Page 7 of Best Kind of Trouble
A few seconds later, Travis comes back. Twisting his mouth to the side, he says, “I can’t find Rob. But he’ll want to have a conversation.”
While we wait, we talk music. Cormac knows his shit, and it’s obvious Travis is excited. I’m pumped, too, because once Travis and Rob get him settled in, presuming he can play anywhere near as well as he talks about playing, I can bow out and leave them to it.
The front door opens to admit a late arrival, and I glance over?—
And feel like I’ve been frozen in spot from the cold air wafting in.
It’s a woman with long blond hair, down past her waist, wearing only a T-shirt and jeans despite the cold. For a second, my eyes linger on that hair—feet and feet of it, the shiny gold of a perfect lager. It seems to catch the low lights and radiate them back. Then my gaze finds her face.
Her eyes are big and light brown and full of misery. She looks like one of those princesses in the movies my sister’s friends liked to watch growing up. The ones that always made Hannah roll her eyes.
It takes me half a second to register that this is Briar, one of Hannah’s new friends.
I don’t really know Briar, although I know the story of how Hannah met her and Sophie. The three of them, plus another woman, were all unknowingly sleeping with the same guy—Jonah, a spineless piece of shit whose brother, Rob, happens to be the front man of Garbage Fire.
Rob and Jonah don’t get along, which is good, because once I found out what Jonah was pulling with my sister, I threatened to kill him and hide his body if he ever came near her again.
Now, Hannah, Sophie, and Briar are friends.
Sophie’s dating Rob, Hannah’s seeing Travis, and Briar…well, I don’t know much about Briar other than that she works for her rich father’s brewery, which is infamously one hundred percent organic. A pointless gimmick, if you ask me, but I suppose there are enough breweries in this town that you’ve got to stand out somehow. Might as well stand out for something stupid.
I’ve only seen Briar a few times, exchanged probably two dozen words with her, at least three of them hello, but I’ve seenenough to know she’s usually more put together than this. More aloof. A princess in a tower. Tonight, she looks desperate and on edge—a different kind of princess entirely.
My instinct is to stride over and ask who did this to her so I can punch them. Or, if it’s a woman, hand the situation over to my sister. But I made a promise to Hannah that holds me back.
The reason my sister left Big Catch this past summer is that I started casually sleeping with one of her friends, Margaret, who was also on staff. We’d agreed to no-strings sex—a way to scratch an itch—but after a few weeks, Margaret asked when she could move a toothbrush into my apartment.
The only toothbrush that’s ever going to be in my apartment is mine.
When I told her so, she accused me of being emotionally unavailable.
After what happened to me, yes, abso-fucking-lutely.
Next, she accused me of cheating.
An interesting accusation, given we’d never agreed to be exclusive. Even so, I wasn’t seeing anyone else. I’ve never had any interest in juggling women.
Didn’t matter. She was pissed, and she threw all of my boxing gear into one of the vats at Big Catch. Which meant all the beer had to be thrown out.
The brewery took a thousands-of-dollars hit, and Hannah had to fire her friend, which led to my sister losing most of her other friends. They’d stupidly sided with Margaret. Hannah was pissed enough at me to temporarily quit Big Catch, even though she’d been here longer than me and actually liked her job.
Last month, she agreed to forgive me for my screwup, thank God, on one condition. I had to promise not to mess around with any of her other friends, and also to grant her two favors. Anything she wants, anytime she asks.
Quickest agreement I’ve ever made.
Hannah’s already come to me for one favor: helping Travis out of a bind involving his band. The second is yet to be determined.
But I meant what I said. I’m never going near any of her other friends. Because being at odds with my sister or our little brother is unacceptable to me.
So I just stand there, ignoring the magnet-pull of Briar as she stands in the doorway, looking lost and beautiful and cold.
Crap, she’scold.
I’m about to stride forward so I can at least offer Briar someone’s coat—there’s a rack full of them by the door—when my sister and Sophie hurry through the crowd and flock around her.
I’m surprised by how relieved I feel, but more so by the hint of disappointment that I didn’t get to be the one to help her.
Seconds later, Rob comes over to us, and Travis wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Cormac is a bass player,” he gushes, acting like a zealot who worships at an altar with a bass guitar on top.
