Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin by Mariana Zapata Read Free Book Online Page A

sets, I hadn’t thought about killing that piece of crap once.
----
    “ S houldn’t you go eat something soon?”
    I finished setting the last cymbal on the stand and tightened it down, glancing at my brother over the top of his drum kit. He was closing the travel cases since we were mostly done setting up his stuff. We usually tag-teamed putting together his drum kit to save time; I’d done it so many times I could do it with my eyes closed. Most of the time he helped me bring most of the merch into the venue right after we got to wherever the tour package was playing, and then I’d help the guys set up their equipment to do soundcheck since it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. There was usually so much time before doors opened that I’d rather keep busy than sit around.
    But today we’d gotten to Little Rock almost three hours late, thanks to a major accident. Now, everything and everyone was running behind schedule, including soundcheck.
    I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a peek at the clock with a wince. Doors were opening in two hours. “Damn it, I didn’t know it was so late.”
    Eli turned to look at me over his shoulder from where he was kneeling. He raised his eyebrows. “I mean, you could go without a meal or two—”
    He should have known better than to talk shit when he was on his knees. I shoved him.
    “Whore!” he cried as toppled over like a chopped-down tree.
    “Your mother,” I muttered as I kept right on walking past him to sit on the edge of the stage before hopping down. By the time I was back on my feet, Eli was again on his knees, glaring over in my direction. “I’m going to grab something to eat.”
    He was still giving me a dirty look when he said, “I can’t go with you. We gotta do soundcheck.”
    I shrugged both shoulders; it wasn’t like I didn’t already know that. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
    He blinked. And then he simply raised a fist with his middle finger fully extended.
    I stuck my tongue out and went to look for the only other person that might be able to go out to eat with me.
    The venue hadn’t provided us with food and instead had opted to give the tour members buy-out money to fend for ourselves. The TCC tour manager, who was also doing sound for them and Ghost Orchid, had walked around a few minutes earlier and passed out everyone’s cash. For once in his life, Eli had been right. If I waited any longer to go on the hunt for food, I wouldn’t make it back in time for the start of the show. According to Mason, I had something called a job. Like I didn’t know what the hell that was.
    In no time, I found my new friend Carter, the TCC merch guy, sitting outside of the trailer surrounded by a huge pile of boxes. Clenching a clipboard, he shot me a tight smile, scratching at one of the legs of the knee-length cutoff skinny jeans he’d put on that day.
    “Still busy?” I asked, looking at the cardboard boxes that had been waiting outside when the bus had rolled in an hour ago.
    Carter let out this long sigh straight from his belly. His normally passive face was clearly exasperated. Even his ponytail was limp. We’d gotten to know each other over the hours of free time we shared at the merch tables. He wasn’t much of a talker unless you prodded him, but he was hardworking and kind. Mostly though, when the people I usually spent time with were louder than howler monkeys, I really enjoyed his company. “I’m only halfway done with inventory, and I need to get it all done before the show.” He shot me a flat look that drew his lip piercing tight. “By myself.”
    I grimaced, knowing all too well how frustrated he got with The Cloud Collision guys. They all basically left him on his own to do everything. According to Carter, it was pretty normal for bands at their level to feel entitled to do that, but I still pointed at him and said “ha” when he’d first told me. It was occasions like those that made me appreciate playing the sister card