Dragons of Drupes - 7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Dinner’s ready!” Jack’s voice trailed through the house from the top of the stairs.

I stuffed my wet clothes into the dryer. Usually, I’d chuck them over a clothes horse and wait until they dried, but I needed a selection for later tonight. If only I knew Chrissy’s favorite color . . .

“It’s getting cold,” Jack shouted.

“It’s always cold for me, anyway,” I mumbled the moment Terry walked by.

He chuckled, “Know what it is tonight?”

“No idea.” I could only guess it would be unappetizing. For me anyway.

Terry glanced at his watch. “Five is the earliest we’ve eaten dinner, ever.” He pointed to Avice’s diary lying on top of the washing machine. I’d been reading it while I held the door of the washing machine shut so the water wouldn’t leak.

Yeah. Flatting without money could be a bitch.

“What’s that?”

I shrugged, hoping he’d think nothing more of it. Then tapped the washer. “Think this beauty has a trip back to your garage.”

“We’re starting without ya!”

Terry rolled his eyes at Jack’s words. “I’ll take a look later. Better get up there or we’ll be on the menu.”

Upstairs, Jack was dumping a spoon of pasta on his plate, while Faye was in some kind of trance, drawing circles on the table with her fork handle.

“What’s up?” I asked her.

Faye sighed and pulled out an envelope from her pocket, looking guiltily away from us. “Got another one.”

Everyone went silent. I looked at Terry, wondering how he was going to react, but, at least outwardly, he was cool.

“Let’s just solve this case quickly,” Jack said, then his voice hardened. “What we really need to worry about right now is money.” When no one replied, he continued. “I’ve some . . . suggestions.” He quietened, looking down at his food. “You’re not going to like it, though.”

I had the feeling he wanted to add: Especially you, Drake.

But maybe I was just cynical when it came to Jack.

“What?” I said.

“Faye could offer some type of computer tutorials. Terry could do some repairs- cheap labor, you know. I could offer food analysis for people wanting to know what fats and sugars are in different foods.” There was a pause. “I’m not quite sure what you could do yet, Drake. Maybe after school program, helping kids to read?”

I had to admit, they weren’t bad ideas.

’Course I wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

Jack pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” I asked.

“All that’s going to take time to start up.” He looked at us around the table. “We’re going to have to sell stuff. Each person one item; preferably one that will bring in enough to tide us over a month or so.”

Enough to tide us over a month or so. I could name only one possession that would be able to do that, and it was the one I least wanted to sell. Jack must’ve known that was a bigger ask for me than for the rest of them. Faye could sell one of the numerous computers she’d built. Terry one of the gadgets he’d made from scrap parts. And Jack . . . hmmm . . . “What could you sell?” It came out of my mouth like an accusation. I didn’t bother to cover it up with a smile or anything.

He shrugged. “Something.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Terry said, pouring chunky red sauce from a pot.

I sighed, the chair scraping across the floor as I got up. In the kitchen I rummaged around in the cupboards.

Faye flicked her fork up, almost stabbing Terry in the nose. “Oops. Uh, I’ll set up the online auction later.”

Terry whipped the fork off her as she almost swiped him again. “Do you need me to get you a spoon? Careful with that thing.” He let go, begrudgingly.

I returned to my seat, placed a sieve on my plate and poured the bolognese into it, filtering the beef out. I had considered eating plain pasta like Faye, but I couldn’t do it again. I glared at Jack, who leered in return. I could almost hear his thoughts: you need your brain in top form— take one for the team. But screw good intentions, I hated this. Couldn’t he respect my wishes, like, one time?

Any weird feelings I may have had earlier were totally forgotten. Buried deep behind a scowl and a heck of a lot of resentment.

I dumped the meat back into the pot, tomato sauce splattering across the table.

“Calm down,” Jack muttered.

You didn’t just say that. I ground my teeth together and stabbed a fork into my dinner. Relax, don’t waste your energy on petty fights, said the angel on my right shoulder. (But damn if I’d listen to him; he looked just like Jack!)

