“Everyone looks drunk.” Braden bent down, setting the cooler onto the ground. “There’s no way everyone’s going to be able to drive to Grant West tonight. The Feast is happening here tonight.”
Just then, someone struck up a guitar chord, and a loud ‘whoop’ filled the air. One of the bands was warming up their instruments. It wasn’t long before a crowd had gathered around them, and people started dancing on the sidelines.
“Yeah, we’ve been calling everyone today, letting them know the change of location.” Paul saluted us with his beer. “We’ll do it proper next year. It looks like they’re starting up a jam session. You guys are welcome to join, as always. In fact, I know they wanted you guys to come. Bri,” Paul said to me, “some of the new bands were hoping to talk to you. They’re looking for a good drummer, thought you might know of someone.”
“She’s ours,” my brother growled.
“Braden.” Luke’s eyes flashed a warning. “Chill.”
“Sorry,” he said to Paul. “Sorry, man. I just don’t like the idea of outsiders coming in. I liked our tradition how it was.” His eyes skimmed over me, and I understood my brother’s concern. If The Feast was overrun with outsiders, it was no longer just ours. It was theirs. It became about performing instead of playing music. Then his head shot to the right, and he asked, “Is that Avi?”
Without waiting for a response, Braden grabbed the cooler and took off, heading for a girl who was swaying back and forth. Her hands were weaving in the air like she was playing an invisible cello, her head was back, and her eyes were closed.
“Braden’s got a thing for vocal chords.” Dustin was petting the duck as if it were a real pet. “Cool. She’s hot.”
Paul asked us, “He must not be that upset?”
“He’ll get over it.” Luke stepped forward and clapped Paul on the shoulder. “Braden cares about music and ass. He’ll get both here tonight. It might be fun, doing The Feast like this for the year.”
“Hey, Paul!” a shout came from the group. A girl was jumping up and down, pumping her arms back and forth each time she launched herself in the air. “Come on!”
He started heading for her, but threw over his shoulder to us, “I’ll see you guys over there. There’s lots of food and booze, among other things.”
Dustin moved closer to us as Paul jogged back to the group. “Hey…” His tone was suddenly serious, very unlike Dustin.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
He added, “I gotta warn you two. I overheard some conversations from some of the people.” His hand slapped against his chest. “Not my people, other people. Like, people I didn’t invite, but aren’t in all your ‘inner musician’ circle, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah.” My unease spiked. “What’d you overhear?”
“There are dudes here who don’t like your ex.” Dustin’s eyes darted to Luke’s and held there for a moment before swinging back to mine. His hand had a death grip on Hitchcock’s neck. The air was pushing all the way up into the head and was straining at the ends. His duck was going to explode. “Paul doesn’t know any of it, but there’s a group who wanted Elijah called, but they’re acting shady about it. They’re hoping he comes with Emerson for some reason. He’s got competitors, right?”
I heard the cop again, asking me, “Someone else runs Grant East. Are they the ones moving in?” Braden’s voice overlapped hers, saying, “Paul said some other guys were at the party— guys he didn’t know. He asked Emerson about them, but Em was adamant that he needed to leave them alone.” An image of Paul flashed in my mind, as he walked around the side of his house, “I wanted to call Elijah, but Emerson kept saying in the bedroom we couldn’t call him…”
I grabbed for Luke’s arm. “Elijah can’t come here.” The words were out of me before I realized I had thought them, but I was right. These guys, whomever they were, were Eli’s competitors. “It’s too dangerous for him to come here.”
I held still, knowing how that sounded. I was the ex, speaking up for Elijah, but it was the truth. “I’m sorry, Luke. We have to stop Elijah and Emerson.”
“Too late.”
Those words came from behind us, and we saw Elijah and Emerson, both standing there. My cousin was already scowling, but when wasn’t he? He was decked out in sandals, swim trunks, and a tank top that had a large fist on the front of it. With sunglasses covering his eyes and a red cooler of beer, he looked ready for a day in the sun. Elijah, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was decked out in his usual wardrobe—a black sweatshirt and jeans over sneakers. However, his hood wasn’t pulled up. He tilted his head to the side, and his hand scratched the bottom of his chin. He asked, “‘Too late’ for what, Bri? What are you hoping to stop us from?”
Luke and I shared a look. What did we do?
Luke decided for me. He gestured to the crowd behind us. “We think your competitors are here. Are you vying for new clients? Is that why you’re here?”
“What?” Elijah narrowed his eyes.
Emerson stepped to the side. We were no longer two facing two, but more of a circle now. As he did, he glanced behind me and checked out the group, too, before turning so his back was slightly toward them. He lowered his voice. “Those are Brute’s guys. You can’t go over there, Eli. They’ll think you’re here on their territory.”
Elijah was looking past our shoulders, his gaze firmly trained on the group. I had no doubt who he was looking at. The longer he studied them, the more my alarm rose. This wasn’t Easygoing Elijah; this was Dangerous Elijah. I almost snorted. Of course. This side came out when it dealt with his business.
His eyes slid to mine. “You got a problem?”
“What are you going to do?” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “Fight ’em? Paul lives in Grant East—”
“What do you know about Grant East?”
“I know what the cops told me, you know, when they raided your house, and I got my ass hauled to the station. They said Brute runs Grant East. What are you doing here, Elijah?”
