Page 13 of Verses

“What’d you play?”

He took in a deep breath of air before answering. “Guitar.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait. Would you—”

“Nope. Not interested. I miss that shit, but not enough to do what you guys do every night.”

I sat up straighter, as if appearing taller in the stool would make my words more compelling. “Why not?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Yes.”

He looked over at the stage before shifting his eyes back to mine. “How much time do you think you guysactuallypractice? Would you say it’s about an hour for every four or five you’re here? Would that be fair?”

What was he saying? “Are you accusing us of goofing off?”

“No, not at all. But you guys fight like cats and dogs. You argue about every little thing—or debate the hell out of it. That doesn’t sound fun to me. If I played…I’d just want to play.”

“That’s not fair. We don’t argue all the time.” He cocked his eyebrow at me again, and I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to make me feel, but my skin suddenly felt warmer. “Okay, so last night maybe.”

“You guys did when Liam was here too. It was a little more civil, a lot more productive—but I’ll be damned if you guys wouldn’t argue for hours about all kinds of shit. I don’t want any part of that.”

“Suit yourself.” My feelings were a little miffed because, for a brief second, I’d allowed myself to believe Wolf would like being in our band.

But maybe he was right. Maybe we were too damned dysfunctional.

Maybe Kyle had been right all along.

“Now,” he said, breaking through my thoughts. “If there was a band that just wanted to play…I might consider it. I actually miss playing with a group, and I hadn’t thought much about it until you asked.”

“So what if we could get our shit together?”

“That’s a pretty bigif. And how do the guys feel about you speaking on their behalf?”

I would have lied…if Adrian and Pedro hadn’t walked through the front door before I could say anything else.

CHAPTER 5

Fortunately, Wolf’s eyes alerted me to the fact that we were no longer alone. Not that we had been entirely alone anyway—but, unlike the barflies, my band members had a stake in our conversation.

Technically.

But I hadn’t even told the guys what I’d been trying to talk Kyle into. And now was just as good a time as any. “Hey, guys,” I said, nodding at Adrian and Pedro. “Can I buy you a beer?”

“Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?” Pedro, our bassist quipped, his brown eyes sparkling.

Pedro was a funny guy who was always trying to crack people up—and I hadn’t heard that one before. Both Wolf and I laughed as I pulled my debit card out of the little slot in my phone.

Adrian, however, wasn’t laughing. Our quiet drummer was the one guy who seemed to be growing weary of all the fighting and debating. The poor guy just wanted to play. “Yeah. I think I’m gonna need at least a six-pack to deal with Kyle’s shit tonight.”

Wolf asked me, “Am I serving them the cheap shit or—”

“I don’t care. Whatever you guys want.”

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