Or, said the devil . . .

But before he could spell out his master plan, Faye switched the discussion to the case.

“I’ll get the recording of Rohesia set up by tomorrow night. You guys going to go to New York later?”

Terry nodded. “After we’ve eaten. You’ve got those fake ID’s for us?”

“All sorted.”

The prospect of beer lifted my mood. “You know how to get there, right?”

A grin widened on Terry’s face.

“Hacked into Avice’s social network account. She wrote she’d be there round eight,” Faye said.

“Who’s she meeting?” Jack asked.

“Jerry.”

I was curious to see the guy in person. In her diary entries she’d been impressed with the way he spoke to her. Every word of his had made her melt. I hoped like anything I’d be able to do the same thing to Chrissy.

The phone rang. Although it lay on the floor only a couple of steps from my chair, Jack, sitting the furthest away, jumped up and grabbed it before I could. He glanced at me, face reddening, and disappeared downstairs.

What was that about? I looked at the others questioningly, but they didn’t seem to have noticed. The only thing that made sense to me, explaining why his face had lit up was . . . no way! Did Jack . . .

I frowned, that couldn’t be the case, could it?

He said he didn’t have much experience. Not no experience. Maybe they were taking things slowly. “Does Jack have a girlfriend?”

Faye’s head shot up. It looked to me as if she were suppressing a small smile. Was it a secret?

The thought of someone making him all hot and—I blinked away the sudden thought, feeling my cheeks heat-up.

Why did I care?

I didn’t.

Maybe I was jealous he had a girlfriend before I did. Yeah, that was it.

I stared down at my plate, pushing pasta around. I’d lost my appetite. Standing up from the table, I made my way to my room and straight to the pack of cigarettes. But even breathing in the ashy air didn’t settle my stomach.

I crept up to Jack’s floor, lingering outside his bedroom door. “See you later,” I heard him say. He sounded excited, which made my stomach convulse some more. “Can’t wait.” I snuck away before he could catch me.

’Cause that was just what I needed. How would I explain that?

I was having a hard enough time explaining it to myself.

In my room, I struck a match and lit another cigarette. I still hadn’t found my lighter. Maybe I’d left it in the attic bathroom? Hmm, have to check later. Right now I just needed my head out the window and a nicotine death-stick between my lips.

I inhaled the smoke, loving the tingling in my lungs and the way my mind shut everything else out. Well, mostly. Finishing my third ciggie of the day, I sighed, tempted to take a forth. Jack would be furious. Good, I thought, trashing the butt into the bin. I wouldn’t bother to cover up the smell, either.

I lit another, wishing the flame could burn Jack from my mind. He wound me up bad, like someone talking over a good song. Irritating was a better word. No, vexing. Plaguing, Provoking . . . inflaming. All the above.

Fourth ciggie. And feeling more than a little guilty.

Ah, crap. I stubbed it out with such force my fingers bashed against the outside window pane and the butt dropped to the ground.

Pulling on my sneakers, I stomped around the side of the house. The icy wind slapped at my face but it felt numb; my stomach was still choppy. Who was this gal Jack was talking to? What did she see in him?

I picked up the stub; my stomach continuing to flip on my way back inside the house to my bedroom. I wasn’t sure what to do in there anymore. I was pacing. I picked up a Mercedes Lackey book, but couldn’t concentrate on it. I chucked it on top of Oxion House, then on a whim pulled the guide to me and flipped through. It was a book I kept re-reading in the possibly vain hope of deciphering more about the mystery that was my home.

So far not much luck.

Deciding to just get over my mood, I trudged back to the attic—the book in tow.

“You look green, man,” Terry said, scraping the sauce off his plate. “What’ up?”

“Probably didn’t get all the meat out,” I said, pushing my dinner into the middle and sitting down to browse through the book. Jack was back at his seat. In the corner of my eye, I thought I could spot a smidgen of guilt on his face. He slunk further in his chair as if to fade out of focus.

