“I’ll be there.” His hand fell away and slid back inside his jean’s pocket. “I should’ve stopped your brother from coming down. If it’s any consolation, I think your brother just wants to go because Avi is going to be there.”

I rolled my eyes. That made it worse. “So, my brother is subjecting me to an entire day of torture with Emerson so he can get in some hot singer’s pants?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Apparently her vocals are supposed to be off the charts.”

“Grammy winning off the charts?”

Both corners of his mouth were stretched. He was trying not to laugh. “I guess. Does that make it better?”

I groaned. “It’s done. Avi’s vagina had better be the best he’s ever felt because a whole day with Emerson…” I shook my head. “Someone’s going to end up in the hospital.”

It was nuts when we got there.

“Took you long enough, my future band masters.” The first person we saw was Dustin. Barefoot and wearing only black swimming trunks and a yellow inner tube around his waist, he lifted his beer in a salute. When we got closer, we could see a small rubber ducky was duct taped onto the inner tube. A six-pack of beer dangled from his waist, hanging from a cord that had been looped around the inner tube.

“What the…” Braden stopped beside me, holding a cooler of beer on his shoulder. “I thought this shindig was insiders only.”

Dustin’s hand went to his chest. “That hurts, my future best friend. Insiders only? I’m a Grant West purebred.” His hand went to the rubber ducky. “Is no one going to mention my buddy here?”

I didn’t care.

Braden scratched the back of his neck.

Luke’s eyebrows bunched forward.

“That hurts.” Dustin squeezed the duck so it squeaked. “His name is Hitchcock. He’s a rebel.”

“How’d all these people get invited?” Braden asked, scowling.

“Okay.” Dustin indicated behind him, his hand sweeping out like he was on The Price is Right. “Yes, I’ll admit I might’ve overextended my privileges of being your future head roadie, but these fine folk heard the words ‘river,’ ‘drinking,’ and ‘bands.’ I couldn’t fight them off with a bat. They were salivating over the idea of hanging out with some local bands, especially one that’s going to be famous.” His hand moved back in front of him, and he pointed at us with a finger. “That’s you guys.”

The river was a specific spot where people were able to camp, barbeque, swim, and fish. It wasn’t known to a lot of people, but a few guys from another band found the spot five years ago. It was spread by word of mouth, and eventually anyone who was in a band, knew a band, followed a band, or were friends with a band knew about the place. There was no parking lot, only a large patch of grass, and the beach was a sand bar. As Dustin was speaking, a group of girls ran past us in their bikinis, wearing straw hats and cowboy boots. One of the girls paused long enough for me to read Grant West University on the back of her bikini bottom.

It wasn’t a local secret anymore.

I skimmed the line of cars. “I’m betting there are twenty cars here.”

Braden scowled, tightening his grip on the cooler. “No outsiders allowed.”

“Paul’s coming.” Luke pointed ahead of us where a guy had broken apart from the crowd. He was walking toward us, moving in a quick gait.

Like the last time we saw him, he was gripping a beer in his hand and waved with his other. “Hey, guys. I’m glad you could come.” He pointed over his shoulder. “This was all last minute. A bunch of us thought an all-day party was the way to go today.” He put two fingers to his mouth, making a sucking sound. “You know, we didn’t want the party to stop, but, yeah. Emerson was there. I gave him the invite. He was supposed to let you guys know. When he didn’t show this morning, I figured I should get ahold of one of you guys. You never know with him, do ya?”

Emerson at a party? I muttered under my breath, “What a shocker.”

Dustin’s duck squeaked.

“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?”