Page 21 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

There’s an explosion of noise from the crowd, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as Dave taps his drumsticks together. We’re off with our first song of the night—the first song on our debut album that went gold—and the crowd is insane. I don’t know if I’ll ever tire of this. The adrenaline rush of being on stage playing the music I helped write. That the four of us brought into existence with nothing but willpower and luck.

And I can’t believe I get to do it with my best friend.

Don’t get me wrong. We’re all a family, the girls too. Becks and Izzy? I’d do anything for them. But Key is like my brother. The other half of me. And while I know we give each other a hard time, that’s only because we know how much to push. That it’s all in good fun, and even though we disagree on a lot of things, I’ll never forget the way everything changed when he walked into my life.

* * *

Four poundsof superhot wings later, it’s two in the morning and I’m only just starting to come down from the high of performing. I might also be another type of high after smoking a joint with James in the alley behind the bar. But my whole family is here and happy. James sits with his arm around Becks, whose head is nuzzled into his neck, her eyes droopy from the late hour. Izzy and Dave are in their own little world, her knees propped up over his thigh like they’re the only two people in the room.

It makes me think of Cherry. Or Snuggle. Or whatever her real name is. I wonder briefly if she’s working tonight. What kind of call center does she work for? And what place requires her to work at night? I briefly imagine her dealing with irate customers over their faulty VCR equipment and have to stifle a laugh.

“Hey,” Key says as he wipes his face with a napkin. “What’s funny?”

“Just thinking of how much you’re going to regret that hot sauce in a few hours. At least our toilets are still working.”

Izzy scrunches her face. “Ew.”

But Dave narrows his eyes. “Why wouldn’t the toilets be working?”

James is staring at me now too, and I shrug. “Just a little problem with the plumbing, that’s all.”

“What kind of problem?”

Key licks his fingers and wipes them on a napkin. “Washing machine exploded.”

“Exploded?” James says a little too loudly, jolting Becks awake.

“Shut up. You’re so dramatic,” I say. “It didn’t explode. The hose burst.”

Dave rubs his forehead. “For fuck’s sake. Are you getting it fixed? You know my name is still on the lease for another three months.”

I wave my hand. “Yeah yeah, don’t worry about it. We’ve got it under control.”

“A plumber is coming out later in the week to fix it,” Key explains.

“Please tell me you took any wet clothes out so they aren’t rotting in the washing machine,” Becks asks, cringing now.

“Yes, Becks, the clothes are fine,” I drone. “I took them to a laundromat.”

“Really?” she asks.

Again, a grin pulls at my cheeks and I can’t stop myself. Key crosses his arms, but Becks looks concerned.

“Yeah, really. Don’t look so surprised. I am capable of being an adult sometimes.”

“Only when he needs clean underwear,” James chimes in.

“Are you all out?” Dave asks. “Is that why you guys didn’t bring any girls out tonight?”

I think about Cherry and suddenly realize I haven’t thought about any other girl since a certain beautiful redhead came back into my life. But it is unusual for Key, that liar. Iknewhe was in a funk.

“Bit worn out from the last one,” Key says casually and flicks me a knowing stare.

“Okay, I know that look,” Dave says, sliding out of the booth. “We’re out of here before I hurl up a pound of wings listening to the details of your . . . escapades.”

He pulls Izzy by the hands and wraps his arms around her waist from behind.

“It would serve you right after all the nights we’ve had to listen to you two going at it,” Key volleys back. “And you two aren’t any better,” Key interrupts James as he opens his mouth, who promptly shuts it and turns to Becks. But his face softens when he looks at her, and they share some silent communication through their eyes.

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