“Me?” He shrugged, laughing good-naturedly. “I’m just a bartender.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
He shook his head. “For real. I manage the bars. More paperwork and less pulling beers these days what with four locations but, at the end of the day, I’m just a bartender.” He eyed me. “Don’t forget Rem, Ram, and Rome. Smokejumpers—ultra elite wildfire fighters—they parachute out of a perfectly good airplaneintoa wildfire too hot and too remote for theotherelite wildfire fighters. Rome helps me run the bars, Remington is a tattoo artist, and Ramsey is a deep brush, big game hunting guru.”
The guys were trooping down the dock, laughing, hanging on to each other and throwing elbows—they were too loud, like some of them had had too much to drink. Brock had flown and was hanging back at the plane, tying up, and Lucas, huge and broad, was walking straight and staying quiet, watchful; I knew from Mom’s emails that he was a former alcoholic, and had taken it upon himself to be a watchful, sober presence for the others as much as he could. Playing catch-up for years of neglect was how Mom said he’d phrased it.
Which left Zane, Ink, Ram, and Myles, four of them sauntering together down the dock, howling with laughter at something—knowing men, I guessed I was probably better off not knowing.
Bast glanced at me, at the guys, and then lifted his chin at me. “You good?”
“Yeah, thanks. Sorry to have ruined your run.”
“Nah, I was just stretching my legs, gettin’ some fresh air.” He smirked at me. “Next time you take a pissed-off walk, just stay next to the water. That way, you can just walk back the way you came.”
“I will. See you later.” I hesitated. “Hey, Bast?”
He paused, turned back. “Yo.”
“Thanks. For the silence, I mean. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“Sure thing, Lex.” He waved, and headed off into the darkness.
I waited for Myles and the guys to reach the end of the dock.
Myles saw me, grinned. “Lexie! Lexie, baby. There you are.” He swayed a little. “Waiting for me, were you?”
I laughed. “Yeah, Myles. Just standing here in the dark, waiting for you to come back.”
He latched onto Ram’s shoulder for balance. “I think you’re being sarcasmic.” He blinked. “Sarcasmic? Is that right?” A laugh. “Shit, I’m lit.”
I moved to his side, leaned up against him. “Yeah, you are.”
He stared down at me, deep brown eyes dizzy but intent. “You mad?”
That stung a little, that Myles’s first thought upon seeing me was to ask if I was upset about something. Wanting to alleviate his worries, I lifted up and kissed his cheek. “Mad? Hell, no. I’m glad you had a good time.”
He sighed. “I don’t get like this often. Party a lot after shows, but I stay cool.” He belched loudly. “’Scuse me. But I felt like with these guys? Withtheseguys? I could maybe be a little less cool. It’s hard bein’ cool all the time.”
Zane laughed. “You are far from cool, my dude. I’m onto your little secret. You’re just a big dork.” He cackled. “But that’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.” Zane sounded like he was a little less lit, but then he missed a step, standing still, and I realized he just sounded like it.
“I’m not a dork,” Myles protested. “But people got this—this idea that a rock star oughta be cool. Like,cool. So I’m cool, for the fans. But you guys arereal.And the real me isn’t cool. I’m just, just like…this guy, you know?” He swayed way back, and I caught him. “Whoa. Gettin’ the spins.”
“Getting the spins?” Ink rumbled. “You had the spins half a fifth ago, little man.”
Myles glared way, way up at Ink. “Who are you calling little, you damn tree?”
Ink rumbled a deep laugh. “You’re funny.”
Ramsey let out a fart. “Everybody’s little compared to you.” He seemed to see me for the first time. “Oh, hey.”
I laughed. “Hi, Ramsey. That was disgusting, by the way.”
“You heard that, huh?”
I laughed. “Heard it? I think theyfeltit in San Francisco.”
Ink chortled. “You oughta hear mine. You’ll really feel those.”
