Page 79 of The Final Deal

“He won’t,” I snarl.

His dark brow lifts, but he drops the subject. “Everything good to go?”

“Yeah. Just…” I pick at the cardboard sleeve of my coffee cup. “Just wanted to make sure you’re still down.”

He cocks his head and gives me a weird look. “We’ve been planning this for months; why would I back out now?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Maybe you came to your senses or something.”

“Ha! No way I’m backin’ out.”

“You shouldn’t even fuckin’ be here.”

Charlie and I both twist our necks to find none other than Denver, lead asshole of Tainted Memories, with a cigarette dangling from his lips under a dark mustache, glaring at us. His light brown hair is hidden beneath a black beanie, and though the death metal logo-like script on his throat is prominent, the rest of his tattooed muscles I’ve seen in concert photos frombasically every social media platform and music news outlet are hidden underneath all black clothing and a jacket. For once.

He lifts a tattooed hand, plucks the burning paper from his mouth, and blows out a cloud of smoke that’s as obnoxious as the one-inch gauges in his ears. “Abjured takin’ advantage of my girlfriend’s suicide isn’t something to be proud of.”

“Hey, man, it ain’t like that,” Charlie insists.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Denver snaps loudly, garnering attention from groups nearby. “We still could’ve played.”

“Denver, look,” I start. “Your manager pulled y’all off the bill since y’all have a lot of heat?—”

“You mean your brother has a lot of heat,” he yells. “So just pull the plug on the ‘troublemakers,’ right?”

As much as I want to say yes, that Denver is the biggest troublemaker in the scene, Robbie steps in, pushing past me and placing himself in between us.

“You got a problem, then take it up with me,” Robbie warns.

“Denver, please don’t start.”

Brandy’s voice is concerningly gentle as she comes into view, her expression earnest. “Tainted needed to mourn Taylor.Youneeded to mourn Taylor.”

Denver starts to open his mouth, but then his angry blues flash downward to her swollen pregnant belly. His blue eyes widen, jaw clicks shut—and, for once, he goes completely, utterly silent.

“Really?”

I catch a quick glimpse of Robbie’s disgusted expression as he spins around and stomps away. Brandy chases after him, pulling him aside. “Rob, Robbie, please?—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it!”

Their argument hushes to furious whispers, pitching every few words. I don’t know what’s going on, but it definitely isn’tany good with the way Robbie’s face reddens and eyes turn glassy.

“W-when’s she due?” Denver asks quietly, refusing to let his eyes wander from Brandy.

“Uh, March. Why?”

He doesn’t say anything else, only watches Brandy and Robbie quietly argue near a bus.

“Look, I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but Brandy’s right: y’all needed to take a break. I’m really sorry about what happened with Taylor…”

Robbie pulls away from Brandy and storms off as she cries, “Robbie, I’m sorry!”

I cast Charlie an apologetic look before running after my brother. He’s fast, but I pump my legs a little harder to catch up and grab his arm.

He slows gradually until he stops. He swipes a hand over his face and slowly turns to face me.

“What the hell was all that?” I question. Peering down the way, where Brandy runs off, and Denver chases after her.

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