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“Smell Kieran’s finger and see if that gives you the answer,” Rad says, barking out a sharp laugh. The entire car shakes when he throws himself back into his seat, practically crying with laughter.
Asher scowls. “That’s not gonna—” Ash’s eyes widen as big as fucking saucers when my pussy-coated fingers slip into his mouth, giving him a taste. He’ll never tell Callum and Rad that the tip of his tongue poked against my fingers before he spits and sputters, forcing me out.
“You were saying?” I ask, cocking my head to the side with a feral grin. Nothing makes me happier than riling up my stepbrother. The angrier he gets, the funnier it is.
His teeth grind when he turns his glare directly at me. His nostrils flare wildly, and his fingers clench into a fist until he’s punching the steering wheel and grunting curses in my direction.
“I’ll be back,” he bites out, throwing his shirt off and into my face.
“We’ll warm up while you….” Rad says as Ash takes off down the road, jogging toward the only place that calms him down whenever he works himself up like this.
“So dramatic,” I mock, throwing his shirt into the passenger seat. “Now, let’s get some practice in before he gets back,” I say, getting out of the car with the guys on my heels.
“Think he’ll be back in time?” Callum asks, rubbing his chin and staring off into the distance. We all wonder the same thing. How long will he run for now? And when will he make it to his destination?
“Give him time,” I say, clutching his shoulder and chuckling. “He’ll be back. You know him; he always pushes himself to the brink. No matter if it’s ten minutes or two hours. He’ll be a sweaty fucking mess by the time he gets back.”
Asher may like to pretend he doesn’t like us, but deep down, he at least enjoys our presence enough to tolerate us regularly.
Walking up to the garage door, I punch in the four-number code with a sigh. This is it. The moment I’ve been aching for since I woke up this morning. The moment I’ve been dreaming about through my first classes of the year to finish up my business degree.
As the garage door slowly lifts, our paradise comes into view just as Ash’s sweaty form comes back into view. He heaves a breath, leaning his hands on his knees, and shakes the sweat off.
“You good?” I ask, staring down at him when he nods.
“As good as I’ll be for now,” he mumbles, standing tall. His eyes drift over our setup, and I see the moment the stress of the world rolls off his shoulders. “Just don’t fucking stick your pussy fingers in my mouth again,” he gripes, pushing my shoulder. “If I wanted a taste, I’d fucking take a taste.” And with that, he waltzes into our band space with sweat pouring from every inch of his skin after pushing himself for ten minutes straight. Throwing his guitar strap over his bare shoulder, he begins tuning his strings. Within a few plucks, guided by his natural ability, he’s all tuned up and ready to go.
“Why the fuck are you undressing? Again?” Ash asks, turning to Rad, who sits completely naked on his stool behind his drums, minus the combat boots secured to his feet.
“The boys gotta breathe, bro. It’s hot, and my balls are cooking inside my jeans,” he says, twirling a drumstick in both hands. “Duh.” Without another word, he counts us in, and we construct a new song we’ve felt in the pits of our dark souls for days, flowing out of us with ease.
This is where it’s at. The music brings us together, binding us in a friendship that will never fall apart. We may not always like each other. But we’re fucking brothers. As long as we have this. The chords. The melodies. And the words, we have it all—even River in the future.
Daynumbertwoofmy manager job at Dead End finds me back at the front door admitting patrons into the bar—AKA my favorite place to be.
When I was fifteen—yeah, fifteen, I know. Probably way too young to be hanging around a bar, but I had good reason. I begged Booker to give me a job. I was desperate to make money and support myself since my mom could barely do that on a good day. Plus, I needed something to take my mind off all the awful shit happening around me. I needed a purpose, and this right here gave me just that.
On the first day on the job, he sat me here and explained what I needed to do. Check IDs, stamp hands, and turn people away when I have to. He was my saving grace. The only adult to look at me and see a responsible girl looking to make a better life for herself.
Nestled on my bar stool with my tiny podium in front of me, I watch the crazy line stretching out the door and onto the sidewalk. Again. Seriously, it has to be a mile long by now. It’s the longest line I’ve ever seen coming into this place. And I fucking did it! I brought these people here. Well, okay. Sorcha’s band brought them here to my venue. My hard work made this happen, and I can’t wait for Booker to see all the success I’m bringing to Dead End.
Soft murmurs and excited whoops permeate the air, and the growing crowd surrounds our meager stage with such excitement; my fucking heart skips a beat. Packed shoulder to shoulder with their arms touching and their heads leaning back as the lights on stage dim low, leaving us all in the dark. For only a moment, at least.
A sudden cheer erupts through the crowd, their arms bursting into the air. They jump up and down as the band makes their way across the stage, taking their places in the pitch-black atmosphere. Their shoes scuff, and their heels click against the wooden set. And all hell breaks loose when the bright lights flash, and the crowd screeches more when Sorcha herself hits the first notes of their opening song.
Her crazy red curls bounce when she bobs her head, looking back at the three other women playing with her. She grins, turning her pearly whites toward the crowd, and screeches her first line of the night.
“Hello, Central City! Glad to be here! Let’s wake the damn dead!” she screams into the microphone before gracefully singing the first notes of their opening song.
Pure ecstasy saturates my soul in waves. The weight of the world momentarily lifts from my shoulders. All the stress. All the pain. Everything I’ve endured in my brief life leaves me like a bird in flight, hopefully never to return. One day I’ll live without this hovering above me, but for now, I’ll revel in the music carrying me away. My eyes close on their own, my body swaying to the beat of the heavy drums leading up to the song’s chorus. She screeches her words, hyping everyone in the crowd up.
Taking a deep, refreshing breath, I bathe in the atmosphere. This is why I’m here. This is why I do what I do for this place and bring these bands in. They’re like sage to the soul; I’d never have it any other way.
Life flashes before me again, and I bring myself back out of the clouds with a renewed sense of determination. Whatever I plan to do with my life after I get my degree in business, I want it to involve music. Maybe that comes from my dad, or perhaps that comes from my dependency on tunes. Whatever it is, I’m determined to make my dreams come true. No matter what I have to do. I’ll leave this town behind with one finger raised in the air and a degree in the other hand.
“Ahem! Bitch,” a familiar woman’s voice snaps me out of my reprieve.
Right. This must be my torture for the evening. Peering up, I put on my polite face and smile at Tessa. Her ice-blue eyes again glare at me, scoffing and tossing her perfect blonde locks over her shoulder.
