Is the fact that we were in a band surprising to anyone?
Ariana
Lil and I head downstairs as soon as I pull on a shirt and finish telling her about Luca’s almost-arranged-marriage. We find all three DeVille men waiting for us.
“Anthony, you’re with the kids. I’ll ride in one of the other cars,” Dad says in his big boss-man voice.
“Bored, Uncle Tony?” Lil smirks at him.
“Three minutes with Tina was enough to make me beg Marco to let me out of the house for an hour.”
“Let’s go, bitches,” I say, skipping out to the garage. We slide into our normal places, leaving the seat behind Lil open for Anthony. Thank god we cleaned the car out. Mostly. There’s a Tamagotchi we liberated from Parker back there somewhere. We’re not great at keeping them alive, either.
“Seatbelt, Dad,” Luca says, clicking his. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel while I wait. Once everyone is buckled in, I crank up the music, pull out of the garage, and let it fly. Two cars follow behind me. Five minutes, two songs, and seven random turns later, I feel a light tug on my ponytail frombehind me. I look up to the rearview mirror, meeting Luca’s gaze.
“Stop trying to lose them, Minx.”
I grin at him. “Gotta keep them on their toes, Beefcake.”
Lil cackles. “Dad texted me, and I quote, ‘tell Ariana to knock it the fuck off and slow the ever loving fuck down,’ so I texted him back, ‘you mad, bro?’ and I think I can see the steam pouring from his ears from here.”
“I just drove around a block for literally no reason, so he probably is, in fact, mad, bro. But fine, I’ll drive like a normal, boring person.”
Anthony laughs. “I doubt you could ever be a normal, boring person.”
When we get out of the car at the dance studio, I grin and wave, yelling, “Hi, Dad,” across the lot, then grab Lil’s hand and run for the door, both of us laughing like idiots. Dad, Luca, and Anthony file in behind us and stand against the back wall. The rest of the men take their positions at all the doors. I sigh, missing the days when only Luca came with us.
Tonight is the last class before the summer session starts up in a couple of weeks, so we spend most of the hour just fucking around, which somehow leads to a best trick competition of random shit people can do. Cartwheels turn into round-offs, some impressive stretching and splits happen, and Lil busts out some old ballet moves from when we were like nine.
I sit on the floor, my back against the mirror, with Callie sitting on my lap. Her grandma is sick, so she’s hanging with us tonight. We laugh and clap for everyone.
Luca’s been working on his blank face thing, but I know him. He’s half happy about me being able to get out of the house and half freaked out about me being out of the house.
“You should go say hi to Luca,” I whisper in Callie’s ear.
She jumps up off my lap and takes off running, her armsraised once she stops in front of him. “Luca, guess what, guess what!”
“What, goober?” He picks her up and pops her on his hip in one smooth motion.
“I get to be the flower girl when you marry Ari!”
“I know. You’re going to do a great job and be the cutest flower girl ever.”
She grabs his cheeks. “You need to come play Pretty Pretty Princess with me again soon, ‘kay?”
He nods and laughs. “Heck yeah, kiddo.”
Happy, she asks to be put down, and then she’s off telling her mom to make plans that require a babysitter.
After rocking out to one of our favorite songs on the way home, Lil says, “We should get the band back together.”
“God, no. We were terrible. You play drums like you drive cars and kept breaking them.”
“When was this?” Luca asks from the back seat.
“When we were fifteen. It lasted three months. Lisa’s mom let us practice in their garage while she sat inside with headphones on to drown us out. Bring it up to Sully. He still cringes at the memories,” I tell him.
“Ari was halfway decent on the guitar.”
