“Shoot,” I yell at Ben who’s in a heated battle with another player. “Yeah!” Ben knocks down and eliminates the other player.
“You guys and this game, it’s ridiculous.”
I shrug. “It’s fun and it’s free.”
“Free? Quinn, you could probably afford to pay someone to play for you.”
“What’s the fun in that? And no, I couldn’t.”
“Are you having money problems?”
“What? No. Just because I like playing a free game doesn’t mean I’m having money problems.”
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“Money? You have your own.”
“No, not just money, but work.”
I shake my head and reach for the controller, but Elle grabs it first and sticks it down her shirt. I look at Ben, who shrugs. I flip him off.
“I don’t want to work. I want to be a recluse who adopts cats, blacks out my windows and orders take-out every night.”
“Quinn James, you’re halfway there. Now listen to me. I was approached by Dana Cantu.”
“Don’t know her.”
“Not the point. The point is, she’s a killer lead and wants to start a band.” I’m already shaking my head. Elle smacks me in my arm. “You’d be perfect. You and Dana can take turns on lyrics, she has an amazing voice and I think you’ll like her once you meet her.”
“Except I’m not meeting her.”
“Ajay says he’s in.”
This gives me pause. Aside from my dad, Ajay is one of the best drummers I know. The summer before Peyton’s accident, my dad hosted a battle of the drummers. Thousan
ds turned out for the twenty-five-grand prize. The event was off the hook. I thought about entering, but my skills are nowhere near my father’s, so I became a spectator, watching men and women battle it out with sticks. Ajay won by a landslide, and after, he and my father gave the people a show. It was amazing.
“So, with Ajay, you’re in?”
I look at my sister. She’s eager to make a name for herself in the music business, but I’m not. Someone like Ajay isn’t going to sign on to just any band, so whatever my sister has up her sleeve is probably legit. It’s just not for me.
“No can do.”
“Come on, Quinn. We need you.”
“Look, I don’t know this Dana and I’m not comfortable sharing my songs or singing alongside someone I don’t know.”
“You can meet her, spend some time together.”
“Are you trying to hook me up with her?”
Elle waves me off. “No, she has some twisted relationship going on with her ex, Hendrix.”
“Still no.” There’s a knock at the door and Elle’s face goes pale. “What did you do?” I ask, knowing that deep down, I don’t want to know.
“You’ll love her. I promise.” Elle is off the couch faster than I can move. She has the door open and her arms around a woman with platinum blonde hair. I can’t help but check her out with her knee-high combat boots, knee-length floral skirt, and skin-tight tank top to go with her bright red lips. I can’t tell if she’s trying to be emo but had to go to church today or what. Either way, she’s smoking hot, and walking toward me.
4