Page 114 of Sinners Reunion

“And then there’s me. I’ve been around for a few months, and you don’t really know much more about me now than you did then.”

I take a swig of the beer and set it on the rock. “Your birthday is May fifth. When you were seven years old, you won a poetry contest by plagiarizing Dr. Seuss. You enjoy olives on your sub sandwiches, but never on your pizza.”

He finally looks at me. “That other shit is probably in your files. How’d you know that bit about the olives, though?”

I shrug. “I pay much closer attention than you realize.”

“I feel like an ass,” Aven says.

“Don’t. If anything, you’ve made me feel quite a bit more important than I’ve any right to feel. That’s a feat when I already feel so important all the time.”

That brings a proper laugh out of him.

“You’ve made all of us proud, and I’m the first to admit I’m glad we’ve brought you into the fold,” I say. “I’m sorry I haven’t made that clear enough.”

A weight rises off my chest as I bring the cool, crisp beer to my lips again. I don’t usually drink the stuff, but it fit the occasion.

Maybe it’s the beer buzz getting to me, but I’m feeling a little lightheaded with joy. I wasn’t sure I could get Aven to come around, but it’s looking better by the minute.

Bennett gives us a wave, and Aven waves back.

“Do you think Ezra and Bennett would let me slit our dad’s throat when we finally meet him?”

I’ll keep working on him.

Ice Pick motions us over. Aven declines, instead choosing to hurry back to Quinn’s arms, but since Josie’s probably fast asleep, I see no harm in staying a bit longer. With my beer in hand, I stroll over and take a seat by the fire.

Eve yawns and stretches her arms above her head. Cat does the same. Bennett, Ice Pick, and Blayne sit on the other side of the flames. A guitar rests over Blayne’s knees, and I have a mental image of me smashing it over his head. Repeatedly.

Smoke curls toward my face, and I try to duck out of the way. The cloying wisp follows my every move. I give up and accept defeat as it burns my corneas.

“You gonna finish that beer?” Ice Pick asks.

I shake my head, lean forward, and hand it off. He knocks it back and finishes it in three gulps. Then he lets out a belch that rattles my eardrums. Eve applauds.

“If you aren’t gonna play anything, let me see that guitar.” Bennett flicks his fingers toward Blayne, but the curly-haired Decepticon readies the instrument instead of passing it on.

“Any requests?” he asks. He glances around the group until his eyes land on me. “How about ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’? Or maybe Everclear is more your speed. Anyone know ‘Father of Mine’?”

My blood runs cold. Songs about absentee fathers—what the fuck does Blayne think he knows?

“Those sound pretty lame, Blayne. I don’t know neither one of them.” Ice Pick belches again. “How about some Nickelback?”

Oh, Jesus wept. He would like Nickelback.

“I have a request,” I say, and Blayne’s gaze flicks back to me. “What was that song by The Cars? It’s slipped my mind . . .” I tap my chin, but he already knows where I’m going with this. “Oh! I remember. Do you happen to know ‘My Best Friend’s Girl’?”

He strums the first few chords, though I can’t say I care for the twang of his acoustic.

“Come on, King. Let’s see if you can stump me with one I don’t know.” Blayne grins, and to everyone else, I’m sure he looks like a charming young man. I see the snake for what he is. That grin is all malice.

“On second thought, I think I’m ready to turn in. If you’ll excuse me.” I stand and turn to leave, but Blayne’s voice stops me from taking the first step.

“How ’bout a wager? I’ll bet my great grandmother’s ring you can’t stump me with a song I can’t play.”

Blast.

“And if you win?” I turn to face him again.