Page 8 of Last Chance

“Look mate, I didn’t know Cassy was going to be here, I suppose I should have guessed.” He points vaguely towards me. “Her and me were a long time ago, you can’t hate me because I got to your girl before you did.”

“First things first, I am not your fucking mate.” I’ve seen Kyle Finch angry before, but this is seriously something else. He’s seething as he spits his words, his voice low and sharp. “Secondly, you don’t even get to speak her fucking name, you piece of shit. How fucking dare you flaunt so casually around here like you’re a good guy, like you love music, like you want this life when you don’t know a fucking thing.”

“Hang on, what am I missing?” I dig in, I have to, because I’m seriously confused now. Cassy’s never had a serious boyfriend apart from Finch and that Ashley guy she dated when she was seventeen. She had a few dates with some loser around the time Mum died but his name was…

Hang on.

“Oh…” The penny just dropped, Cassy looks mortified, she’s clinging to Finch’s t-shirt, desperate for his protection, his arm wraps tighter on her shoulder, like he’s a fortress or something.

“You’re the piece of shit who never called her back after the accident?” I can’t bring myself to say the night my mum died.

“He is. And it’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” Cassy protests.

“It does matter, baby.” Kyle assures my sister and I nod in agreement with him for the first time in what feels like a long time.

“You promised Frank, you’d support him and let him play.” Her voice is a warning to her beau.

“Yes, that was before I realised his favourite nephew was a piece of shit,” Finch spits, his fist clenched at his side.

“Kyle, it’s fine. Tom can introduce them. It doesn’t matter,” she says. She’s trying to be strong, I know this, Cassy. My sister is trying to make it all okay when we all know it isn’t.

“Josh,” Cassy turns her body towards him. Finch’s arm drops from her shoulder, and he already looks ready to kill him. “Josh, let me get you a drink, ignore them. You’re right we were a long time ago, and you’re right I have traded up since then.” She turns to Finch and gives him that look like he hung the sun in the sky or some shit. His whole stance softens with just one look from my sister. He’d have strung me up for behaving like this around a girl not even a year ago. He smiles wildly back at her before pulling her arm and her body moulds back into his as he kisses her lips.

I have to turn away.

“Tom will introduce Josh’s band, okay?” I hear her say and I hear an inaudible mumble from Finch.

“Okay, Max?” she addresses me, and I just turn and give her a curt nod before walking away to find myself a drink. I said I wouldn’t drink tonight. I don’t want any of these fuckers looking at me with those pathetic eyes they used on me in California. But needs must. Tom, our bassist, is chatting to some blonde at the bar and I walk towards them. He gives me a nod and reaches out his hand for me to slap, but he doesn’t pause his conversation. She looks pretty, barely his type though. I imagine he just doesn’t want to talk to me.

I don’t blame him.

I order vodka and take a seat at the bar, two stools away from Tommy and his new bird. I glance over at my sister. She’s now sitting with that absolute jerk-off Josh and it’s taking all I have to not wring his neck. As if he was the one who dumped her from a great height the night before my mum died. Actually, she was with him when it happened. He didn’t even have the grace to say sorry, but now he’s all over her like she’s God’s gift. I growl at him until my eyes catch Finch’s from across the room. His eyes are slits, and his fists are still balled. He looks ready to kill the spunky blond kid.

There’s not a lot me and Finch talk about these days but we both clearly hate this motherfucker in equal parts. He notices me watching him and walks towards me and the bar. He slams his arm down and orders a JD. Ice, no Cola. My brother’s drink of preference when he wants to get fucked up.

“If looks could kill right?” I say to Finch.

“I’d fucking kill him.” His voice is primal, a growl I don’t think I’ve heard come from him before.

“I can’t believe he’s Frank’s fucking nephew.” He doesn’t draw his eyes from Cassy.

“Well, she said she was okay to talk to him,” I warn him. He looks like he’s ready to wring the kid’s neck. I wouldn’t stop him if he did.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” He stands up, downs his drink, and at first, I think he’s going to walk over to them, but he turns and stalks out of the room, probably so he doesn’t do anything stupid. I know Cassy has seen him leave. I’m surprised there isn’t a string between them keeping them together.

Bobby walks over to me, our drummer, who is taking an evening off of playing happy families. “Dude, I know you hate it, but his guard is fucking up for her. He loves her, mate, and she adores him. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really think there isn’t two people in the world better suited for each other.” I look at him wide eyed for a few seconds. He’s always been the sensible one out of all of us. Levelling our version of crazy sometimes. A lot of it hurt. What really hurt though is that my own sister trusted the biggest thing to happen to her with Bobby and not me. She could share with him and Em and so could my apparent best friend Kyle. But neither of them could share their relationship with me.

“Bobs, it’s not that I don’t want to hear it. I’m glad she’s happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

“You just don’t want her happy with him?” he presses, and I scowl because the more I think about it the less it becomes about him and her and more about me and how I was so broken on that tour that I couldn’t be the brother either of them needed. I’m still not, I’m still a screw up.

Never have I been so pleased for my phone to ring.

“Max, my man!” Preston’s booming New York accent comes penetrating through my phone’s speaker.

“Hi, Preston,” I say loudly and wave at Bobby as I walk away to a corner of the room where none of these nosey fuckers can overhear.

“How’s it going?”

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