“See you around,” she said.
This was enough. He had to break free from the perpetual feeling of peanut butter holding his tongue in place. Unfortunately, that didn’t work.
Sam left and he still hadn’t said anything.
“Vhat are ve going to do vith you?” Babushka asked, shaking her head. “Sam is good person. You are good person. You come together. You have good time.”
“Why didn’t you mention Sam is a girl?” he asked, tipping his head to the side.
“Because you needed to meet her first.” Babushka lifted her eyebrows. “Now you know she is for you.”
The way she said that? A little bit of manipulation seeped into those words.
With an eyebrow waggle, Babushka left the room. He figured he had two choices. Go play backgammon red faced while embarrassment seeped into his bones. Or leave and figure out how the hell to talk to Sam without tripping over his own tongue.
So Tanner left the Purple Peony, stopped by the auto body shop to say hey to his foster dad, and beat it home to the house he shared with his buddy Mach.
Mach was more of a brother from another mother and the house was more of a mansion. Tanner didn’t get too bogged down with the details—that’s where a guy could get tangled.
When they’d joined up with Dimefront, the band had already established a wicked strong following. The guys—Linx, Bax and Knox—all took Mach and Tanner under their wings. And when Mach and Tanner proved themselves sticky, the guys bought them a house on the same street where they all lived.
Apparently, that’s what rock stars did—blew their money on big houses with connecting backyards so everyone could hang whenever.
No, the place they bought for Mach and Tanner wasn’t just a house. More like five houses all mashed up into one massive mansion.
Tanner pulled up the drive and parked his Mustang GT500 in the garage. Then he stopped, dropped his skull back on the headrest and wished he could just be normal.
Mach moseyed through the door from the kitchen to the garage trash bins with a compactor bag.
Tanner didn’t move as Mach dropped the bag in the bin, lifted his brows in Tanner’s direction, and headed his way.
Mach knew. Mach was one of two people before Dimefront that Tanner could count on. They understood each other better than either wanted to admit.
Tanner unfolded from the car. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Mach crossed his arms. “Back so soon?”
Tanner nodded. “Yup.”
“Huh.” Mach headed back inside with Tanner.
“What huh?” Tanner asked, dropping his keys and wallet in the bowl on the table right inside.
“Somethin’ happened.” Mach shrugged. He pulled open the fridge, tagged two beers, and slid one across the counter to Tanner.
“What if I don’t want to talk about it?” Tanner asked.
Mach gave him a look like he’d grown two extra heads. Fair, because Mach knew him and understood that Tanner liked to spend time at the Purple Peony because—aside from the band—it was the one place he could be himself. Complete a sentence.
A safe space where he’d made friends.
“Fine. I met a girl,” Tanner said. “Turns out their new activities director, Sam? Is a chick.”
A slow grin spread across Mach’s face. “Yeah?”
“I like her.” Tanner nodded as he popped the top off his beer.
“Yeah?” Mach said, his tone increasing in pitch.
