Quinn paused, his eyes narrowing, and his amusement turned to concern. I couldn’t blame him. Hair aside, I was rough. I just hadn’t cared about my appearance in years, and it didn’t hurt that I’d had so many enablers. I got hired on the spot at the dealership looking like this. Of course, they were like twenty mechanics short and were careful to keep me in the far back garages, away from the customers. The bands I’d auditioned for hadn’t seemed to care either. That was no excuse. I needed to take an active approach, not only on my looks but on my health too. I’d been lazy for way too long.
“This is actually really important,” Quinn said. “You’ll want to hear it.”
What would he have to say to me now that was ‘actually really important’? My blood froze. Not…
“Grace?”
Quinn rocked back, surprised. I wasn’t sure why. Did it never occur to him that I might still have a thing for his sister?
“No. She’s fine. Great, really.”
There was a hesitation in the way he said ‘great,’ leaving room for interpretation. Was she great because her relationship with Elliott had progressed to an engagement, or was she great because she’d wisely kicked him to the curb?
“I’ve got things to do,” I said. “I’m shutting the door now. Say goodbye.”
“Come on, man. I drove all the way out here. Aren’t you the least bit curious what I have to say?”
“I think last time we talked, you said everything I wanted to hear. Look, I’m really sorry about what you went through, and I wish you luck, but you and me shouldn’t be alone together.”
“All right. Then talk to me here.”
I looked behind him, concerned that Ralph might have another psychotic episode or that Serendipity might lose her internet connection right in the middle of our conversation. Nah, a hallway chat was too risky. I opened the door wider and he stepped in, his eyes darting around the room at all my dumpster dives. Quinn wasn’t used to no-frills living. It wasn’t that I was necessarily poor; I made a decent paycheck. I’d just learned to live with the bare minimum and preferred it that way. Less stuff to gather up when I needed to disappear in a hurry.
I followed his gaze to my buckets, feeling the need to explain despite having nothing to atone for. “I can’t afford a set.”
“But you still play.” He almost sounded relieved.
I looked down at my wrapped hands. “I still play.”
“Good. I need you.”
“For what?”
“To take Brandon’s place at the drums.”
My first reaction wasn’t gratitude. In fact, it was the complete opposite. He was making fun of me. Dangling a piece of steak in front of my ravenous eyes and jerking it away just before I had a chance to sink my teeth into it.
“Fuck you, Quinn. I don’t know what your angle is, but I don’t appreciate you coming here and messing with me.”
“Look, I’m sorry for anything I’ve done to you. Obviously you hold a grudge, and that’s something we’ll have to work on, but I’m not kidding. I want you to join Sketch Monsters.”
“Sketch Monsters?” I asked, skewing my lips in irritation. “You want some guy who plays buckets to join your Grammy-winning band?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because despite everything, you’re still the best drummer I’ve ever seen. Sketch Monsters needs you, Rory.”
* * *
Like a stunned womanwhose man went down on one knee, I accepted. Yes, I’d marry Sketch Monsters. Yes, I’d take them in sickness and in health until death did us part. Yes, I’d live happily ever after in their awesomeness. And to think only a few hours ago I’d considered giving my verbal commitment to Cap’s band to be the pinnacle of my career. But this? This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Things like this didn’t happen. Not to me. I was the mole.
Wait. Shit!
Everything came to a screeching halt. I stumbled back, gripping the edge of the sofa for support. What was I thinking?
“I fucking can’t, Quinn. I’m already in a band.”
