Chapter 31

Darryl Nelson

“Good morning, kids!”

My dad’s cheerful words and shit-eating grin hang in the air, his green eyes, so like mine, pinned to my scowling face. Beside me, Stevie’s hand slowly slips out of my grasp, and I can feel the heat of her blush through my shirt.

AJ clears his throat, and I start to feel my hackles rise. There’s no way I’m going to sit through some bullshit parental intervention just for finally fucking my girl.

“We need to talk about setting some boundaries, guys,” George shares a quick look with my mom, who nods.

“Why?” I spit out sullenly. “Nothing has ever been said when we’ve shared a bed before. I’ve spent many, many nights in Stevie’s bed since we moved here.”

“The lack of alcoholic miasma surrounding you every other time you’ve snuck out of my daughter’s bed, plus you guys have never been naked in bed before,” Stevie swears under her breath, covering her face with her hands. “That’s what makes this different, Darryl.”

“But…” I start.

“Nope, kiddo,” my dad speaks over my protests. “This is serious fucking talk now. You guys start acting like adults, we’re gonna talk to you like adults.”

My mom gives me her best placifying smile as she rests her hand on top of his. “Honey, we just want to know you guys are being safe and are using your words rather than just your actions.” I stifle the need to roll my eyes at her hippyish words.

“Yes, mom,” I reply, my voice dripping in sarcasm. “It was all consensual.”

Stevie pinches my arm making me curse. “We know you guys are just concerned, but it’s all good. We’re all good.”

Turning her face up towards me, she beams, and I feel the warmth in her smile as the corners of my own mouth turn up in response. With my girl by my side, I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.

***

“Stevie and Darryl sittin’ in a tree…” Grayson skips out of the way of my fist, chuckling at my chagrin. “Took you guys long enough to get your shit together.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

I hide my own grin behind my palm as my attention turns to Stevie’s house, where she was giving her mom a hug goodbye. A beat-up SUV squeals down the street, pulling up to an abrupt stop at the end of our driveway, making Vinnie jump and edge himself behind me a little.

The driver’s side window rolls down, spilling classic Prince tunes into the neighborhood, and Rhea sticks her head out. “You losers ready to go?”

“Yep!” Stevie bounds past me, clambering into the front seat next to her best friend. “You guys coming?”

Vinnie surprises me by following Grayson into the back seat, where he says a shy hello to Rhea’s weird little brother, Angelo, who immediately launches into some complicated sounding diatribe about some fantasy thing. I slide in next to Stevie and take her hand.

“Sooo…this is new,” Rhea says, looking pointedly at where our hands are joined.

Stevie squeezes my hand, pre-empting the shitty reply that was bubbling up behind my lips. “What’s with today’s outfit, Rhea?” she asks, thankfully moving her best friend’s attention off us.

“Eh,” Rhea waves her hand dismissively. “I was running late so I didn’t really look before I got dressed.”

I lean forward to take in her appearance, swallowing back a laugh when I see the mismatched shoes poking out from underneath what looks like an old lady’s muumuu dress overlaid with a tie-dyed tee-shirt that was straight out of the early nineties.

“Anyhoo, enough about me, I need all the dirty deets on you two.”

“There will be no dirty details exposed,” Stevie smiles shyly, bumping her shoulder against Rhea’s. “Just be happy for us.”

“Oh, you know I’m absolutely thrilled for you both,” she delivers deadpan, complete with a roll of her eyes.

***

Things were feeling good. Really fucking good.

It was worrying.

I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The band was doing well. We were playing pretty much every weekend and had even scraped together enough money to record an EP which we were flogging at our gigs, and I’d even been able to talk my dad into letting me display some at the shop too.

It had taken some adjustments to the new situation at school. Stevie and Rhea were a regular fixture at the lunch table Smit and I commandeered every day, but that meant I had to put up with a constant stream of other students stopping by to talk to Stevie.

She was too fucking nice, how the fuck she remembered everybody’s names was beyond me, let alone remembering other inane factoids about them.

It was a slow afternoon at work, so Smit had decided to run across to the coffee shop opposite to load up on strong coffee and sugary cinnamon buns. I was slumped over the desk, engrossed in a tattoo magazine trying to get ideas for my next piece of ink.

“Hey, this is your band, right? You’re the drummer?”

I look up at the gruff voice, and feel my eyes widen as I take in the willowy figure of Lukas Wolffe, the lead singer of the biggest local band since Ashes Within, holding one of our CDs.

“You’re…you’re the dude from…”

“The Sons of Hyperion, yeah,” he smirks as he offers his hand. “Lukas. Nice to meet you, dude. I caught the end of your show the other night. You guys are pretty tight.”

“Thanks!” I try not to start gushing over his band.

The front door chimes and I’m saved from my own embarrassing fanboying by Smit swanning in and starting his own.

“Lukas Wolffe! Oh my god, man, dude, you are awesome! I mean, your band is awesome. I’ve got everything you guys have put out, including a crappy recording of your first ever gig at that one girl’s party.”

Lukas laughs, flicking his long hair back over his shoulder. “Oh, man! Don’t remind me of that infamous party! But, I guess we all gotta start somewhere, right.”

He taps the plastic case of our EP with a chipped black nail. “The real reason I tracked you down is to maybe give you guys a bit of a head start.”

Smith and I glance at each other. “What do you mean?”

“We’re going on tour again, and we like to take a local unsigned band as our opening act, and we thought—well, I thought—you guys would fit the bill perfectly.”