“My best friend asked me to come here. I came to hang out.”
Just then, someone struck up a guitar chord, and a loud ‘whoop’ filled the air. One of the bands was warming up their instruments. It wasn’t long before a crowd had gathered around them, and people started dancing on the sidelines.
“Yeah, we’ve been calling everyone today, letting them know the change of location.” Paul saluted us with his beer. “We’ll do it proper next year. It looks like they’re starting up a jam session. You guys are welcome to join, as always. In fact, I know they wanted you guys to come. Bri,” Paul said to me, “some of the new bands were hoping to talk to you. They’re looking for a good drummer, thought you might know of someone.”
“She’s ours,” my brother growled.
“Braden.” Luke’s eyes flashed a warning. “Chill.”
“Sorry,” he said to Paul. “Sorry, man. I just don’t like the idea of outsiders coming in. I liked our tradition how it was.” His eyes skimmed over me, and I understood my brother’s concern. If The Feast was overrun with outsiders, it was no longer just ours. It was theirs. It became about performing instead of playing music. Then his head shot to the right, and he asked, “Is that Avi?”
Without waiting for a response, Braden grabbed the cooler and took off, heading for a girl who was swaying back and forth. Her hands were weaving in the air like she was playing an invisible cello, her head was back, and her eyes were closed.
“Braden’s got a thing for vocal chords.” Dustin was petting the duck as if it were a real pet. “Cool. She’s hot.”
Paul asked us, “He must not be that upset?”
“He’ll get over it.” Luke stepped forward and clapped Paul on the shoulder. “Braden cares about music and ass. He’ll get both here tonight. It might be fun, doing The Feast like this for the year.”
“Hey, Paul!” a shout came from the group. A girl was jumping up and down, pumping her arms back and forth each time she launched herself in the air. “Come on!”
He started heading for her, but threw over his shoulder to us, “I’ll see you guys over there. There’s lots of food and booze, among other things.”
Dustin moved closer to us as Paul jogged back to the group. “Hey…” His tone was suddenly serious, very unlike Dustin.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
He added, “I gotta warn you two. I overheard some conversations from some of the people.” His hand slapped against his chest. “Not my people, other people. Like, people I didn’t invite, but aren’t in all your ‘inner musician’ circle, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah.” My unease spiked. “What’d you overhear?”
“There are dudes here who don’t like your ex.” Dustin’s eyes darted to Luke’s and held there for a moment before swinging back to mine. His hand had a death grip on Hitchcock’s neck. The air was pushing all the way up into the head and was straining at the ends. His duck was going to explode. “Paul doesn’t know any of it, but there’s a group who wanted Elijah called, but they’re acting shady about it. They’re hoping he comes with Emerson for some reason. He’s got competitors, right?”
I heard the cop again, asking me, “Someone else runs Grant East. Are they the ones moving in?” Braden’s voice overlapped hers, saying, “Paul said some other guys were at the party— guys he didn’t know. He asked Emerson about them, but Em was adamant that he needed to leave them alone.” An image of Paul flashed in my mind, as he walked around the side of his house, “I wanted to call Elijah, but Emerson kept saying in the bedroom we couldn’t call him…”
I grabbed for Luke’s arm. “Elijah can’t come here.” The words were out of me before I realized I had thought them, but I was right. These guys, whomever they were, were Eli’s competitors. “It’s too dangerous for him to come here.”
I held still, knowing how that sounded. I was the ex, speaking up for Elijah, but it was the truth. “I’m sorry, Luke. We have to stop Elijah and Emerson.”
“Too late.”
Those words came from behind us, and we saw Elijah and Emerson, both standing there. My cousin was already scowling, but when wasn’t he? He was decked out in sandals, swim trunks, and a tank top that had a large fist on the front of it. With sunglasses covering his eyes and a red cooler of beer, he looked ready for a day in the sun. Elijah, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was decked out in his usual wardrobe—a black sweatshirt and jeans over sneakers. However, his hood wasn’t pulled up. He tilted his head to the side, and his hand scratched the bottom of his chin. He asked, “‘Too late’ for what, Bri? What are you hoping to stop us from?”
Luke and I shared a look. What did we do?
Luke decided for me. He gestured to the crowd behind us. “We think your competitors are here. Are you vying for new clients? Is that why you’re here?”
“What?” Elijah narrowed his eyes.
Emerson stepped to the side. We were no longer two facing two, but more of a circle now. As he did, he glanced behind me and checked out the group, too, before turning so his back was slightly toward them. He lowered his voice. “Those are Brute’s guys. You can’t go over there, Eli. They’ll think you’re here on their territory.”
Elijah was looking past our shoulders, his gaze firmly trained on the group. I had no doubt who he was looking at. The longer he studied them, the more my alarm rose. This wasn’t Easygoing Elijah; this was Dangerous Elijah. I almost snorted. Of course. This side came out when it dealt with his business.
His eyes slid to mine. “You got a problem?”
“What are you going to do?” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “Fight ’em? Paul lives in Grant East—”
“What do you know about Grant East?”
“I know what the cops told me, you know, when they raided your house, and I got my ass hauled to the station. They said Brute runs Grant East. What are you doing here, Elijah?”
“My best friend asked me to come here. I came to hang out.”
