Kellan (8 page)

“Hey.” Justin feigned indignant and I knew the ice had thawed. “Don’t knock this bucket of bolts.”
 

I put my hands up in surrender and leaned back in my seat. The motion lights went on at the front porch. The rest of the house was dark.
 

“Is he home?” Justin asked.
 

“Who knows?” I said. “He had an appointment this afternoon at the V.A. They’re trying to pull his benefits again.”
 

“What now?” Justin asked.
 

I shrugged. “He keeps blowing off the doctor’s office. Something about him needing an annual check-up to stay eligible.”
 

“So how the hell does he think the bills are going to get paid if they cut him off? Does he give a shit about putting food on the table or buying clothes for Mitch?”
 

I didn’t answer him. I kept my eyes on the house. I saw a faint blue glow coming from the family room and figured my dad had probably passed out with the TV on again.
 

“Right,” Justin said. “You want me to talk to him?”
 

I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. “Right. Like that’s ever helped. And don’t worry about Mitch. He doesn’t need to know about any of this and I can take care of him too. I always have.”
 

Justin stopped twirling the keys and gripped the steering wheel again. “You know, Mal, you’re more like him than you want to admit.”
 

My blood rose. I dug my nails into my palms and took a breath. “We’re nothing alike, Justin.”
 

“Right. Let’s see. You’re both stubborn as mules. You’d rather gnaw your own arms out of a bear trap than let somebody else help you out.”
 

I didn’t want to listen to another word. We’d had this same argument a million times. I shoved the door open and slammed it back shut. I leaned in through the car window.
 

“You’re right, Justin. We probably would. But see, usually the guy that knows how to spring the trap is the one who set it in the first place.”
 

He rolled his eyes and jammed the keys back into the ignition. The van started back up with a lurch. I slapped the car door and gave Justin a half-assed salute. He was already smiling when he looked back at me.
 

“Get some sleep, smart ass,” he said. “We’ve got a show the day after tomorrow and a contract to sign!”
 

I blew him a kiss. “I knew you’d come around. I knew you still loved me. It’s going to be great, Jus. Promise.” Then I crossed my heart and held two fingers up in a brownie salute. He smiled back and gave me a middle-fingered salute which only made me laugh harder.
 

I turned back toward the house and made my way up the porch. The front door was unlocked and I grit my teeth. I’d warned Mitch a thousand times to lock it after dark.
 

The house was quiet except for the slow drip of the kitchen faucet. I walked through the living room and went to the sink to tighten the handle. The sink was filled with dirty dishes from this morning and a trickle of water spread across the floor.
 

“Dammit,” I whispered, wrenching the faucet hard. I threw a towel on the floor and resolved to fix the leak in the morning.
 

The house smelled like burnt popcorn. The glow of the TV came from the back room and I went out to shut it off. My father lay sprawled out in his lazy boy, an empty beer bottle in one hand and six more empties on the floor beside him. I leaned down and gathered them one by one, tossing them into the recycling bin by the garage door. Then I went back and put my hand against his cheek. He snorted and stirred a little but didn’t wake up. He was still wearing the same flannel pants from when I saw him this morning. It meant he hadn’t left the house.
 

I grabbed a crocheted blanket off the couch and covered him with it then clicked off the television. His phone lay beside him blinking. I picked it up and tapped the screen. He had six missed calls and three voice mails. The lady from the V.A. calling, no doubt. Shit. There was another thing I’d have to try and fix in the morning.
 

I leaned down and kissed him on the head before heading down the hallway to Mitch’s room.  His door was wide open which meant he’d waited for me. I tapped on it softly, just in case he’d fallen asleep.
 

“Hey, Stink,” I whispered. No response. I walked into the room, stepping lightly to avoid Legos, his iPod, two popcorn bags, and whatever else he had scattered around. I’d just cleaned it this morning.
 

Mitch slept curled on his side with his leg dangling from the bed. Just like when he was a baby. Though back then, I’d find his chubby little foot poking out the slats of his crib. I grabbed his ankle and tucked it under the covers just like I did back then. He stirred a little and snorted, just like his father. I leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of his head, smoothing back his thick brown hair.
 

“You need a haircut, Stink,” I whispered.
 

“Do not,” he croaked, making me smile.
 

“Hey, it’s a million o’clock. You’re supposed to be sleeping.” I perched on the edge of his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.
 

Mitch rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up blinking. He had wide, expressive eyes that always showed what he was thinking. Our mom’s had been like that. Other things about my brother were like her too. Little things that I imagined no one else but me remembered. Mitch’s nails were flat and wide like hers, with deep ridges in them. He had dark blond hair like hers with patches of white blond at the temples and at the dead center of a widow’s peak on his forehead. He flinched when I reached out to smooth his hair back again so I could see it.
 

“How’d it go?” he asked, yawning.
 

I shrugged. “Pretty good, I think. Sorry it’s so late. Please tell me you had something more to eat for dinner than what was inside those two empty popcorn bags on the floor.”
 

Mitch rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Okay. I had more to eat than that.”
 

“How was he tonight?”
 

“Quiet,” Mitch answered. “He was in the chair by the time Chris’s mom dropped me off from practice. They asked me to sleep over.”
 

“Why didn’t you?”
 

He shrugged. “I said I would tomorrow night, instead. I wanted to hear about your thing.”
 

I smiled and planted my hands on the side of the bed. I wanted to hug him but at twelve and a half, we were in a phase where such a thing would gross him out.
 

“It was good, Mitch. Really, really good. They want us back Friday night and want to pay us to play there every weekend.”
 

“Shit, how much?”
 

“Hey! Can you at least pretend you don’t know how to swear? Then I can pretend you’re not getting too corrupted by the dysfunctional lifestyle in which we’ve been raised.”
 

