Page 65 of One Last Verse

“It’s not going to happen until tomorrow, Ashton.”

“I’ve got gear in the trunk. I need it for today.”

Of course, as if my life didn’t need more complications. Babysitting two grown men had never been so much fun. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I gritted out.

“You know what?” Ashton huffed. “You’re a shitty sister.”

“And you’re a shitty car owner.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and tried to think. Frank didn’t have to be at Sherman Oaks until eleven. Technically, he didn’t even need me to go with him, but last night’s drinking spree made me doubt his ability to make important decisions today.

“Okay, check the signs and talk to the attendant,” I told him on my way to the bathroom. “If the car was towed, please find out what forms of payment they take and if they can take a credit card over the phone.”

There was a message with the address of the impound lot waiting for me when I stepped out of the shower.

“Great,” I muttered, staring at the text for a good minute. Annoyance brewed in my gut.

First, I called my brother. “Do you have proof of insurance on you?”

“Umm…” He paused.

“Ashton?”

“In my email.”

“Can they take my card over the phone?”

“No, they said the credit card holder has to be there to pay in person.”

“Okay, I’ll get you an Uber and I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

Then I called Roman. “Could you please come over right now?”

“I thought Frank said ten.”

“I have to go get the stupid BMW out of impound. You’ll need to drive Frank to Sherman Oaks.” I paused to catch my breath. “He was drinking last night, so he’s probably hung over…and not in a very good mood. I’m going to go ahead and wake him so that he can get moving, but I need you to be nearby since I won’t be here.”

Roman cleared his throat. “I understand.”

“You have to make sure he’s there by eleven. Gary is leaving for New York tomorrow, so vocals must be recorded today.”

“I got you, Ms. Evans. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Frank looked frazzled when I woke him.

“I’m sorry, but you gotta get up.” I shook his shoulder lightly, my phone in my hand.

“What?” Hair mussed, face sleepy, he rubbed his eyes and absently stared at me through the shadow of his flitting lashes. His clouded gaze ran over my mouth as if I were speaking Arabic.

“Roman will be here in a bit. I’ll meet you at the studio.” I pulled the blanket aside and helped him sit up.

“What time is it?”

“It’s eight.”

Confusion crossed his features. “I thought we didn’t have to be there until eleven.”

“Don’t ever buy anything for my brother again. Asshole got the car towed.” Rolling my eyes, I nudged Frank off the bed and ushered him to the bathroom.

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