Faye got up and came back with a glass of water. “Drink up. You’ll feel better. And put that book down, it won’t help.” She snatched the book off me and set it on the far end of the bench.

I gulped down the water. Faye was probably right about Oxion House; it’d just get my thoughts whirring faster than they already were. I slammed the glass on the table and looked at Terry. “You and me, let’s get going. I need to get out of here. Meet you on your floor in ten, yeah?”

Terry clicked his fingers, pointed, mouthed gotcha. I grinned weakly and went back downstairs. After brushing my teeth and grabbing my stuff, I waited outside Terry’s door.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and turned around. I couldn’t wait to stretch my legs and prowl the streets of New York. Terry might have been excited about London, but I was crazy about the States.

Jack appeared around the corner and my stomach tightened again. “What?” I grunted.

He put his hand into his pocket, but not before I could see it was shaking. “Sorry about dinner.” His voice was deep, but quiet.

“Whatever.” I feigned interest in a picture hanging on the wall above his shoulder, but I could see him out the corner of my eye.

He was looking down, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. “Look, I mean it,” he said. “It was shitty of me. Especially after you were so great this morning, you know, looking after me . . .” He hesitated a second, then turned around and took the stairs three-at-a-time.

It had been the last thing I’d expected to come out of his mouth. Had Jack just . . . thanked me? Sort of?

My face flushed. I tried cooling my cheeks with my hands. It wasn’t helping. He had thanked me, and he’d been nervous about it too—sincere. There’d been hundreds of times I thought Jack should apologize for something-or-other and he’d never bothered. It had stopped bugging me after a while and I took it for granted. That was just his way. But the fact he’d stepped out of what was obviously his comfort zone to say that . . . it was new. It made me feel noticed. Like my thoughts mattered.

It was nice. It made me feel nice inside and a little hot.

And it freaked me out reading into that reaction.

Faye bounded down the stairs, Terry behind her with a ladder for changing Oxions.

“You’re both to give these back to me as soon as you get back.” She reluctantly handed us the fake ID’s.

Terry set the ladder down and winked at me. “Sure,” he said to Faye.

“I mean it. And don’t be out too late.”

“Band practice at ten, remember?” I said, taking mine. It would be good to strum my lovely orange guitar, get my mind off things. “Hardly going to miss that.”

“Oh, that’s right . . . Chrissy. I almost forgot.” Terry was grinning. There was the Cheshire cat again.

“Yeah . . . Chrissy.” I smiled.

But it felt a little . . . forced.

* * *

“Okay, it’s just up here.” Terry pointed to a string of red lights ahead. “You ready?”

Ready was an understatement. Adrenaline flooded me. The thrill of not knowing whether we’d be let in or not was probably better than actually getting in. I couldn’t imagine going to a bar at twenty-one and having nearly as much fun as I did now.

“IDs please,” a tall, muscular man at the door demanded.

I handed over Faye’s piece of art. It was perfect, and we could even keep our names. All we had to memorize was our ‘new’ birth year. The bouncer read my card and looked me up and down. The excitement made my heart drumroll. “What’s your star sign?”

Clever. “Libra.”

He beckoned me into the dimly lit bar with a twitch of his head. Terry was already inside, the bouncer had barely looked at his ID.

“She won’t be here yet,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Let’s slicken.”

Slicken? That’s what came out of my mouth?

Ouch.

We stood a couple of feet from the bar and scanned the list. “I’ve got enough for a beer,” Terry said and scrunched up his nose, “ . . . to share.”

“I’ll grab us a free table.” Pushing my way through a crowd of students, I slid into a booth. On the table, pushed up to the wall, was an empty bottle of Rolling Rock. I grabbed it, holding it causally. Terry slowly came over, careful not to spill a single drop of the precious liquid.

“Smells yeasty.” He smacked his lips, but pushed the glass in my direction.

I lifted the empty bottle. “You first.” There was the dull thud of glass hitting glass. “Cheers.”

