Page 12 of Never Have I Ever

I glance at Nikki because my sister knows, even if my cousin doesn’t. It’s not an “it” but a woman I can’t get over.

Our food is delivered, and our drinks are topped off. Shane digs right in, but I’ve lost my appetite.

By how Nikki pinches her brows together, she might have as well. She’d say it’s a twin thing—twin intuition or how she calls it “twin-tuition”—some imaginary connection between the two of us. What affects me affects her, and vice versa. It’s all bullshit, but I play along for her sake.

Being called out for a few bad months . . . or years did the trick.

“Listen,” she starts, sounding a lot like our dad. He’s always been the kind of dad who’s a friend who sets boundaries instead of rules. I can’t tell you how many times we went home drunk because he was trying to teach me the dangers of drinking and ended up wasted himself. Good times.

This so-called lunch . . . not so much.

She says, “We all go through challenging times. You know firsthand that I did. Both of you do, but I kept moving toward our goals. I had to for the band despite the personal setbacks.”

“Basically . . .” Shane waves his next bite in the air with his chopsticks. “It’s time to shake it off, fuck it out of your system, or do whatever needs to be done before we’re kicked off the ticket this summer.”

“I’ve tried that route and all it did was land me in jail. I think I prefer Nikki’s approach.”

She adds, “The past aside, we need to finish the album. You missed the last three studio sessions we had booked to rehearse.”

“I had shit I needed to do.”

“You didn’t have shit to do.” Shane twists my words against me. “You just didn’t show up. Not for us or yourself.” He glances at Nikki as if he’s about to break their agreement. When he turns back, he drops the sticks to his plate and crosses his arms to match my position. “Whatever happened in Austin needs to stay in Austin or you deal with it. Those are your choices, brah.”

Shaking my head, I look around the restaurant, stuck in my stubbornness. Celebrities dot the landscape, but they don’t look like anything more than regular people to me. When the door opens, I look over, oddly hopeful the woman who attacked me with a hug will walk back in. She doesn’t, giving me flashbacks of another time I cared who walked through a door.

My mood sours more than it already has. “Both options fucking suck.”

“They’re no longer options, Laird,” Nikki says. “You need to take some time, go to the cabin in Deer Lake. Clear your head. Come back ready to work. We have one week off to pull it together before hitting the studio again. Nine days, to be exact. Everything hinges on you being ready.”

I thought I was, so to hear they think otherwise is a blow to my ego.

My gaze volleys between them. “You’re dead serious about this?”

Shane nods as if there’s no room for further discussion. I turn to Nikki for an appeal. “It’s Deer Lake, or pretend Austin never happened?”

“I’m afraid so.” She reaches across the table and holds her hand out. A peace offering in a negotiation I never wanted to be a part of.

Maybe I haven’t been in the best mood. I should get more vitamin D.

Maybe I’ve missed a few studio sessions and meetings. Sleep is important.

Unlike what she believes, I actually can even admit, with the amount of alcohol and other substances running through my veins, that I probably shouldn’t have been on the Coachella stage two years ago. Lesson learned.

Drinking myself into a stupor isn’t something I do anymore, at least not much, but I guess I haven’t proven it otherwise. I thought I pulled the fall off pretty fucking smoothly. Crowd-surfing while still nailing the chorus on a guitar was a first for the festival and made the covers of two music magazines. I don’t think now is the time to brag about that, though.

I place one hand over my sister’s and drag my other through my hair. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you. You’re not just my brother. You’re my twin.” She pauses, her eyes trained on our hands. “Tulsa is worried about you.”

“Your husband doesn’t need to.”

Tilting her head, she arches an eyebrow at me. “Don’t do that, Laird. He’s not only my husband and the father of your favorite niece, I might remind you, but he’s also been your defender since the Nashville incident.”

“Ah,” I snap. Sitting back, I’m fucking done with this conversation. “I was wondering how long it would take until someone brought that up.” Glancing at the plate in front of me, I realize the topic came up sooner than expected. “I usually have an opportunity to eat first.”

“There’s never a good time for this conversation, big brother. If I’m hearing about it, you need to.” My sister has a stubborn side. It’s a Faris trait, but she’s also one of the nicest fucking people on the planet despite what she’s gone through. She usually has the patience of a saint, like my mom, so when she snaps at me, I know it’s for good reason. Still doesn’t satisfy me. Nothing will, though. “What are you talking about?”

Shane sets down his second empty glass of soda, drawing my attention to the crackling ice. “You don’t think we hear about your every last fucking antic? Nikki and I get lectured every time you decide to stand us up. We hear about your ‘bad behavior,’ as they like to call it, before it hits the gossip sites.” He waves his hand between them. “We’re the ones defending you when you can’t be bothered to be a part of the band. Nikki hears about it more than I do, so lower your fucking voice and try listening for once.”

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