Santiago was the culprit. Of course he was. I opened my door, raising an eyebrow.
“Excuse me. You need to move so I can actually get out of this car.”
He stepped back, but not far. I squeezed myself out of the small space he allowed me, glaring in his direction.
“Good morning,” he rumbled.
“Good mornin’.”
“How was that air mattress?”
I did not like the look on his face. Like he knew just how awful it had been.
“Like sleeping on a cloud.” If the cloud were deflating and trying to suffocate me.
“You look tired.”
I sipped my mocha with my middle finger strategically separate from the rest of them.
“You’ve always had a great way with words, Santi,” Yael said, slamming the door of the car.
He lifted a shoulder. “Not my fault your air mattress blows.”
Yael circled around the car, slinging her arm over my shoulders. “Patently false. However, Maeve would look fresh as a daisy even if she hadn’t slept for a week.”
“And Ididsleep last night. If I’m tired of anything, it’s this line of conversation.”
Santi’s steely eyes swept over my face once more before he gave a tight nod. “All right.” He turned and walked into the building, not pausing to see if we were behind him.
Yael frowned at me. “Um, that was weird. He’s normally monosyllabic, but not a dick.”
“Are you lookin’ at me? I just got here.”
She looked in the direction he’d gone, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s probably a little weird for him without Diego here—having youreplaceDiego.”
“Is anyone going to tell me where Diego is?”
A cagey look came over her face, eyes darting about. “I think you should ask Santi.”
I huffed. “I don’t think he’ll be tellin’ me anytime soon.”
“I’d tell you, but it’s personal. Just know, he quit the band the same day we ran into you at Low Bar. Everyone’s still reeling a bit. I’m sure Santi’s reeling a lot. So, if he’s a dick, I guess we should all cut him some slack.”
“How long will this moratorium on calling out Santi’s dickdom be lastin’?”
She shook her head, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “Oh, girl, I missed you.”
Rehearsal was grueling.
But fun. Man, it was so fun.
Murray and Mo had opened their arms and welcomed me, talking me through songs, never huffing and puffing when it took me a minute to get it.
Santiago remained stony silent. He didn’t criticize me or anything. For the most part, he gave me the cold shoulder. It reminded me of the way he’d been when we first met, before I snuck under the thick wall he lived behind.
We were taking a break, sitting around on the black leather couches (which seemed to be a staple in places like this), eating pizza and trading war stories.
“In L.A., I drummed for this new wave punk band for a couple months. All the members except me performed in drag. I felt silly, sittin’ back behind my drums, lookin’ all plain, so they gave me a makeover.”