“Got a problem?” I call, and his head turns toward us.
“Not anymore. You guys ready to get the fuck out of here or what?”
“Yeah, I’ll let Oz know.” I pull my phone from my pocket and send him a text message to meet us at the car.
“I need to pay my drink tab and collect my door keep,” Bates tells us, heading our way.
A girl steps out of the room he was in and peers down the hall. I think it’s the same girl who was talking to him when we first got here. “What the hell?” I question Bates.
“No clue, man. She was back here before the show too. She said she knows one of the employees, but it’s not like it’s hard to get back here.” He glances at us as if to prove a point.
“What an asshole,” the girl grumbles bitterly.
Waylynn gasps and looks over her shoulder as Bates actually starts to laugh.
“He is not,” she defends with a bite of anger, which shuts Bates right up.
His eyes are glued to the side of Waylynn’s face like he can’t believe she’s sticking up for him. “Thank you, but I don’t care what she thinks.”
“Well I do, and she knows it’s not true.” Waylynn glares at the girl for a long second, then swings away, leaving the rest of us to watch her go. I scramble to catch up and open the door for her.
The mood in the bar has shifted. It’s louder and feels rowdier, but it could just be that I was away from it for a few minutes and I’m over this shit.
I glance over at the table we were sitting at, spying Oz still seated there. He probably didn’t feel his phone since the music is so loud. A few girls have joined the group, but none are close to my brother. I steer Waylynn in that direction with my hands seated on her hips. She changes course easily, even on crutches. “We’re getting out of here,” I tell him, speaking over a few guys.
Oswald smacks a few hands and bumps knuckles with others while saying, “I’ll see you Monday.” The spot he vacates gets swallowed up quickly by the group. It looks like they’ll be here for a while. I can’t wait to get home.
THE TRUTH ALWAYS COMES OUT
Waylynn
Sundays might bemy favorite day ever. The fact that I’m curled up between Memphis, Oswald, and Bates watching crappy television while we wait for the football games to start in a little while might have something to do with it.
Bates’ cello is propped up in the stand across the room. He promised to play for me later. I’m still trying to figure out what his favorite song will be. He seems to play a little bit of everything.
The sound of the door opening has Memphis jumping up off the couch. “Waylynn?” a familiar voice calls loudly. “There’s a work van and a truck in the driveway. Is everything okay?”
“Oh shit,” I curse under my breath. Oswald snaps his head to the left to look at me as if my words are more shocking than my mom showing up unannounced on a Sunday before noon.
“Waylynn?” she calls again.
“Hey, Mom,” I reply back loud enough for her to hear, and then I mouth, “I’m sorry,” to the guys. Oswald is completely relaxed—he hasn’t even moved other than to look at me—while Memphis still seems surprised someone came into the house.
“Do you need us to leave?” Bates asks in a rushed whisper, like he’s ready to jump up and run out the back door.
“No, just…she doesn’t know we’re…” I look around, at a loss for words.
“Living here?” Oswald offers.
“Or seeing each other,” I reply.
“Oh shit!” Oswald exclaims just as Mom enters the living room and almost jumps back when she sees us all. At least Memphis is still standing and Bates was on the other side of him, so I’m only sitting next to Oswald.
“You have company,” she remarks, shocked even though she noted there were cars here.
I lean out to grab my crutches, and Memphis has them ready for me before I can get to them. “Hey, Mom. I didn’t know you were coming to town.”
“I wanted to check up on you, surprise you,” she amends. She hasn’t even looked at me once, but the guys have all received long perusals.
