The twins were on stage tonight, doing an acoustic set, with Canaan playing an acoustic guitar and Corin sitting on one of those box-drum things, which he slapped with his hands to create a rolling percussive rhythm. They were both singing, doing that eerily perfect harmony only those two can manage.
Evangeline tugged at my hand to slow me down just as we were reaching the locked doorway behind which was the stairs to the apartment over the bar.
“I recognize those guys,” she said into my ear. “Either it’s an amazing cover act, or that’s actually Bishop’s Pawn.”
I laughed. “That’s actually Bishop’s Pawn,” I answered.
She eyed me in amazement. “No way! I saw them in Germany last year. They’re amazing! What are they doing playing in this dingy dive bar?”
Apparently she hadn’t put two and two together yet. “Well, sweetheart, that’s a kind of complicated question to answer.”
I dug into my hoodie pocket and produced my keys, unlocked the door, which was marked “private access only” as a joke. Usually doors like that say something like “No access,” or just “Private” or “employee access only”, but Cane and Cor apparently thought it would be funny to put “private access only” on the door, and so there it is. I led her up the stairs and into the apartment, letting go of her hand reluctantly as we entered. I say reluctantly, because I’d been holding her hand for ten or fifteen minutes at that point and her hand in mine felt really nice. Like, just holding her hand felt tingly and exciting. Made me feel like a twelve-year-old kid again, sitting at the high school football game with my crush, having just gotten up the courage to grab her hand. Now, as then, I didn’t want to let go.
Which was stupid.
For a lot of reasons, none of which I was quite ready to examine.
Dru was on the couch watching TV, a fleece throw blanket on her legs, a giant glass of red wine in one hand, a bowl of popcorn on her lap. Copper hair currently in a sloppy, frizzy braid, bright cornflower-blue eyes, creamy skin, and a fierce Irish temper, Dru was the closest in build to Evangeline of any of my brothers’ women. They were similar in height, and they both had mouthwatering hourglass figures. Yeah, I don’t mind admitting Bast’s wife is hot as fuck, but she’s my brother’s wife and my sister-in-law, and all I’ll ever do is appreciate what God made. Point is, their similar builds means Dru probably had clothes that will fit Evangeline. Which is why I’m bringing her here as opposed to the apartment over the twins’ music studio a few doors down, where I actually live.
She shot a cursory glance at me as I entered; Evangeline was still hidden behind me. “Hey, Bax. Win your fight?”
“Obviously. McDermott is a puny little bitch. He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“What are you doing up here?” Dru asked, her eyes on the TV. “I’m not cooking for you.”
“Can I borrow a change of clothes from you?” I asked, setting down my gear bag.
She turned her head toward me, exaggeratedly slowly. “Even if you did take up cross-dressing, I don’t think my clothes are going to—HOLY SHIT.” She shot to her feet when Evangeline appeared from behind me, tossing her blanket aside and setting the popcorn and wine on the coffee table as she hurried over to us. “What the hell did you do to this poor girl, Bax?”
I slapped my forehead with a snarl of irritation. “Why does everyone always assume the worst about me? Jesus.” I gestured at Evangeline. “Dru, this is Evangeline. Evangeline, this is my sister-in-law, Dru. Now. Dru—would it be possible for Evangeline to clean up and get a change of clean clothes from you?”
“Of course! Come on.” Dru took Evangeline by the arm and dragged her through the living room and into the hall bathroom, where she sat the shell-shocked and confused Evangeline down onto the closed toilet lid. “Sit. Relax. Let me get this blood off you. Are you hurt? What did Bax do?”
I remained in the kitchen, where I fixed Evangeline a vodka cranberry. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO HER!” I hollered.
“Then whose blood is this?” Dru shouted back. “And shut up. Claire is sleeping.”
A door opened. “Not anymore, assholes.” Claire shuffled out of her and Brock’s room, blinking sleepily, wearing a T-shirt of Brock’s and probably nothing else. “Who’s this?—who are you? And why are we shouting at Bax?”
“We’renotshouting at Bax,” I said, bringing the drink to the bathroom.
I squeezed past Claire and into the bathroom, then slid behind Dru and sat on the lip of the tub, handing Evangeline the drink. “You seemed like a vodka cranberry type.”
She took it and sipped at it. “Whoa. Heavy on the vodka, much?”
I shrugged. “That was a shitty situation. Figured if I promised you a stiff drink I’d better make it hella stiff.”
“Does anyone actually even say ‘hella’ anymore?” Claire asked, from the hall outside the bathroom. “And will someone please explain to me what’s going on?”
Dru—who had a package of makeup wipes in her hand was gingerly wiping at the blood on Evangeline’s face—shot me a meaningful glare. “Bax? Care to explain?”
I sighed. “Well, Evangeline here wandered by mistake into the warehouse where my fight was happening. I noticed her but she seemed out of place, and then she left. On the way home I happened to walk past an alley near the warehouse. I saw these four fucking asswipes with their hands all over Evangeline, so I stopped them, and I brought her here to get her cleaned up.”
Evangeline snorted, a somehow ladylike sound of derisive disbelief. She stood up, taking a wipe from the package in Dru’s hand, and faced the mirror, wiping at her face vigorously. “You’re leaving out a few things, I believe.” She plucked at a strand of her hair, peeling away a clump of dried blood with her fingernails, grimacing in disgust. “Such as, for example, the way you punched that guy in the ring so hard his blood sprayed all over me—and I’m fairly certain you did it on purpose.”
“You distracted me. What can I say?” I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. “But you’re right, I did do that on purpose. It was kind of a dick move, and I apologize.”
She eyed me sidelong, glaring. “I…distractedyou? You demolished that poor man in a matter of seconds.”