Terry sipped the beer. “Mmm. I look forward to an evening of this.”

I frowned. It would be nearly impossible to savor the glass so long. I jumped up from the booth with my empty glass. “Won’t be a tick.”

“Props look better if they’re realistic,” I said when I got back to Terry, placing the bottle, now half full of water, back on the table.

“That’s disgusting.” He grinned.

“What? I’m not actually going to drink it.”

“Swap!” Terry pulled the bottle to him and gave me his glass.

I took a gulp, gaze drifting over Terry’s shoulder to the back of a guy’s dark brown hair. For a split second I thought I was looking at Jack. But he hadn’t wanted to come. Something about having other stuff to do.

“What’s festering?”

I looked at Terry’s curious face. “Nothing. Just nervous . . . about Chrissy.” I couldn’t tell him that on the big day, I was actually more confused about Jack.

Because it was stupid. We hated each other. For months we were at each other’s throat.

I should just forget it already.

“So, do you guys all like Chrissy?”

“She’s a babe.” Terry raised his bottle and we clashed them together again. “Faye thinks she’s pretty talented. And Jack, well you know him . . . ” he shrugged. “He thinks she’s alright.’

Terry started picking the label off the bottle.

Alright? I imagined he’d said it with a shrug.

“Care to explain the grin?”

I was smiling? Of course I was. What I couldn’t get my head around was why. No, not why, I wasn’t that stupid. I got it. I just . . . I wasn’t liking where this was going. I didn’t want to think too much about it.

A good sleep and maybe it’d go away.

Yeah, I was just having an off day. Or something.

In the corner of my eye I saw a small, slender blonde walk through the door wearing a bright blue and black striped top. Her cheeks were flushed.

Like someone who’d just gotten in with a fake ID.

“Avice is here.”

Once she’d sat down at the bar, Terry winked. “Game on.”

Terry sidled out first and I followed, leaving a couple of steps between us and looking in the other direction. Like we didn’t know each other.

“Daaamn, you’re fine!” Terry whistled. “Love to have a bit of that ass. What you say lovely? My place is only a block away.”

“Not interested.”

Terry slapped a hand to his chest. “In this. Babe, you have no idea what you’d be missing.”

He stepped closer to her.

My cue to cut in. I bit the insides of my cheeks harder, not to give us up by laughing. “Hey man, back up. Leave her alone.’

I was pretty sure my lip wobbled.

“’s cool,” Terry said, raising his hands as if he meant no offence and walked backwards. “Not that fine anyway.”

I turned to Avice. “You okay? Some guys are losers. My name’s Drake.” I extended a hand.

She didn’t take it. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend, actually. So whatever bit you two are trying to play. It won’t work.”

“Bit?” I put on a frown.

“Don’t want to burst that bubble of yours, but that guy,” she pointed in Terry’s direction, “is obviously your wing-man.”

She was on to us, there was no point denying it. “What gave us away?”

“I study acting, and believe me, that was a C minus. If you’re lucky.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I was having trouble not laughing. Got any tips for that?”

“Try thinking of something sad. But look, I wasn’t acting when I said I have a boyfriend. Maybe you want to try your bit on that girl over there,” she pointed to a brunette with a low cut top on the other side of the bar. “Bet she won’t see through it. Or if she does, it doesn’t look like she’d mind.”

“Okay, this is going to sound far-out-there, but I promise this time I’m not making anything up.” I took a breath. “Truth is, I’m a detective. Last Wednesday a precious stone was stolen from the Berlin Museum of Natural History. You were there when the Red Eye disappeared, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

She gulped, and I knew she believed it.

“Now I wish you were acting,” she said, and I gave her a small smile. “How’d you know I was there?”

Unspoken, I heard the words: what else do you know?

I pointed to myself, mocking the move Terry made before. “Detective. Comes with the job. So what gives, Avice? Why were you checking out the museum?”

She swallowed audibly. Then said in a crackled whisper. “What else . . . what else do you know about me?” Her eyes narrowed.

