Page 8 of Speak of the Devil

Laird grabs ice from the cooler to run over his shoulder. “Especially in Arizona.” His guitar was left on stage, but the strap left its mark across his body, his neck rubbed raw. My cousin slips on a shirt that a roadie tossed him, then grabs another bottle of water to finish off.

Nikki kicks the toe of her shoe against her brother’s, and asks, “How many shirts have you guys gone through on this tour?”

“Too many,” I joke, wondering why no one tossed me a replacement. “Laird’s end up on auction sites while mine end up in bed with hot-as-fuck women. I consider it a service to sacrifice my garments for their sexual pleasure.”

“Disturbing,” she adds, laughing right after.

“And fucking lies. My shirts make it home with plenty of women. I just don’t keep track anymore. Why would I when I have the best wife a guy could ask for waiting for me at hom?—”

I shove him sideways. “What happened to you, man? You used to be fun.”

“Now he’s in love,” Nikki says, turning just in time to end up in her husband’s arms.

Where the fuck did Tulsa Crow come from?

Lifting our lead singer, he kisses her. He’s a cocky and sneaky fucker, but we all get along, which is good since he’s a part of the family now. She wraps herself around him, and they kiss again like they just met, though they’ve been married for years. He says, “You were amazing on that stage, darlin’.”

I’m with Laird, looking anywhere but at the lovebirds. She is my cousin, and I have no interest in seeing her make out with her husband. I can imagine it’s worse for Laird. Realizing he’s also a traitor, leaving me wingman-less and kicking it with the honeys on my own these days, I don’t know how to feel lately. I’m the band's third member, but I’m starting to feel like a fifth wheel in our lives.

The three other members of The Crow Brothers band saunter over to hang at the side of the stage with us before they’re announced to go on. Thank fuck. This whole lovey-dovey scene was getting on my nerves.

“How is it out there?” Jet asks, trying to catch a glimpse of the audience.

When Tulsa sets my cousin down, she tugs at her skirt, and replies, “Considering the heat, they’re fantastic. I’d keep an eye out for any heat-related situations. Medics are standing by.”

“Okay, I will.” Since he’s front and center playing guitar and singing, he’ll have that same view she had on stage. We’ve toured the past three summers with them since they’re practically family, with Nikki and Tulsa being married and having a kid. It brought the Faris family and Crows together. The two bands touring to support each other was a natural step. But we should step into the headliner spot in the lineup next time.

With an album sitting on the charts, we’ve earned the spotlight.

Laird hits my arm. “Let’s go.” Turning to his sister, he asks, “Are you flying home with Tulsa or us?”

“Are you leaving now?” she asks. Laird and Nikki can’t be visually more different even though they’re twins, but Laird and I have a few similarities in our coloring and build. It makes sense that we didn’t fall far from the Faris family tree when it came to genes.

“I’m ready to go,” I respond, flexing my fingers so they don’t tighten up on me or scab over too quickly. “My hand is busted, and I barely have the energy to stand upright.” Seeing red snake through my fingers, I try to find something to wipe the blood away. “We haven’t had enough time between gigs to let it heal.”

She looks at me, and sympathy creases the corners of her eyes. “You guys go ahead. Get back and get some rest. I’ll fly back with Tulsa.” She studies my hand, and her expression falls into concern weaving through her forehead. “You’ll take care of this before you leave?”

“Yeah,” I lie, the blatancy needed to get back home quicker.

Laird and Nikki exchange a look before he says, “We’ll see you back in LA.”

They lean in to hug but then stop. “Ew.” She laughs, pushing her brother away. “We’re too sweaty for that. Safe travels.”

Laird and I head to the dressing room to grab our stuff. He asks, “You’re not bringing any chicks, right?”

Pulling a tee over my head, I then close my bag. “Nah, not in the mood.” I clean my hands to prep for new bandages, but I might let the fresh air heal me instead and deal with the rest tomorrow.

He chuckles, grabbing hold of his bag. “There’s a first for everything.”

“You’re rubbing off on me, asshole. I used to be fun, getting laid and then skipping town. Now I’m becoming as boring as you without the perks of going home to someone.” I follow him out the door with my bag thrown over my shoulder. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how fast you’re ready to jet after each stretch of shows.”

“Since Poppy is pregnant with twins, the doctor ruled out flying to our shows.” Still walking toward the door, he looks back at me. “Not going to lie, I can’t wait to see her. I missed years loving that woman. I’m not going miss more than I need to for work.”

Work?If that’s all our struggles, efforts, and hard work are to him now, where does that leave me? I was warned about this part of growing up when I was a teen. My dad once told me to enjoy it now because one day I’ll look around and everything will have changed. I just never saw it coming.

The sun is finally setting, but the temperatures are still blazing hot. The desert is quite the sight at sunset. Shades of orange and yellow blend into the remaining blue skies as we head to the SUV waiting to take us to the airport. I toss my bag in the back. The driver dips in to straighten our bags while we take over the second and third rows. After we settle in, I say, “Can I ask you something without you giving me shit for it?”

“I can’t make that deal with you,” he says behind a laugh. When I look back at him, Laird throws his hand between us. I slap mine against his. He adds, “You know you can trust me, Shane. Family first, always.”

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