Page 5 of Never To Suffer

Yo,LA Proper!

Is this your lucky day, or what? You’re now part of the show and the first ever Sink The Rich (subject to change) tour!

Below, you’ll find a list of tour dates, venues, and information (all subject to change, so make sure you sign up for our…)

“Sink the rich?” Rory asks from somewhere behind me.

Connor laughs at points at the anthropomorphized punk rock orca jumping onto a yacht. “That’s so fire! What does it mean?”

“How are we almost the same age and yet sometimes I feel like I don’t understand anything you’re saying?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“Only child?”

“Oy. Okay, remember the orcas that were sinking all those fucking yachts a while back?” Noah snickers as she explains it to him as if he were five. “And how the yacht rock bros all think they’re so punk and alternative. It would have been funny like four years ago.”

“My dad listens to yacht rock,” Connor adds, shoulders slumping for a moment before he laughs again. “I’m gonna buy him a shirt with the logo on it. He’d get the humor.”

“They’ll change the name if it gets big enough. Something even more lame, like ALTour or some shit.” I’ve been hanging around too many marketing and design firm people. I skim the rest of the email and look up at everyone hovered over me. “Guys, they want us to do three sets for the first event. Three! Are we gonna get anything played today, or should I call and tell Megan we’ve reconvened at the office?”

“OFFICE!” Connor and Noah shout together, while Rory groans and heads to the corner with her bass. She grabs her phone and starts rapid fire texting someone, but shoves it in her pocket when I’m a few steps away.

“See you there?” I ask and offer a smile and a wave. She only grunts back.

“Hey, I uhm, I know you’re not thrilled about canceling rehearsals and all. I get that. But right now, hammering out logistics might be wiser, and you’re better at that than Noah and I.” If I stop and imagine what it’s like talking to an active volcano, I’d picture Rory as the volcano. I’m never sure if it’s going to blow up in my face or gurgle at me to remind me I’m insignificant. “Look, dumb question, but, uhm, you and Megan?—”

“What about it?”

“What? Oh, I mean, I don’t…How did the interview go? She worked at the bar last night, so I didn’t get to see her.”

“It went fine. I’ll see you at the bar,” she snaps, grabbing her gear and marching through the door.

“Okay. Cool. Cooooool,” I mumble, following Connor and Noah out.

“What was that all about?” Noah asked, nodding toward Rory as she closed the trunk and climbed into her fancy sports car.

“Not sure, but Megan interviewed with her the other day and didn’t come home.”

“Duuude,” Connor’s eyes go wide. “Do you think Rory murderated her? Sucked her blood out and dropped her in a dumpster?!”

Noah slaps him in the back of the head and tells him to get in the car while I keep an unreadable face. They don’t need to know I imagined that scenario last night. Rory would make a terrible vampire, though. Because an accountant by day and vampire by night? Lame.

The local dive bar. Or our office, as we like to call it. The place reeks of stale beer, my shoes stick to the floor, and the pool tables haven’t seen better days since at least twenty years ago. But, the bartenders know us, don’t water down the drinks when we’re broke, and never kick us out when we take over a table for a few hours to talk business. In fact, the second we walk in we’re greeted by Bobby, a giant of a man that makes my gym bunny bestie, Steve, look like a sick puppy.

“LA PROPER!” His deep voice fills the room, drawing the letters out for emphasis and turning the few heads hiding in the dark corners. “Hey, did y’all see the competition shit going on? Some little fucker came in yesterday and wanted to put flyers up. I told him not to bother. LA Proper was gonna win the whole fuckin’ thing.”

“Aww, this is why we love you, Bobby!” I jump up and give him a hug.

“Drinks all around!” Connor announces as he raises his arms. Bobby gives him a look and Connor clears his throat. “Well, around the table we’ll be sitting at.”

“You got it. Bucket o’ brews, coming your way.”

“Where’d Rory go?” Connor asks an hour later when Bobby comes by, drops the third bucket of ice and bottles in front of us, and retreats to his corner of the bar to watch baseball. He’s great at keeping the table stocked but not interrupting the process—or missing a pitch.

“I dunno, she dipped like ten minutes ago,” Noah answers. She looks around the room and shrugs.

“Maybe she went to find Megan. Didn’t you say she’d be here in like twenty minutes?” I check my phone but find no messages. “Well, whatever. We have a plan even without their help. Connor, you’re on transportation and lodging.”

“10-4, Captain.”

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