Page 1 of The Second Deal

Chapter1

Welcome Home

–HellYeah

Stagelightswhirl over the crowd, hypnotic blue and green and magenta highlighting a sea of devil horns and arms waving back and forth to the beat of a metalcore song.Fourbodies move on one of the smallest stages available inSanAntonioand headbang along with fans singing and screaming lyrics right back to them.

Myfingers tap the same chords against my thigh likeI’vegot strings and a fretboard in hand.

LikeIhaven’t gone a year and a half without playing.

Adrian, ever shirtless and displaying an assortment of new tattoos, breaks a drumstick on swinging cymbals.Halfof it whizzes past heads into the crowd.Hegrimaces and reaches for a new one at the side of his set without missing a beat.

Histwin brotherZakpulls away from a girl trying to yank him off stage while shredding his guitar.Acymbal stand jerks when he takes a couple of steps back and runs into it.

MybrotherRobbiekeeps running intoShannon, threatening to impale the tall and lanky vocalist on the neck of his bass or kick him off the stage entirely.

Adrian’sother drumstick splits in two and dingsRobbieon the head.

Robbiespins around and shouts something unintelligible beneathShannon’sscreams cutting through the atmosphere.Adrian’smouth puckers into an angry frown, and he givesRobbiea tattooed middle finger as his other hand wails on a china cymbal.

Robbiestops playing entirely.

Heyanks the strap over his head, seizes the neck of his shimmering blueIbanezbass in both hands, and hammers it right into the shattered clock printed on the kick drum.

Anear-piercing shriek slices through the speakers and the music screeches to a halt.

“Fuckyou!”

Adrianleaps over his kit and cymbals fall.Metalcrashes and clangs against the hard surface of the stage, sending an electrical surge of goosebumps through my skin.

Robbiethrows the first punch, butAdrianducks and bum rushes his shoulder intoRobbie’sgut.Mybrother is slightly taller and definitely stockier thanAdrian, but the drummer’s lean figure packs serious muscle from drumming since he realized he could bang sticks against shit to make noise.ThewayRobbievisibly loses his breath when he flies into the side stage wall from the sheer brute force makes me cringe.

Shannonhurries to tug his brother-in-law offRobbie, butZakelbowsShannonaside.Hislong hair is already tied up on top of his head and tattooed arms with new muscles are ready to kick ass the second he grabsRobbie, slams him to the floor, and pummels the shit out of him alongsideAdrian.

Shannontakes a couple of steps back, scrubbing a hand over his face.Hisshaggy blond hair clings to his sweaty forehead and frames a look of irritation.

Hemust’ve realized they’re still in the middle of a gig when his hazel eyes sweep over the crowd.Hislips move, saying, “Oh, shit,” before bringing the mic to his lips. “Sorry, y’all.Lookslike the show’s over.”

Thecrowd groans and jeers.Acouple of long-time fansIrecognize toss plastic cups of beer at the fighting trio before climbing on stage to try and break things up, themselves.

Shannonnotices me in the back, his expression flickering between excitement, disbelief, and shame before he mouths, “I’msorry.”

“JesusfuckingChrist,”Imutter under my breath, wondering where the fuck everything went so wrong.

Brandyleans toward me and says loudly, “Itold you it was bad.”

Iknock back the rest of my beer and turn away. “I’llsee you atMom’s.”

Idon’t bother looking back, leaving the shouting and racket behind as the doors close.

Thedeep breathItake outside in downtownSanAntoniois anything but refreshing in the stifling summer heat.It’snot as humid as whereIjust arrived from, but it is a hell of a lot hotter, making sweat form and collect in all the uncomfortable places.Itie up my long blond hair in a messy bun to let the sweaty back of my neck air out asIhead a couple of blocks down to the parking lot to grab my car.

Myphone buzzes and pings in my hand right asIreach my blueHondaCivicthat’s in desperate need of someTLCafter the long-ass drive.Theface that pops up on screen is the last oneIsaw inAtlantawho demanded one moreWaffleHousedate beforeIheaded out, even if it was four in the morning.

Makeit in one piece?

Istart texting back asIclimb into the car.

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