“Fair enough.” Mitch smiled and broke into a horrible fake British accent. “So how much shall they pay thee for singing, Lady Mallory?”
 

I laughed. “I think I liked it better when you were just a potty mouth, smart ass. And it’s rude to ask how much people make. But it’s more than we usually make. By like a lot. And why are you so concerned about that all of a sudden?”
 

Mitch’s face went dark. “Coz he blew off his appointment again and the lady called and said his checks are going to stop coming after next month.”
 

I blew a breath out hard and my heart lurched. I hadn’t realized Mitch had been paying that close attention. Which was stupid of me. Of course he was. I’d been doing the same thing since I was even younger.
 

“Will it be enough?” Mitch said. His questioning eyes broke my heart. “We got one of those pink bills from the electric company again.”
 

I dropped my head. When I raised it, I gave him a smile. “Yeah. For a little while, at least. I think it will be more than enough.”
 

Mitch’s face stayed hard. “Don’t bullshit me, okay?”
 

“Fine,” I smiled. I pulled the paper Kellan gave me out of my back pocket and handed it to Mitch. He reached over and turned on his bedside lamp. Squinting hard, he waited until his eyes adjusted to the light. When they did, a slow smile spread across his face. The number was big. Big enough to change things, at least for a little while.
 

“The Great Wolves?” he asked, reading the whole page. “Is that the same people who opened up the gym near the docks? A couple of guys on my team have been working out over there. They say it’s pretty sweet.”
 

I shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, I think so.”
 

“Huh.” Mitch ran his finger over the dollar figure on the page and his smile got wider. I loved seeing the bright look on my brother’s face. Still, a small hard pit formed in my stomach at everything Justin had said. This was good. Almost too good. It would take me a while to trust it but for now, it didn’t look like I had a choice. Kellan Carter and the Great Wolves just might be a way out for now. But Justin was probably right too. Too good to be true usually meant it was.
 

Chapter Eight

Our first weekend performing, the crowd at
The Wolf Den
was even bigger than the first. Word had spread. We’d done something special and people lined up to check us out. As I waited backstage for my cue, I almost wished we’d held out for a bigger number. Depending on how tonight went, maybe there’d still be time to negotiate.
 

“Hot damn,” Bruno jumped on the balls of his feet next to me. “This is real, isn’t it? We’ve never played to a crowd this big. At least, not one that wasn’t made up of drunk-ass college kids with no money to spend.”
 

I smiled up at him and slapped him on the back. “Go out there and lay it down, Bruno.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows at me then damn near skipped out behind his drum kit. Tim followed right after him leaving Justin and me in the wings together.
 

Justin’s face was stone cold. He tightened one of his strings then gave me a look.
 

“What?”
 

He shrugged. “Just trying to see where your head is tonight.”
 

I raised my shoulders. “My head’s where it always is, Justin. Just do your thing and I’ll do mine.”
 

He shot me a shit-eating smile that he knew got a laugh out of me every time. It was the same one he gave to the girls in the crowd and made them melt. And there were a lot of those out there tonight.
 

“Are we all finding our own rides home tonight, rock star?” I asked him. “What makes me think you’re going to want your love mobile all to yourself?”
 

Justin laughed but he didn’t argue. “You’re so full of shit,” I teased him. Bruno beat his sticks together. Tim picked up the bass line. We were opening with “Satisfaction.”
 

“It’s okay,” I said. “I saw that girl from the front row last night. She’s over at the bar. She’s cute, Justin. You should go for it.”
 

Bruno joined in with Tim. A few people out in the crowd had already started to clap along, recognizing the bass line.
 

“Yeah? Maybe I will. Can I trust you to behave yourself if I cash in on that?”
 

I put my head on his shoulder and batted my eyes up at him. “You know you can always trust me. I’m the responsible one, remember?”
 

“Sheee-it.”
 

“Seriously, it’s cool. Go have your fun. I’ll get home.”
 

Justin shook his head. “We’ll see. I’m thinking I’ll just give you the keys and I’ll find my own ride home. You think you can handle driving the love mobile?”
 

“Yeah. Though I might take it to a junkyard and trade it in for a ten speed. That’s about all it’s worth.”
 

He reached down and gave my nose a tweak. Then he lifted his fist and held out his knuckles. I laughed and pressed my fist against his.
 

“Kill ’em, Mallory.”
 

“You know I always do.”
 

Then Justin hopped out on stage and strummed the melody as he waited for me to step out into the spotlight. I took a deep breath and blew it out. I went up on the balls of my feet and shook my fingers out along with the butterflies that were always there. I craned my neck to the left, then to the right. Justin turned, pointing the neck of his guitar offstage and straight at me. He shot me a wink that I knew a few women in the front row probably thought was for them. I reached up and twisted the one karat diamond stud at the top of my right ear just like I did every time I took the stage. The stone was from my mother’s engagement ring. Then I took one last breath and walked out on stage.
 

I started slow at first, breathy. I pulled the crowd in and took them along with me. It was easy. It always was. I loved them. They loved me. We went on the ride together. But I was the one driving. The lights were hot. I kept Justin on my left. He was my anchor. Like I was on some spacewalk. I could go high and far and all around the moon, but Justin held the line that kept me from floating off toward the stars until I was good and ready to let go.
 

Everything else in my life could let loose at any moment. But here, now. On this stage, this microphone, my voice. I owned it. I had control and power and it thrilled me, intoxicated me. No one could touch me but every man in that room wanted to.
 

They sang with me. Followed me. I made each one of them think I was singing just for them. And a little bit of me really was. I gave them each a small piece of myself as I let my voice rise high and belted out a note. They’d give it  back to me with their applause and their energy. It fueled me. Fed me. Made it so I could shut out every other part of my life and just be here. In a way, it felt like flying.