Badd Luck by Jasinda Wilder

  Zane reached out with one hand and whacked Canaan upside the back of his head, and then me. "Don't be petulant fucktards." He paused the game and poured a measure of whiskey into all three of our glasses. "So I heard Aerie and Tate Kingsley are in town."

  "They are," I confirmed.

  Zane leaned back on the couch, eyeing us. "And?"

  "And we're...hanging out," Canaan said.

  "Hanging out." Zane nodded, sipping. "I always did wonder why you guys never dated. But I figured it would get too complicated."

  "That was pretty much it. And then they moved." I shrugged, hoping to leave it at that.

  "But now they're back. For how long?" Zane was watching us carefully, his gaze sharp.

  "Um, more or less indefinitely. Until they figure out what they want to do next." I sipped whiskey and hoped Canaan would take over.

  "And you guys are...hanging out?" Zane quirked an eyebrow, lacing the last two words with heavy insinuation.

  Canaan hissed, a feline sound of irritation. "What's with the twenty questions, Zane?"

  "Oooh, touchy." Zane just laughed. "Somethin' is going on, huh?"

  "Yeah, and it's complicated. So back off and let us figure it out on our own," Canaan said.

  "Hey, I'm your big brother. It's my job to pester you about this shit."

  I chuckled. "Well...consider us pestered. Now fuck off about it, huh?"

  Zane lifted both hands. "Fine, fine. But if you need big brother advice, come to me. I'm your best bet."

  "I dunno," I teased. "Bast was the first to snag a woman."

  Zane chortled. "I think Dru snagged him as much as he did her. That woman is scary. Word to the wise: do not fuck with her."

  Canaan chuckled. "Yeah, I heard she laid you on your ass, Mr. Big Tough Navy SEAL."

  Zane didn't even deny it. "Legit, she did. I'm tellin' you, Dru is a badass." He tossed his Xbox controller onto the couch beside himself. "I need to crash. That little monkey of mine doesn't like to sleep at night, apparently, and I'm on midnight bottle feeding duty."

  "All right," I said, standing up. "Come on, Cane, let's let Papa get his beauty sleep."

  Zane snorted as he showed us to the door. "Yeah, yeah, tease me now, boys. When you two assholes have kids of your own, you won't be laughing."

  I made a cross with my fingers, hissing like a TV vampire. "Don't jinx me, you dick!"

  He jerked a thumb toward their bedroom. "Hey, you think that little monster was planned? You remember how I was when I found out--I was a damn mess."

  Canaan laughed. "Yeah, you were."

  Zane leaned against the post of the open door. "I'm just sayin', this shit has a way of taking you by surprise." He waved as we headed out on foot back toward our apartment, which was only a few blocks away from Zane and Mara's converted warehouse. "Don't get into too much trouble, now, boys."

  "Hey, we're rock stars. Trouble is what we do," I said.

  On the walk back home, Canaan broke the silence between us. "So...that was kind of wild, the night at the cabin."

  "Yeah, it was."

  "Where are you at with everything?" he asked.

  I shook my head and shrugged. "I dunno, man. A couple days apart to cool off, things may be different, you know? Maybe it was just a hot initial burn of chemistry from it being new and exciting? I dunno."

  "See, I've been trying to convince myself of the same thing, but I just can't quite get there."

  "Yeah, me neither."

  He glanced at me, his hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched, kicking a loose chunk of asphalt as he walked. "Where are you on the whole...multi-directional attraction thing?"

  I laughed. "Hell if I know, Cane. I said pretty much everything the other morning. I can't deny the attraction is real, but I just don't think I'm cut out emotionally to really be willing to explore it. Like, we've passed groupie chicks back and forth when we were on tour, but that was just fucking around. This isn't that, and Tate and Aerie aren't groupies. It's...it's them--it's the girls. We can't fuck this up, you know?" I sighed, irritated at my own inability to put my feelings on the subject into words. "But at the same time, I can't deny a pretty intense curiosity about what it might be like with Aerie. Like, would it be different? Obviously it would, they're different people. Like, you and I are twins, but we're not the same person, we're not clones. So...I'm curious. But, emotionally, I'm just pulled to Tate, like a crazy strong pull. I feel like it could be something real. And I don't want to fuck that up by messing with Aerie."

