“Elijah and I are done. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Except not listen to everyone. “It’s going to come out eventually.” A different thought came to mind. “Is Emerson in there?”

Luke chuckled, and the smooth sound of it washed over me, acting like a caress. “You mean our bass guitarist? The guy who’s always down for partying? Your cousin?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, the cousin that hates me.”

“Yeah, he’s in there, too.”

Well, this was going to be fun. “Okay, let’s just get this over with.” I opened my door and got out. Luke did the same on his side, and we headed across the parking lot together. As we entered the bar, I heard my cousin yell out over the microphone, “All hail our lead singer, Luke Skeeet!”

A couple of girls giggled.

Then I heard. “What the hell?”

Coming from outside, I was blinded for a moment by the rising sun into the dark bar. Expecting them to have moved all the equipment down into the basement, I was surprised to see everything was still on the stage. Then I saw my cousin. He’d been sitting behind the drum set, but he was standing now, glaring at me.

“What are you doing with her?”

I flicked him off. Different day. Same routine.

“Fuck you, Bri.”

The other middle finger went up, and I forced a fake smile. Since I started dating his best friend, Elijah, Emerson turned from loving me like family to hating me like we were blood enemies. It was a switch that happened over night, and after three years of his attitude, I stopped wondering what I’d done and just went with it. We were hostile, at best, but sometimes it got worse. I waited, wondering if this was going to be another night that would be another ‘worse’ situation. I was prepared and ready to fight.

Luke ignored him and glanced around. “Where’s Braden?”

Emerson was a few inches shorter than Luke. Whereas Luke was six feet, broad shoulders, and lean with a trim waist, Emerson had a stout build. He was solid and muscular. The other difference was that Luke had a mop of brown hair, usually brushed aside and ruffled to look messy, but it worked for him. He was gorgeous with chiseled cheekbones and a face that belonged in magazines. My cousin had stopped trying to grow his hair out. Instead, he cut it all off and maintained a buzz cut, almost bald. His cheekbones were set too close to his eyes, his mouth was small and usually in a scowl, at least around me, and tattoos adorned his neck and body.

Grudgingly, Emerson answered, his glare moving away from me, “He headed home. Why?” After tossing the sticks onto the floor, which had me wincing, he jumped off the stage. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he came over closer, his beady eyes fixed firmly on me. “What are you doing here, Bri?”

I didn’t look at him, but I felt Luke glancing sideways at me.

Here we go. “SWAT came in this morning.”

Emerson narrowed his eyes.

I added, “Elijah was arrested. I was taken in, too.” My lips were suddenly dry. “A girl overdosed at the rave last night. They’re trying to pin it on him.”

A deep growl came from the back of his throat. “Tell me you called someone to bail him out.”

I didn’t, but I didn’t tell him that.

Emerson took my silence the right way, and another growl burst from him. “Are you kidding me, Bri? What kind of girlfriend are you? At least call his—”

“His what?” I cut him off. “His mom’s probably passed out in her own vomit, and you know he’s got no one else that he trusts. His roommate won’t leave his basement, and I refuse to call any of his drug people. I don’t even know who they are.”

He clipped his head from side to side. “You’re unbelievable.” He looked at Luke. “I gotta bail him out. We have another gig tonight?”

Luke nodded, watching me the entire time. “Yeah.”

“Do we need to practice beforehand?”

“Yeah, I want to practice that new song.”

“Fine. I’ll be here at eight.”

As they talked, Emerson pulled out his phone and wallet. He thumbed through his cash, taking inventory, and when his frown deepened, I assumed he didn’t have enough. I shook my head. “You’re wasting your time. His bail hasn’t even been set.”

“Whatever.” He seared me with another dirty look, pressing some numbers on his phone and lifting the receiver to his ear. “I can still start calling for a bond.” As he moved around me, we heard him say, “Yeah, hi. I need the number for a bail bonds—” He shoved through the door, and it slammed shut behind him.

Luke didn’t say anything. He was only watching me. Always watching me. I needed a moment to center my thoughts. Rather than looking at Luke, I looked around the bar. Rowdy’s was a dingy, hole-in-the-wall, dive bar. There was nothing flashy about the outside. A simple sign was the only thing that hung outside to attract customers, and it was more to show where the entry door was. The inside had a stage in one corner with a small dance area. Tables and bar stools filled up the middle, and the back had pool tables with booths lining the walls.

The clientele had always been vast. They ranged from blue-collar workers to those down-on-their-luck to local college students. One dollar tap beer helped bring in those students, while Friday nights’ DJ brought in the dancing crowd. Saturday nights showcased local bands with Luke and my brother’s band playing the majority of them.

The floor was swept clean. The bar stools were sitting on top of the counters, and the chairs were turned upside down over the tables. Rowdy’s office was closed, and I couldn’t see a light from underneath the door. Only a handful of girls remained in the bar. A few were leaning against the stage, looking tired. I had a hunch they were waiting for Luke.