“Dude, when we get playing, you won’t even realize it’s hot,” Xander reminds Ben.
When we play, nothing exists but the instruments and the music… and the crowd’s cheers and singing along. There’s nothing better than hearing thousands of people singing a song you wrote.
“Let’s get this last one done. I’m wiped. I need a shower and a nap—in that order,” I announce.
“Don’t forget to hydrate,” Sera reminds me.
I hold up my bottle of water. “My third.”
She pats my cheek. “You’re such a good boy, Ethan.”
I roll my eyes.
“Xander,” Cage begins, “we should talk about your visit.”
Xan’s eyes get big. “My visit?” he squeaks.
“Mhmm. Very clever.”
“Yeah, sure,” Xander says, then walks quickly back to his drums.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Sera laughs. “I’ll tell you later.”
We jam out the last song. I think about calling Linc, but I know he’s busy, too. I send him a quick text.
Then I go and do just what I said I would: I shower then take a short nap.
22
LINC
Ethan’s lucky. His gig is tonight, Friday. I don’t fight until tomorrow night, so I’m stuck here until Sunday. I wish I could’ve flown out early tomorrow, but Coach wasn’t having any of it.
“Let’s go grab some grub,” Coach Dave tells me.
“Sounds good. I’m fucking starved. Airplane food sucks—even if it’s a private jet.”
“Don’t let Jabs hear you say that.”
I smirk. “You know if I do, he’ll make the meals even better.”
Coach gives me a look and nods. “You’re a clever and manipulative fucker. Let’s mention it when we get to the restaurant.”
I chuckle.
Jamie “Jabs” Royal’s already seated in a booth in one of our favorite low-key bar/restaurants, Bandits. It’s crowded, as usual. No one pays any attention to us. Fighters come in here all the time. It’s the go-to hangout for the Underground.
“Knox, you big beast,” Jabs says by way of greeting.
“What’s up, Jabs?”
“Just the sky. Coach,” he nods.
“Jabs.”
The waitress makes her way over. “I’ll take a large water and a large ginger ale.”
