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Roger’s shadow doesn’t loom. This place feels… lighter now. Happier. The stockroom isn’t my favorite place, but Bender installed security cameras and a panic button. He also paid to have the alley gated. Without a fob, you can’t get in.
“Besides, I know something you don’t know,” Garrett says.
“You’re older than me. That doesn’t make you smarter than me, Garrett Daniel Marsh.” I roll my eyes. He always thinks he knows more than me. Older brothers never outgrow being annoying. Ever. “What do you think you know that you think I don’t know?”
“You’ll see.” He smirks again.
Razor laughs abruptly. “Do you and your sisters argue like this, too, pretty baby?”
“No,” I answer.
“Yes,” Garrett says at the same exact time.
I ignore him. “My sisters don’t annoy me like some people.”
“You love me.”
“Hurry and get married so someone else can love you instead,” I say, my voice saccharine.
“Working on it,” Garrett rumbles, lifting his beer to his lips again.
I whip my head in his direction, shocked. But he’s not looking at me. He’s staring off into the distance, his brows furrowed. Huh. I think my brother is in love.
“Fucking finally,” Razor mutters, hopping up from his barstool before I can badger Garrett for details. He reaches over the bar for my hand. “Come here, pretty baby.”
“I’m working, Razor.”
“Not right now, you aren’t. The bar is closed.” He pulls me around to the end of the bar and then out onto the floor. We weave through tables, heading toward the stage.
Why are Bender, Zak, and Pen on stage? And why is Bender behind a drum set? I didn’t even know he knew how to play the drums.
“What’s going on?” I ask warily as Razor leads me right up to the edge of the stage and then sits me down at a table front and center.
“I want you to hear something,” he murmurs, leaning down to run his lips across my forehead. “Just sit right there.”
“Okay…”
He shoots me a reassuring smile and then hops up on stage.
“Don’t fuck this up,” he growls at Bender.
“Settle your ass down. I’ve got this,” Bender says, flipping him the bird.
Razor steps up to the microphone and then winks at me. Is he… Oh my gosh, is he singing? Razor doesn’t sing. Well, he sings in the shower, but his voice is not great. There’s a reason he’s the drummer.
Bender counts off, and then the band launches into a song.
“She's pale moonlight and sweet sunshine,” Razor sings, his gritty voice off-key but still sexy as sin to me. “Pretty little baby with the devil in her eyes.”
I gasp when I realize he’s singing about me. He wrote a song about me. Oh my goodness.
“Lord have mercy, and then hell can have my soul. This sweet little thing has me losing all control.” He shimmies his hips, making Garrett wolf-whistle at him.
I giggle, trying not to cry. I can’t believe he wrote a song about me.
“One kiss from her lips. A single touch of her hands,” Razor sings at the top of his lungs. “Damn, my pretty baby has me falling again.” He hops off the stage, smirking as he strides toward me.
“I love you,” I mouth.
