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Opening his bag, I grab a fry and hold it out to him. His lips wrap around it, his eyes on the road, and he eats it in one bite.

In between my Sweet Stack, I feed him another. And another. His jaw works as he chews, the streetlights sliding across his profile.

The warmth of the car, Kain’s steady driving, and the soft instrumental on the radio wrap around me.

By the time we reach the Blue Note, we’ve eaten all the fries, and I’m stirring what’s left of the sundae into a chocolate slurry, scraping the bottom of the cup.

Kain pulls into the parking lot behind the lounge. Weathered brick rises three stories, a single light glowing beside the door. No sign announces the lounge’s presence, but music leaks through the walls in a deep, steady rhythm. Security lights shine down on the packed rows of cars.

Kain cuts the engine. “Ready?”

Slurping up the last of my sundae through my straw, I give him a thumbs-up.

The Blue Note’s front door opens into warmth and dim lighting. The bar stretches along one side, the dark wood polished to a soft gleam. Booths line the opposite side, the backs high enough to offer a semblance of privacy. Tables fill the floor between, leading up to the dance floor and stage at the back.

A blues-heavy pulse rolls over the crowd from the opening band.

Kain’s hand rests between my shoulder blades, guiding me through the room. His bandmates are already gathered off to one side, instruments at the ready.

Lev and Ash sit in a nearby booth. Lev, in a soft sweater with his dark hair loose and parted, belongs in a bookstore rather than a lounge. Beside him, Ash sits coiled, every line of his body taut. His olive-hued skin catches the amber light as his fingers drum a quick one-two-three pattern on the tabletop.

Kain steers me toward them. “Behave.”

I puff my cheeks at him. “I always behave.”

He clearly disagrees, but he’s already turning toward the stage, slipping through the crowd with natural grace.

I slide into the booth beside Lev. My farming sim tablet sits in my pocket, a reassuring pressure along my thigh. I could pull it out and start planting my new garden, but I don’t.

Ash lifts his mug in greeting, coffee steaming from the top.

Lev sets down his whiskey sour to turn in the booth toward me. “All geared up for the competition?”

“Should be good.” I pat my pocket. “I’ll practice more in a bit to keep my timing tight, but I’m nailing the beats.”

“The posts I set up have been pulling in new subscribers.” He brings out his phone to show me the stats. “Kain said he’ll be live-streaming the event, which should grow your list even more.”

Good for my subscriber list, I guess, but I don’t care as long as I can keep paying our bills with my hyper fixation. “What about the Blue Note? How’s that going?”

“Slower,” Lev laments. “We should advertise that we’re open earlier.”

“We don’t need more people all up in our business,” Ash grunts. “There are already plenty.”

Lev rolls his eyes. “Customers bring in cash flow. This is a business.”

“Customers are nosy fucks,” Ash counters.

“Customers,” Lev says through gritted teeth, “are a good screen so our people’s movements go unnoticed.”

A server passes, and Lev raises two fingers to signal for a refill. The man heads toward the bar.

I lean forward, my elbows on the table. “I’m on Lev’s side about customers. Dusk Protocol has a quest that involves picking the pocket of the local thief lord, who is a character you can woo, and⁠—”

“Nope.” Ash sets his mug down with a firm click. “I’m not going down that rabbit hole again. I need a drink.”

Not willing to wait for the server to circle back around, he gets up from the table and strides toward the bar.

Lev shakes his head at his prickly friend. Ash has been part of our group longer, but somehow, Lev already handles him better than most of us do.