“Macy and I need to catch up with a few people, so see you all later,” Brian said.
Jake lifted a hand to the Reynolds-Delrays; Macy didn’t return the gesture, just let her husband lead her away.
“Something’s not right there, Jake.” Branna was still watching them walk away as she spoke. Worry drew a line down her forehead.
“Think you could be onto something, Rosebud.”
“What?”
“Macy, Buster, something’s off with her.”
His friend was looking at the backs of Macy and Brian, his forehead also now creased.
“Off how?”
“She’s unhappy. I noticed it a few days ago, and looks… frozen.”
Buster looked at Branna when she finished talking. “What the hell does that mean?”
Jake stayed silent as she tried to enlighten Buster as to her concerns about Macy. The hand he didn’t hold waved about as she spoke. He liked anchoring her to him, liked that she wanted it too. Her hair hung in a long plait that he wanted to wrap around his hand to draw her in for a kiss. Then he’d remove that short scrap of material she called a dress from her lovely body. It was the color of her eyes and hung in a simple straight line down her curves, and there was nothing simple or straight about how it looked on her. It clung to the soft swell of her breasts and stopped high on her thighs, which left those long, shapely legs free for him to lust after. She was understated in what she wore, not much makeup that he could see or jewelry, just a small gold bangle and necklace, and she was the sexiest woman he’d ever known.
She’d tied him in so many knots, he’d forgotten where he began and ended. His dark places were getting lighter, and suddenly, he wanted to get out of bed in the morning. Not true, strictly speaking, as he wanted to stay in there with her, but in general, life had become worth living.
“It’s been brought to my attention that the members of our award-winning high school band of 2004 are all here in Howling tonight.”
Branna spun to look at the stage, where Mr. Hope now stood at the microphone.
“Is th-that Mr. Hope?”
Jake felt Branna’s fingers grip his tightly as she spoke.
“Yup, since he retired from teaching, he’s become the unofficial emcee in Howling,” Buster said. Unlike Jake, he hadn’t made the connection to Branna and the band of 2004.
“Don’t be shy now, you people.” Mr. Hope’s voice continued to boom into the microphone. Jake eased Branna’s nails out of his flesh as they dug in. “I taught each and every one of you in class and in band practice,” Mr. Hope added. “I know how good you are.”
“Hide me.” Branna’s voice was desperate.
“What’s the problem here, Branna?” Buster asked.
“She was in that band,” Jake replied.
“Well, shit.”
He and Buster looked around for the nearest escape route.
“Anybody see our band members?” Mr. Hope yelled so loudly that Jake winced. “Annabelle Smith and Branna O’Donnell, I know you’re out there.”
“I’m going kill Mr. Hope. I don’t care if he gave me an A in music.” Annabelle appeared before them. Unlike Branna, who was literally shocked into a statue, she was fuming. “Springing this kind of shit when neither of us have touched an instrument or played together for years. This could be a disaster. Still, at least that would ensure it never happened again.”
“I’m not going up there.” Branna found her voice.
“Where you planning to run to, O’Donnell? Your path is blocked and these people can be mean when they don’t get what they want.”
Jake watched Branna look around her at Annabelle’s words. It was crowded, but if she really wanted to leave, he’d have her out in seconds.
“Suck it up, Bran, and let’s get it over with, then I’ll buy you a beer.” Annabelle grabbed Branna’s hand.
“I hate beer, and I’m not singing.” She gripped Jake’s hand as Annabelle tried to get her moving toward the stage.
