Page 127 of Red Hot Harmony

“This looks straight up like a scene from a post-apocalyptic thriller,” Ally announced, putting one of the bandanas Cassy had given her over her mouth and nose.

The sun was a small dot perched high above our heads, and the mountains were a shapeless blur lost amidst the dark haze that had planted itself firmly into this city and the neighboring areas.

Silently, we climbed out of the car and I scanned the gallery of grime-covered shop windows and signs, trying to identify my own store.

“Holy shit,” Ally cried out and started toward the building, kicking up ash and the debris tossed across the asphalt by the wind. “Where’s my phone when I need it?!”

“Oh no!” A gasp pushed past my lips as my eyes finally locked on the familiar storefront.

There was a huge hole in the glass and even a bigger crack that ran all the way to the bottom right corner of the display.

“Fuck,” Dante cursed, finally seeing what I was seeing. “Sorry, mama.” He touched my arm.

Ally rushed to the door and wrenched it open.

A tangle of voices that came from inside snapped me out of my near-shock and I saw it then—my 4Runner, my father’s Volkswagen, and a painfully familiar Navigator. All here, lined up in front of Dream Bride, a new layer of gray flakes already sprinkled atop the roofs and windshields.

My head spun.

“Looks like the cleaning crew has already arrived,” Dante whispered into my ear and grabbed my hand.

Disaster or not, it felt natural. The press and warmth of his fingers around mine. The gentle cradle of his large, calloused palm. The solid presence of his body right next to me.

He pulled me toward the building and swung the door open for me to go in first.

I didn’t know what to expect. Tons of graffiti? Broken shelves? Stolen mannequins? Puddles of piss and puke?

Instead, I saw five figures, armed with dustpans and brooms and towels and trash bags.

A huge roll of plastic and duct tape were laid on the table next to the broken window.

“There you are!” my mother exclaimed, handing a bottle of what looked like degreaser to Ally, who rolled her eyes.

Dante stiffened by my side, his hand still clutching mine. Only, a little bit harder, as if letting go would result in something unpleasant.

Harper was wearing a pair of khakis and a tank that could have been at least twenty years old, judging by the faded color. A plaid shirt was tied around his hips. It was a shock seeing my best friend dressed like a suburban dad.

My father was all the way in the back by the sales area, equipped with a mop. He frowned gravely.

Renn was rolling a bucket, looking very much out of her element.

Malik was dusting the shelves. His T-shirt readLET ME KNOW IF MY BICEPS GET IN YOUR WAY.

I did not understand any of this.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, scanning the store, wondering if any more people were going to pop out from under the table or behind the couches. My bandana slid from my face to my chest and I was breathing the acrid air.

“Getting our business up and running,” my father croaked, studying me with his sharp eyes. “Where were you?”

“Stuck,” I muttered, praying to all the gods that existed that Malik hadn’t accidentally revealed Ally’s transgression to anyone.

I couldn’t deal with so many things at once.

Dante cleared his throat and finally unclutched his hand from mine, only to rest his palm on the small of my back as we stepped through a pile of ash on the floor.

Then all eyes were suddenly on us, curious.

“So is this the young man who didn’t show up the other day?” My mother stared up at Dante, hands on her hips, accusation on her pinched features evident.

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