  Canaan clapped me on the shoulder. "See, this is why I love you so much--you can put this stuff into words in a way I can't." He walked a few steps before saying anything else. "That's pretty much exactly how I feel."

  We reached our apartment, but instead of going upstairs we stayed in our studio, Canaan picking up a ukulele, and me a didgeridoo, and we spent a while just improv jamming.

  During a break, I picked up a guitar pick and tossed it at Canaan, hitting him square on the forehead. "Let me put a hypothetical out there, just for the sake of conversation," I said.

  He tossed the pick back, and I caught it. "Okay."

  "Again, purely as a hypothetical scenario, not that I'm planning to try it or even necessarily want to, but...how would you feel toward me if I was to sleep with Aerie?"

  He leaned back against the couch, setting the uke on his lap and running his hands through his hair. "Shit, dude, that's a good question." He thought about it for a long time before answering. "I'm not sure I'd be cool with it, honestly."

  I nodded. "And about us messing around in the lake? How do you really feel, deep down, totally honest, just between you and me?"

  "It's a little weird. If it was any other scenario than how it played out, like if you and her were to be alone together and that happened, I'd be a little upset. But it was all of us, we were all there and it happened the way it happened, so I feel like it's not that big of a deal."

  "So you're starting to get emotionally invested in Aerie, to the point that jealousy is a thing."

  "Yeah, pretty much." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Which is a little scary, if you want the truth."

  "How about a lot scary? If it was some random chick, it wouldn't feel as...big, I guess," I said, "but it's Tate and Aerie, and I know for a fact we'll never meet anyone who understands us, where we come from, where we've been, why we're the way we are...they know everything about us, you know? Like, the idea of meeting someone new, someone I've got no history with, who knows nothing about me, and trying to, like, fill them in on my life and all that? I get exhausted just thinking about it. With Tate, I just know she knows."

  Canaan bobbed his head in agreement. "They just get us, in a way literally no one else on the planet ever could."

  "Right," I said, "which makes the stakes on this so much higher. Because if we screw up this friendship, we'll never have anyone like them again."

  "Hate to break it to you, bro, but the friendship is already permanently altered," Canaan said with a rueful laugh.

  "I know. Tate and I talked about that. The moment they Skyped us that time, it was changed. No going back from there, man."

  Canaan leaned forward toward me. "But dude, can you even believe how hot they are? Like, for real?"

  I held both hands up, palms out. "I typically hate this phrase, but...I literally can't even, with how fucking gorgeous they are."

  "No matter how this plays out, Cor, we are two lucky sons'a'bitches to have gotten even the time we did with them, even if nothing else happens."

  I put out my both fists, and we tapped knuckles. "Truth, Cane, truth."

  Late the next morning, Canaan's phone rang. We were at the bar--which was open but empty--munching on French fries and working on our newest album. Canaan was editing songs on his laptop, and I was trying to come up with an idea for cover art.

  Canaan glanced at his phone as it lit up--Mike Lassiter, Nitro Punch. Canaan answered it and put it on speaker. "Yo, Mike, whattup?"
>
  "Canaan, buddy. How the hell are you?"

  "Good, man, good," Canaan said, sliding the phone between us. "You're on speaker, and Corin is with me."

  I set my pen down and leaned toward the phone. "Hey, man. What's going on? Been a minute since we talked."

  "Actually, we were just talking about you guys," Canaan said. "We were talking about that night on the tour bus in Seattle, with all those sorority chicks."

  Mike laughed. "Hoooo-boy, can't forget that night, can you? That was wild." He paused, and I heard voices in the background, knowing he was on his tour bus. "So, the reason I'm calling is that we're actually playing a benefit show at J-BER tomorrow, and the guys we had lined up to open for us bailed on us. Somebody got sick or someone's gramma died, or somethin', I dunno, man. I just know they bailed, and we need a last-minute opener in fuckin' Anchorage, and you two are the first ones I thought of. I know you guys have semi-retired or whatever, but is there any chance you guys can make it to Anchorage by two tomorrow afternoon? All you need is instruments, we've got all the sound equipment lined up. We can throw some bills your way, four or five hundred, maybe. Not much, I know, but it's a benefit, right?"