I knew from reading her diary that she wanted her identity to remain secret. She was afraid if too many people knew about her she wouldn’t be able to lead a normal life here, which she was desperate to have. I knew all this, so it felt only courteous to lie. “Not much. That you live in New York and study at Julliard.”

She half-relaxed, as if she wanted to believe me but couldn’t quite. Then she froze again. “It was you! You were the imposters in my house.” She threw her drink into my face. “How dare you. My mother thought you were my friends, and you, you could’ve given her a heart attack!”

I blinked through sticky coke and bourbon. Yeah, this wasn’t going as smoothly as I’d have liked.

Her heated attack suddenly stopped as she paled. “You know about Dorwl?” she whispered. “But . . . but how?”

Terry, who was listening to everything, shook his head behind her.

I dabbed my face with a serviette. “Never mind that. Last Wednesday, you were with your granddad, right?”

She nodded slowly as if she was thinking of something else. It was now or never. Reaching into my satchel by my side, I subtly pulled out a small audio chip Faye had given me. Avice had her bag nicely by the foot of her stool. Dropping the scrunched up serviette, I bent down and slipped the pin sized chip into her bag.

“What were you doing there?” I asked, chucking the serviette on the bar top.

Her gaze focused on me, and she snapped, “Looking at fossils. What do you think we were doing?”

Not only that. I’d read that her granddad had asked to meet her there. To ‘talk’ about something. But what?

“Have fun?”

“The best.”

I refrained from raising my brow.

“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to steal such a large Red Eye?”

Her jaw twitched. “I don’t want to answer any more of your questions. You and your friend can get stuffed.” Her eyes flickered over my shoulder and she smiled.

Jerry had arrived.

She picked up her handbag and swung it over her shoulder.

“The best time, huh? That why you and granddaddy were fighting?”

She spun around to me, jabbing her finger into my chest. “We didn’t fight. Now, I’m warning you. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Broad shoulders were the first thing I noticed about Jerry. Bouncer-broad, as if with the flick of his arm he could clear a crowd of grown men. When he saw how upset Avice was, his eyes skimmed to me, face darkening. I looked away, bringing the beer bottle to my lips and swigged. Stale beer-water filled my mouth. Ugh! I could’ve spat it out, but caught the hard look Jerry was flashing at me and gulped.

He sauntered over, grabbing me by my shirt. “Unless you want to mess with me, you leave my girl alone. Got it?” For good measure, he pulled me off my stool and dragged me outside.

Terry scrambled after me, getting between us. “Cool off,” he said to Jerry. “We’re leaving.”

“You alright?” Terry asked on the walk back home.

“We probably should work on our game plan.’

“Yeah, that kind of sucked.”

“I’d say.” I thought my voice sounded rather flat.

“Cheer up. Band practice in a bit.” He winked. “And Chrissy . . . ”

I gave a weak nod.

Wasn’t this what I’d been looking forward to for months now? I liked the girl a lot. Like I’d said to Jack, she had spirit and was funny, easy to hang out with.

So why did a part of me dread asking her out tonight? Could it be nerves? Was I worried she’d shoot me down? I mean, there was a risk with this, and if it did go badly, what would that mean for the band? For things staying easy and relaxed around her?

I rubbed my head with the palm of my hand. Not liking a tiny voice trying to push its way to the forefront of my mind. Maybe there’s a reason you’re not feeling it. Maybe you should admit—

No, I said back. Nerves were normal—everyone had them. This is what this was. Like the first time I went on the London eye. I’d dreaded the ride up there; my stomach had felt like it wanted to burst right out of my ass. But then I forced my eyes open, and the nerves had been worth it. The view of London was spectacular. I’d fallen in love with the city all over again.

Wasn’t this thing with Chrissy just like this?

I breathed out slowly, nodding to myself. Yeah, once I’d finally asked her—once we were on the date it’d feel like the best thing ever again.

