Page 4 of Not Mine to Keep

“Sorry,” she said to him. “I’m coming.”

I watched her walk away, and she shot me a quick backward glance before ascending the steps to the stage.

A guitar was handed to her, and she looped the strap over her shoulder before standing at a microphone next to the band’s lead performer.

I looked around in search of the mystery man in the suit who’d been watching her before. He now had his back to one of the pillars with a plate of food in hand, casually observing the stage.

Who’s your father? And why in hell would you think he sent me here?

I reached for my burner while waiting for the band to start, unsure what to think. Nothing from the man who’d summoned me yet. I swapped that phone for my personal one. I’d gone all day without being bothered by my family because it’d been off, but I’d forgotten I had powered it back on to identify the name of that song at the bar.

I opened the group text with my brothers and sister: Constantine, Enzo, and Izzy.

Izzy:Why are you in Nashville? And why aren’t you answering our calls?

I groaned, casting a quick look at the stage, and when the band started to play, I realized if I wanted to preserve my hearing, I’d best back up from the nearby speakers.

Me:Did you track me?

Izzy:Wouldn’t need to if you told us where you were or answered a call.

Me:I have a thing.

Enzo:In Nashville? What kind of thing?

I couldn’t answer that because they’d lose their minds if they found out who’d forced me to attend this event.

Me:I’m at a fundraiser for veterans. Owed someone here a favor. Plan to make a large donation.

I peered at the one wall of displayed items that were open for bids. I wasn’t sure what I’d be buying, but I was a man of my word, so yeah, I’d be making a big-ass donation. At least it wasn’t the kind of bidding that had landed Maddox married back in the day—winning a date or something like that. Or so the story went.

Me:I have to go. Stop tracking me.

Constantine:Stop ghosting us then.

Me:Clearly the intern you must be dating that’s half your age is rubbing off on you ... I mean ... ghosting? Really? That or you’ve been watching a little too much of the clock app.

Constantine:I don’t screw around with our interns, and you know that. And I don’t do social media, so I have no clue what you’re talking about. But given how often you wind up with your photo online, if I were you ...

He left me to fill in the dots. Typical Constantine.

Me:Maybe you need to be screwing someone instead of worrying about where I’m at.

I liked to ruffle my older brother’s feathers. I couldn’t help it. Even if I was nearly in the same age bracket of over-the-hill forty as him.

Me:I need to go. It’s impolite to be texting while at a charity event.

Enzo:Fine. But I’ll have the little jet on standby (since you took the bigger one) in case you need to be bailed out for doing God knows what while down there.

Izzy:Maybe he’s there for a girl.

Enzo:Alessandro wouldn’t even travel to another borough in NY for a girl. You think he’d fly to TN for one?

And my younger brother loved to give me as much grief as I gave Constantine. It was the circle of life, I supposed.

Me:Goodbyeeee.

I turned off my phone so they couldn’t bug me anymore and focused on the band. Well, on Callie softly singing behind the lead singer; her fingers moving perfectly over the strings of her guitar. A true pro, from the looks of it.

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