  J-BER, for those unfamiliar with Alaska, is the Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, an Army-Air Force combo base in Anchorage.

  Canaan and I exchanged glances.

  "We haven't performed for anything more than a bar crowd in a while," I said. "So we might be a bit rusty."

  "Eh, fuck that. You guys are pro, man. I'm not worried about that."

  "The other thing is, it'd be just the two of us playing," Canaan put in. "Brett and Toby both found other bands. We can work up a set list and all that, as long as you're cool with it being just us two."

  "No worries," Mike said. "I've seen YouTube videos of your stripped-down set, and that shit is killer."

  "Our duo set is on YouTube?" I asked, not realizing this.

  "Mostly cell phone stuff of you guys in that bar up that way. It's good material, though."

  "Wow, that's cool. I didn't know it was up there," I said. "We'll have to have Xavier shoot some official C-and-C videos."

  "You got a better name that C-and-C? That shit is lame."

  "Well, Bishop's Pawn is no more, so we can't use that," Canaan said. "We'll figure something out."

  "So you guys are in? You can play the show?" Mike asked.

  I glanced at Canaan, and he nodded, and I gave him a thumbs-up. "Yeah, man, we're in."

  Mike blew out a heavy sigh. "Fucking...thank god, man. I was worried I was gonna have to get up there with my Taylor and do my one-man acoustic show."

  Canaan burst out laughing. "Mike, buddy, I love you man, but don't ever do that."

  For the record, Nitro Punch is a heavy metal band, lots of mixed screaming and singing. Mike can sing well, but his real talent is his iron vocal chords, which let him do super deep growling and balls-to-the-wall screaming. The idea of Mike getting up with an acoustic guitar and a mic, and acting like a coffeehouse singer-songwriter is...well, it's funny. Like, picture it: Mike Lassiter is six-six, built like a linebacker--because he was one in college, before he dropped out to pursue music--with waist-length black dreadlocks, covered in tattoos from literally head to toe, pierced everywhere, with a beard long enough he could braid it and it would still hang to mid-chest--he is every inch the hard-as-fuck, scary-intense heavy metal vocalist that he is. Not an acoustic set kinda guy, is my point.

  "Hey, man, I've actually been doing some acoustic shit lately," Mike protested. "We've been on a bit of a break as Nitro Punch for a while, since we all kind of wanted to do some solo stuff, and I ended up getting into the whole sappy singer-songwriter routine. Laugh all you want, but I'm not actually all that bad."

  Canaan glanced at me in shock. "Damn, dude. Well...okay, then. No offense, man. I just couldn't picture you singing all pretty about roses and lattes and shit."

  Mike spluttered sarcastically. "Right, because I'm a roses and lattes guy. Most of my stuff is about me dealing with my childhood, working through all that bullshit." Someone in the background yelled his name. "I gotta go, boys. I'll send you my solo EP on Soundcloud, and you can make fun of me after you've listened to it, and then I'll kick both of your scrawny asses at the same time when I see you at J-BER."

  "Sounds good. Except you can't even kick your own ass, you big dumb pussy," I said, laughing. "Okay, bye!" I hung up before he had a chance to retort.

  Canaan pulled me into a hug. "Hell, yeah! First gig since we quit the Bishop's Pawn tour!"

  "What are we gonna call ourselves?" I asked. "Now that Mike pointed it out, C-and-C is lame as shit."

  "Well, it was always a place-holder until we came up with something else, which hasn't been a priority up 'til now, since we're not in a hurry to get this album out."

  I shrugged. "True. But we still need a badass name."

  At that moment, Aerie and Tate sashayed into the bar, arguing volubly about something.

  "Hey, boys!" Tate said, with a happy grin. "So, what are we doing?"

  "Well, it's Friday, so Cane and I are playing a set tonight at the bar," I said, as Tate took the stool beside me and Aerie the one beside Canaan, "and then we have to get ready for our gig in Anchorage tomorrow."

  Aerie glanced at me quizzically. "Gig in Anchorage? Did I miss this announcement?"

  "No, because we literally just got it," Canaan said.

  "So...what is the gig?" Tate asked.

  "Opening for Nitro Punch at J-BER. They're doing a benefit show," I answered.

  "Nitro Punch?" Tate quirked an eyebrow. "Are there going to be a bunch of cock-hungry sorority bitches?"

