Rule three of a grumpy house full of boys: big brother leads by example. He pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the table. “Who’s in?”
Andrew didn’t move.
Neither did West, but he made the classic mistake of sniping from a distance. “Andrew won’t get in the game. He’ll just sit there be pissed that someone else wins.”
“Fuck off.” Andrew’s voice was quiet, but filled with enough anger that Dean did a slow glance up at Liana. He didn’t know these guys that well. He needed her to be the arbiter of when enough was enough.
She was still in her stage makeup, heavy dark eyeshadow and a too-smooth face, so it was hard to read the subtle signs in her face, but the not-so-subtle tightness around her mouth was enough to broadcast to all three men that she wasn’t happy. Silence stretched as she looked back and forth between Andrew and West, then finally settled her attention on Dean. Her eyes were filled with questions, but her lips softened as she exhaled. “I’m in. Let me just get changed while you set up the table.”
“You gonna let Liana take the new guy’s money?” West goaded, and Andrew stood up so fast, Dean got between them.
No fists were flying tonight.
“Put your money on the table and get the chips.” He pointed a finger at Andrew, then glanced back over his shoulder at West. “If you want to say anything, you can do it when it’s your turn to bid. Or between deals. Got it?”
“I don’t got nothing to say.”
“Is that because you’re—” West cut himself off when Dean turned, giving him a warning look.
“Table. Cards. Chips. Money.” When neither man moved fast enough, he used his NCO voice. “Now!”
That did the trick.
By the time Liana returned, her face scrubbed clean, her hair up in a loose, swinging ponytail that made him want to tug on it something fierce, the table was set for four people to play some poker.
Dean only paid enough attention to the game to win every third hand. The rest of the time, he watched West poke at Andrew. Andrew’s anger build. Liana get pushed closer and closer to the breaking point, until West sneered one too many times and she slammed her cards onto the table.
“What the hell isyourproblem?” she asked, staring at her drummer in disbelief.
It was Andrew who answered instead. “He doesn’t know when to stop.”
“You know what? I don’t care. You turned a little thing into a big fucking deal tonight,” she stormed, gesturing sharply at Andrew. “And you—” she snarled at West. “He’s absolutely right. You don’t know when to stop. And I don’t know why. Have we just hit that point in a tour where we’re in each other’s faces too much? Is this some sort of delayed fallout from my anxiety last week? I don’t get it. And I want you both to stop. Right now.”
To their credit, they both looked sorry. Too bad they also looked sullenly, stubbornly insistent that it was the other guy’s fault.
Dean decided it was time to pull the pin. “What happened earlier today?”
West’s face turned ruddy and Andrew’s eyes flared wide.
Ha. Oldest brother, twenty-year veteran NCO. They never stood a chance. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Liana, who blinked at him in surprise. He restrained himself from smirking. Something serious still needed to be sorted out.
He didn’t have a clue what it was—just that something must have happened between West and Andrew, and if pushed enough, they’d come out with it.
“He overreacted—” West said.
Andrew sputtered right back, cutting off his bandmate. “And he keeps rubbing my face in the fact that he’s making more money than me!”
“What on Earth are you talking about?” Liana glared at Andrew. “I assure you that y’all are paid the exact same. And if I could, I’d dock you both a good amount for ruining my evening.”
“Not for being in the band.” Andrew slinked low in his chair. Dean could practically see the younger man’s inner toddler pout. Oh boy. “He’s been building his solo stuff on iTunes. And now he’s rubbing my face in it.”
If speech bubbles were a thing in real life, Dean would bet money he’d see a black squiggle over Liana’s head right now.
“So you let that spill onto the stage?” Her eyes flashed with bright, righteous anger. “If you aren’t happy with where you’re at in your career, you have a bus full of people who have shown over and over again they’re happy to talk business. We’ll support you, but not if you’re a jerk about it. There is no room on my stage for jealousy. Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll fire you without a second thought. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” Andrew sat up a little straighter. If Dean was his platoon 2IC, he’d have rapped him over the knuckles for not being ramrod straight, but this was no longer his scene to direct.
He got to sit back and enjoy watching Liana tear a strip off two idiots.
