The two of them ended up on the floor, wrestling around like ten year olds, before Zee finally called “uncle”.
“That’s what I thought.” Lyrik shot him a gloating grin and sat back on his haunches, while Zee pushed up to sitting, gasping for breath, then just turned around and dug it in a little more. “Still got all your money, asshole.”
Like any of us needed to worry about money.
Ash started shuffling for another hand, before he slapped the deck down in frustration. “I’m about to go out of my mind over here. Let’s get out of here. I can’t stay holed up in this house any longer.”
“Not sure that’s the best idea.” Since when had I become the voice of reason? But we hadn’t been out as a group since we got here. Individually? Sure. But it seemed more conspicuous if the four of us went strutting around together, just begging for attention.
It was pretty clear that voice of reason was concerned about one person and one person only, the girl who still looked at me as if I was just a regular guy who’d walked in from off the streets.
“Why not? No one has even batted an eye my direction anytime I’ve run into town. I think we’re good to go grab a drink. That’s it. No fuckery,” Ash reasoned.
Lyrik and Zee both nodded, and Lyrik spoke up. “Yeah, no worries, we’ll keep it cool. We just need a breather from these walls before we go redrum on your ass.”
I scrubbed my palm over my mouth, feeling put on the spot.
Zee looked at me, lifted his chin. “Where have you been sneaking off to every night? Something out there has to be interesting to keep your attention for this long.”
Interesting.
That term didn’t even come close to describing Shea.
I lifted a casual shoulder, while my blood pressure shot up by about a hundred points. “Nah. It’s just a bar where Anthony hangs out at when he’s in town. It’s cool. There’s usually live music.”
“Hell, yeah. Let’s go check it out. Anything is better than this,” Lyrik said, climbing to his feet and flinging back the jet-black hair clinging to his face.
Ash stood and drained his beer. “Let’s do it.”
Zee grabbed the keys to the Suburban. “I’ll drive.”
Shit.
“Let me grab a shirt,” Lyrik said before he ran upstairs, and I followed him, tapped at Austin’s door. I cracked it open. “Hey, man, we’re going to run into town and grab a drink. You good?”
Lying on his bed in the dark, he pulled his headphones from his ears and rolled his head back to look at me. “Yep. I’ll be here.”
I hesitated. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
He smiled a tight smile. “I’m fine, Baz. Don’t worry about me.”
Like that would ever happen. But he was an adult and I couldn’t go coddling him like a little kid anymore, as much as I wanted to.
“All right. Get some rest.”
I clicked his door shut and bounded back downstairs. Excitement and dread were making a play for the win on my feelings. Excitement was rarely an emotion I was familiar with anymore, and it left me feeling all fidgety and on edge, not quite sure what to do with myself.
Everyone was gathered at the front door, ready to head out.
“I’m gonna take my bike. Need to clear my head.” More like try to regain my cool. Here I was about to lead my loser friends off to invade my sanctuary. It was bad enough worrying about being discovered night after night.
It was that redheaded bartender that set me off-kilter. The girl screamed L.A. Every exposed inch of her, and I could only assume the sparse bit that she didn’t put on display, was covered in tattoos, all leather and high-healed boots, snark painted all over her too-perfect face.
She stuck out in that bar worse than I did.
But it was the way she looked at me that had me betting she knew exactly who I was.
Still, she’d never called me out. She just watched me watching her girl, trying to get a read on me.
Was wondering if that rule would remain true when I paraded through the door with the entire crew in tow.
Zee’s brow lifted in concern. “You sure you’re fine to ride?”
The Keeper.
“Yeah, man, I’ve had half a beer. I’m good.”
“All right then, we’ll follow you out.”
I felt a tug of dread, all mixed up with a barrel-load of eager anticipation.
I STRUGGLED TO BREAK THROUGH the bottleneck close to the stage, delivering some drinks at a couple of tables and taking the order at a few more. It was Saturday night and Charlie’s was packed, which was common for a weekend, but especially so when Carolina George was playing. Their music was country, but took on a distinct pop edge. Their guitar player, Rick, was something to look at, and the women seemed to flock in just to stare at him all night. The singer, Emily, was completely gorgeous and had a voice that made me get a little lost in my thoughts.