“Okaaaayyyy then,” Kai says, standing. “I think it’s time we end this one.” He extends his hand out to me, and I grab it, standing as he pulls me into a weird side hug thing.
“It’s okay, man. Let it go. Raithe will find his way, like the rest of us,” Kai whispers into my ear before letting me go. He follows that up with a pat to my upper arm. When did Kai become so full of wisdom and positivity, and whatisthat therapist doing to him?
“Alright, I’m gonna head out, guys. Got ahot datewith Emery.” All of our eyes shoot to him.
“Joking,” Kai says, wearing a shocked expression. “Geez, you guys are a tough crowd today. Get some rest, drink some water, touch some grass, go for a walk.” He lists them off like they are a part of his everyday routine, and I find myself wondering if they are.
“See ya, Kai. And hey … I’m proud of you,” I admit. Kai smiles, looking down at his worn black Converse as he picks at his chipped black nail polish.
“Yeah, yeah. See ya later,” he says, walking out of the room.
“Later, man!” Raithe yells.
“See ya,” Cal calls out. I turn my attention to the two men left in the room with me, deciding that I’m not ready to speak to Raithe after my outburst.
“Cal, thanks again for the security system. I owe you one. Let me know if you change your mind about Lydia. We can all grab drinks one night,” I say, eyeing Cal for a reaction. He flinches at the mention of Lydia’s name, as if I said the most offensive word in the dictionary. No, then. Got it.
“I’m gonna head out, too,” Cal says. “Got some stuff to take care of.” He looks up at Raithe and scoffs, deciding he’s also still not speaking to Raithe. Cal turns and walks out of the room. Now it’s only my brother and me.Wonderful.
“Look, man. I’m sorry for what I said about Sloa—” He stops, correcting himself. “S and L. This lifestyle works for me, okay? You guys don’t need to understand it. I work, I pay bills, I contribute to the band. Is that not enough?”
“Raithe. You’re abartender. I wouldn’t consider that—”
“Ahotbartender.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Which means I make a shit ton of tips. You forgot that I’m also an entertainer. That income is pretty legit.” I’m finding it difficult not to backhand him like our father would right about now. The memory of how traumatizing that was for all parties involved is the only thing that stops me.
“Entertainer, really? Is that what the kids are calling videoing yourself for likes and views nowadays?” I scoff.
“Kid? Really, Riv? I’m two years younger than you. Knock it off. You’re starting to piss me off.” He runs his hands through his unruly dark hair, a nervous tic that mirrors my own.
“Good, maybe you can use that anger as fuel. Raithe, if you don’t quit this shit, you’re going to end up just like—”
“Dad, right? Say it, Riven!” he spits, stepping into me. “Say it.” He’s seething. “I amnothinglike that piece of shit. He disappeared from our lives without a single word. YouknowI am not like him. Is that what you think of me?” He looks hurt. Good. I need him to feel something other than the instant gratification of a couple hundred thousand followers, or a fucking orgasm.
“Aren’t you, though?” I push, stepping into him. “The drinking, the pointless sex …”
He growls, coming at me full force. I see something flash behind his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. He’s not himself today, but that won’t stop me from kicking his ass. Maybe if I hit him hard enough, it will knock some sense into him. I meet him with a fist to the jaw, which he counters with a fist very close to my eye socket. I nearly dodge the blow, and he spits blood onto the floor over his right shoulder.
“Are you done?” I ask.
“Are you?” he counters.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
“Yes.” I look up at him. “Truce?” I ask, extending my right hand.
“Truce,” he says, extending his right. We shake, and that’s it. This is our process. We piss each other off to the point of physical violence, and then it’s out of our system for a couple of months. It’s not exactly healthy, but it’s us. Every time, I hopethat I knock some sense into him. And every time, he proves to be even more of a pain in my ass.
Here’s to hoping this time’s different.
32
Sloane
After what I discovered as the possible meaning behind the earpiece found at my father’s crime scene, I headed home to shower and wait for Lydia. She’s coming over tonight as planned, and I have so much to talk to her about. After Riven gave me Callum’s last name, it wasn’t hard for me to find a number. I could have asked for that, too, but I’m way too good at finding shit out on my own. I wasn’t even sure that Riven would give it to me. I’m sitting on my sofa, doom-scrolling on my phone, when Lydia walks right in like she owns the place.
“Lo! This security system isnice!” She brings her purse over to the counter and sets it down, moving to the sink. “I got my nails done earlier, and my hands feel weirdly sticky.” Wait, the sink. Ohshit.
I nearly choke on absolutely nothing, jumping up from the sofa to intercept her. “Uh, yeah, it really is. It’s a funny story,actually.” I pause, coughing to clear my throat. “Here, let me wash these real quick and get them out of the way.” I walk over, pushing past her to get to the sink. As I run my hands over the soapy corkscrew and ice cream scoop, images of what Riven used them to do flash through my mind. My cheeks heat at the memory. Once I’m done hand washing, I open the dishwasher and shove them both inside. This calls for a steam cleaning.
