night, turning people away, instead of enjoying the party.