Much sooner than I’d expected or wanted, we were standing in front of our house. Terry slumped himself next to the door frame while turning off his walkman. The doorbell rang. “Whoops,” he said, pulling himself upright, and opening the door.

A strong smell of incense choked me as I walked in. “What’s been going on in here?” I fanned my hand in front of my nose and sprinted upstairs. When I entered the kitchen, everything was still. Jack and Faye sat at the table, reading magazines.

Huh.

“Watcha reading?” I asked.

“Ahhh . . . ” Faye said, her cheeks flushing.

“Um . . . ” Jack added.

“And what’s up with all the incense?”

I grabbed the second to last glass from the cupboard; already the dishes were piling up.

“Came as a freebie in the post,” Faye said. “Thought we’d try it out. Stinks.”

“I’d say.” I stopped the tap and drank, turning to lean against the oven. I jumped away, dropping my glass, luckily it didn’t break. “Yikes that’s hot!” I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had used the oven. All our dinners were strictly to stove-top affairs. “Since when do we use the—”

Then all at once things became clear to me. I understood why Faye’s jacket was in Terry’s room, why they’d been doing so much stuff together lately, why even Jack and Faye hung out together. So did the incense and the hot oven. Maybe even Jack’s mysterious call.

I grinned at them while crouching down to pick up the glass. Jack’s eyes were narrowed in my direction, Faye’s riveted to the magazine. From my position, I could see the cover. It was upside down. I bit my tongue to stop from laughing and quickly exited the room.

After a nice long shower, I spent ten minutes deciding what tee-shirt to wear. I needed to look like I didn’t care about what I was wearing, but still look good.

A simple black tee with crisscrossed red drumsticks imprinted on the lower right side made the final cut.

“Alright.” Terry hollered from my door. “Set up the stage in the garage. Have you guys finally come up with a band name?”

I shook my head. “Still tossing up between Just Jitters and the Manic Hedgehogs. Just Jitters has a great ring to it, but Manic Hedgehog was the title of Radiohead’s fourth demo tape—”

“Guys,” Faye interrupted. “I’m setting up the eBay auction and I need to take a picture of what we’re selling. Mine’s done. Terry?”

Argh. I wished they’d forgotten about that.

“I’ll bring it up to your room,” Terry said.

“Drake?”

With hanging shoulders I moved over to my record collection and leafed through them until I’d found my only valuable possession.

“Should get at least 250 pounds.” Reluctantly, I handed Refused’s The Shape of Punk to Come over.

“Thanks.” Faye gave a sorry smile and left.

“Sorry bro.”

It wasn’t Terry’s fault. I shrugged and diverted my attention toward the Drupes newspaper lying on my desk. I liked how their paper was made of cloth, like tea towels, making it easier to stuff into small places. The best thing about that was it didn’t rustle.

“Anything useful in there?” Terry asked.

“Haven’t read it yet,” I said.

“Better leave you to it then. See you in half an hour or so. By the way, my vote is for the Manic Hedgehogs. You guys all like to spike your hair. . . Well, not Chrissy, I suppose, but . . . ” His voice drifted off down the hall.

I jumped on my bed, holding the paper out above me. On the second page was a campaign picture of Bernlak Fitzroy mid wink. The word swagger came to mind. I browsed through the headlines, none of which seemed too interesting. Flicking further through the paper, my eyes caught on something in the travel section.

Putting my finger between the pages as a place holder, I ran upstairs.

Laid out on the table were a couple of Terry’s projects. Jack was taking pictures and Faye was connecting a cable to her laptop.

“What’s up, Drake?” Faye was the only one to look up.

I shook the local paper in their faces. Jack and Terry stopped working. “Recognize this?” I flashed them a small picture.

Jack was the one to answer. Of course. “It’s the cabinet in the museum,” then his face dawned with understanding, “with the Red Eye in it.”

The title read: Travel Special Earth: Last Showing Before Auction.

For two weeks the largest found Beryl will be displayed at the Museum of Natural History in Berlin, Germany (World) before it will be auctioned off to raise money for...