  I laughed. "Not likely."

  Canaan elbowed Aerie in the ribs, and leaned forward to catch Tate's eye. "You guys should come to Anchorage with us. We can have some fun after the show."

  "That's a great idea!" Tate said, pulling out her phone. "I'll book us some rooms right now."

  Aerie stared at her sister. "I thought we agreed we were turning our phones off while we were here, T."

  Tate shrugged, not looking up from her phone. "I needed to look something up on the Internet this morning, and never turned it off. I haven't checked social media, if that makes you feel any better."

  Aerie rolled her eyes. "Great...now I'll never get you off that damn thing."

  Tate was typing furiously, and then she hauled her wallet out of her purse, entered credit card info, then put the card and wallet away, tapped the screen a few more times, and then powered the phone off. "There!" she announced, triumphant. "Two single king bedrooms at the Embassy Suites. And the phone is off."

  I found it a significant assumption that she'd booked two rooms. Of course, she could be intending that she and Aerie would stay in one, and me and Cane in the other, but somehow...I didn't think so.

  "When do we leave?" Aerie asked.

  "Uh, that's actually a really good question," I said. "It's, like, forty hours to Anchorage by car, which won't work since we have to be there by two tomorrow afternoon. We have to book a flight."

  Brock--who had been leaning back against the service bar with his nose in his phone this whole time, ignoring us and our conversations--glanced up at us. "I can fly you guys up there, if you want. It'll be a tight squeeze, but if all you're bringing is some guitars and your cajon and the four of you, we can make it work."

  "Kick ass!" Canaan said. "You sure do come in handy, Brock."

  "Brock's air taxi at your service," Brock teased. "Seriously, though, I'm considering selling both of my planes and upgrading to a newer, bigger seaplane that can hold more people. With the right licensing, I can probably make some bank as a local shuttle pilot."

  "You should do it," I said. "It'd be a nice side gig."

  Brock pointed at the ceiling. "It would probably make tending bar here the side gig, to be honest." He gestured at Canaan and me. "And by the way, why don't you guys just call yourselves Badd? Simple, easy to turn into a cool logo, and memorable."


  Canaan and I exchanged amused looks.

  "Why didn't we think of that?" Canaan asked, laughing.

  "Because I'm smarter than you?" Brock said.

  And thus, our trip to Anchorage was nailed down.

  And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited about the prospect of sharing a room--and a bed--with Tate.

  Judging by the eager glitter in Tate's eyes as she looked at me, I'd say she felt the same way.

  This was shaping up to be a hell of a weekend.

  11

  Tate

  * * *

  Canaan and Corin were on fire. They'd managed to wedge a ridiculous number of instruments into the cargo hold of Brock's plane. I didn't remember them playing so many different instruments, but I guess they'd not only gotten hotter with age, but they had honed their talent a lot, too.

  They played acoustic songs, just Canaan on guitar and Corin on the box drum thing, and then they played a couple songs where they both used loop pedals to create the effect of a full band. Honestly, I knew they were crazy talented, as I'd watched them go from messing around in garages to playing paying gigs, and I'd kept up with their music in Bishop's Pawn, but since they quit that band to move to Ketchikan, they'd really updated their sound and had expanded a lot creatively. They could sound like a full rock band, or they could sound like a duo that would fit in at any coffee shop or open mic night, and they made both styles work and blend seamlessly.

  They played half a dozen songs for the gathered crowd of military personnel, and then let their instruments go quiet.

  Canaan pivoted on the makeshift stage--which had been set up in a giant hangar with fighter jets in the background, cockpits levered open. He glanced over at Aerie; she and I were sitting in the front row, all the way to one side near the exit stairs.

  "Yo, Aerie--you still play the ukulele?" he asked, into the mic.

  "Nope!" she said, shaking her head, but I knew she was lying--I'd watched her play and sing just the previous morning, sitting on Grandma and Grandpa's front porch; a few guests of the B and B had even stopped and listened.

  I pushed her toward the stage, fighting her as she resisted. "Yes, she does!" I shouted.

  "Do not!" Aerie argued.

  "You do too! You played yesterday! Get your butt up there and play, girl!" I smacked her butt hard enough that she whirled on me, laughing hysterically and blushing.