“Advertised in the Drupes Herald,” I said.

“Thank God,” Faye said. “It bugged me not knowing why there were so many Dowrl visitors.”

“Exactly.” I gave her a smile and she threw one back at me.

I sat down, leafing through the paper. Near the end of it, I saw a small article about the Dragon Slavery Abolition Movement. Thinking about the chained dragons made me want to punch a Drupian. I just didn’t get how the people couldn’t see how wrong it was. I couldn’t wait to hold up protest signs with Professor Thomas Quincey.

Jack must have sensed my tension, because he put down his camera and peered over my shoulder. His cool breath tickled my throat, making the little hairs stand on end. He started reading:

Sixty-seven Dragons have been sentenced and put to death this year for speaking out against cruelty and segregation.

“I didn’t think they could speak,” Faye murmured, closing her laptop.

I pointed to a small, blurry picture. “They can breathe out their smoke in images. Like cartoon-strips,” I said.

Jack shivered. Instinctively, I leaned back to him while he continued to read, the tips of my hair brushing against him.

Drupes is the last district allowing this horrid tradition. Only the mayor has the power to stop dragons being treated as slaves, although so far none of the candidates has indicated to take this course of action as dragon slavery remains widely popular. Professor Thomas Quincey of Drupes University and spokesperson of the DSAM (Dragon Slavery Abolition Movement), has said that although this would be an essential start, it will take many years to integrate dragons into all facets of society. “Unfortunately, acceptance of the general population will be the biggest challenge to overcome. There is a lot of prejudice that won’t wash away with a few well-spoken words.”

Jack’s hand knocked against the back of mine. An accident, I’m sure, but a tingling sensation jolted through me. I sprang away from him. “Was that the doorbell?”

Terry looked at me in surprise, one eyebrow raised. “Didn’t hear anything.” His eyes flickered briefly from me to Jack and he shrugged. “Then again, your bell has always been the quietest. Do you want me to set a new bell—”

A loud and clear ding-dong interrupted him.

Faye smiled. “Sounds like Drake just needs his ears checked.”

On my way out the room, I snuck a look at Jack, but his face was hidden behind a camera. I whisked down two sets of spiral stairs. Who would I find at the door, Ben, Simon . . . Chrissy? Or maybe they all came together? I took a quick glance in the mirror. Hair, check. Dimple, check. Good luck earring, check.

I yanked open the door. Ben and Simon stood there, wide grins on their faces.

“I’m psyched!” was the first thing Simon said, raising his hand for a high five. I slapped hard.

“Gig’s all he’s been talking about.” Ben smirked.

“All we’ve been obsessing about, more like,” Simon said. “We in the garage ‘gain?”

“Terry’s set it up,” I said, closing the door behind them.

“Where is our biggest fan, then?” Simon called out, racing up to the kitchen. I heard Terry’s signature thwack. “Jeez mate, stings every time!”

Ben and I headed for the garage. “Chrissy not here yet?”

At the sound of her name my palms started to sweat. It wasn’t long now till midnight. Not long till I finally asked her out.

“Slacker . . . ” Ben said, chuckling. “We’d better keep a short leash on her next week. No way we’re going to blow this thing.”

Terry and Simon bounded behind us. “Chrissy late again?” Terry said, when I looked at the stage he’d set up. Including Chrissy’s drums. (She stored them at our place.) “Dragged them out myself to save you guys time.”

“Cheers,” I said. “You guys set yourselves up here. Just gonna grab my guitar. Won’t be a tick.”

I’d just left the garage when the bell rang again. This time it had to be Chrissy. My heart pumped faster and I forced myself to walk slower not to trip up the stairs. Besides, I didn’t want to look too eager.

“’Allo,” I heard Chrissy’s rich accent, “they down there already?” I paused on the staircase. See, I really was nervous!

Then I heard someone mumble, but didn’t catch who. I crossed my fingers Faye had answered the door and took the stairs three at a time to make sure.

I stopped abruptly on the top stair.

Crap. It was Jack.