"It is absolutely not enough, but it was all that they’d agree to," he said, his voice rushed but reassuring. He apparently hadn't heard the part where I'd just informed him that it was way above my pay grade. "I'll write you a check for more if you need it."

  It was more than I'd made career-wise in the past six months. Doing what I loved had always meant more than the money that it garnered. Besides, the crummy income hadn’t mattered when I had Bernie's money as an alternative. But now…Now I needed it. "I don't need your money," I found myself saying. "And I can't take this," I added, waving the check in front of my face, wishing like hell I didn’t have a conscience. "It's too much and I didn't earn it."

  His hand slid over mine, my eyes staring down at the piece of paper that we held. The paper that meant my survival in this town for at least another couple of months and the promise that my stored things wouldn't be on one of those reality television shows being auctioned off to the highest bidder.

  "It's the least that I can do," he said softly. "And I'm really sorry about leaving you at that motel."

  Dammit. I hated his apologies. They always seemed heartfelt. He'd been practicing in a mirror - I was sure of it. He confirmed my suspicions when he flashed his baby blues in my direction. "It was me," I said hurriedly. "I asked you to-"

  "No, now dammit, it's my fault," he said cutting in. His hand was on my shoulder squeezing before I knew what was happening. "I should've never agreed to it. No matter how hard you begged me," he said.

  A curved finger found my chin, nudging it playfully. I took a precautionary step back. His touch had done little more than reminded me of Griff. This wasn't good. I would’ve rather his touch affected me somehow, made my knees weak, my heart pitter-patter – something, anything but remind me of his brother. Why couldn’t my mind be contented with casual like usual? Why was it adamant about chasing after complicated? I was in an odd predicament and with all of the conflicting emotions that I was going through, this recent Griff fixation was the absolute last thing that I needed.

  As if Sutter sensed my internal struggle, she inserted herself into my peripheral and our conversation. "Now I know you don't know my brother well enough to know this, but he's not going to take no for an answer," she said softly, forcing a smile. "Best bet is to take the money, Kennedy, and let us take you wherever you need to go. Mick's management and PR team will go over the fine details, make sure everything blows over and call you when they get the all clear."

  My heart stopped. Literally froze in place. All of the emotions that had been bottled inside, harnessed because it was what I'd always been taught to do, sprang from my eyelids like the retinas held tiny springboards. I sobbed like a baby - big, hiccupping sounds emerging from my lips as I was suddenly surrounded by three people trying to sooth the crying fool. I'd effectively become a Callahan sandwich.

  As I cried for an endless list of things - my silly mistakes, my botched demo, my shortcomings musically, an absent father…just to name a few items on the list - my brain tried to sort through the responses that were coming all at once.

  "Oh sweetie, everything will be fine-" Sutter.

  "I'm sorry, Sugar. I'm going to fix this-" Mick.

  "It must've been the bacon-" Hannah.

  "It's nothing. I'm fine," I blubbered, realizing that this had very quickly turned into a big old ugly cry session. God, why hadn't I just started that journal? Maybe written down some of my thoughts, some of my emotions? Surely that would've relieved the internal ball of tension that I'd allowed to swell to massive proportions.

  I finally managed to pull it together enough to free myself from their suffocating sympathy, placing as much distance between them and myself that the condo would allow. I stared out of the window, again seeking comfort in the city before me. "I'm sorry. Haven't done that in a while," I admitted, a tearful chuckle springing from my lips.

  "Everyone needs a good cry every now and then," Sutter offered, always the voice of reason. "Hell, I cried watching Spongebob with Hannah this morning."

  I snickered again, despite my leaky eyes that still hadn't quite managed to close the floodgates entirely. I sighed heavily, feeling compelled to inform them of the current status of my finances. "I let the lease go on my apartment before I went on tour. I sold most of my things for a little extra cash," I admitted, pausing briefly because it still hurt to think of all my things gone. "I had planned to figure it out after the tour when I had some money saved up, but-"

  "It's okay," Mick said from behind me, a little closer than I'd anticipated. "You can stay here if you want-"

  "Like hell she can," Griff grumbled from the doorway, the door banging shut behind him.

  "Griff-" Sutter warned, taking a few angry steps in his direction. I caught her sideways glance at Hannah and the mental calculation that her brain performed, ultimately causing her to rethink her initial impulse to react emotionally.

  My eyes connected with Griff’s, his icy glare enough to make me shiver. And, apparently, cause my heart to race. He stood ready to defend the side of the argument that left me out on the streets. His eyes raked over me dismissively, disgusted. I wanted so desperately to run, to rid myself of taking any responsibility for putting that distaste in his eyes, but I couldn’t.

  “She’s staying,” Mick said seriously, the authority in his voice unwavering.

  Hannah clapped excitedly, bouncing from foot to foot. "Yay, she's staying," she sung.

  "No, she's not," Griff interjected, his eyes never losing the death grip stare that held me captive.

  "Yes, she is and if I hear one more thing about it, I'll sell the damned place right out from under you and she'll be staying out at the ranch, your ass on the streets. You got that?" Mick questioned.

  “That’d be fun!” Hannah squealed. “Uncle Griff, she likes bacon!”

  “What?” he and Mick both questioned.

  “Nothing,” Sutter interjected, scurrying forward to usher Hannah towards a bedroom off to the side. “She’s strangely fascinated with bacon this morning. Boys, we’ll be in the next room, which means she can still hear you,” she warned from the doorway before disappearing inside.

  "Since when do you have a right to make that sort of decision?"

  "Since I own the place," Mick said. His voice was lethal; his point hard to argue. "And I own fifty percent of yours.”

  The muscles in Griff’s jaw flexed. I sucked in my cheek. How did it get this way? Two brothers? A close-knit family? Kole and I had had our fair share of disagreements, sure, but they had always remained just that...and temporary. She was my rock, a voice of reason when I needed it. The one I always turned to when in a jam. Speaking of…

  “What are you doing here anyway?" Mick demanded, not ready to give up the fight.

  "Not that it's any of your damned business, but I had to meet the band that's playing tonight. Lucy's called in because her youngest son, David, has the flu-"

  "Kennedy, you just got yourself a new position,” Mick said, snapping excited fingers as he turned towards me. “I can’t believe that I hadn’t thought of this before.”

  My face flushed hot. He couldn’t possibly be serious, could he? Nothing about this seemed even remotely like a good idea. “Don’t I get a say?” I questioned, gulping hot air down a dry windpipe.

  “Of course you do,” Mick said shrugging his thick shoulders. I got the impression that he didn’t really mean it.

  "I think you're forgetting the small problem of her making front page news for canoodling with you, Mr. Famous," Griff snarled, his dislike for the idea evident.

  Mick ignored Griff’s outburst. "We'll get you a wig or dye your hair before you're dealing with customers," he offered, hatching out his plan with little regard to mine or Griff’s distaste for it. "Look, it'll work. Most of Lucy’s work is behind the scenes anyway – finding and auditioning talent, answering phones, paying the bills…No one would ever assume that you'd be working at Callahan's."

  "This is the dumbest plan that you’ve ever come up with," Griff said, folding his arms across his chest. “And there have been some pretty dumb ones.”

  Bands of thick muscle in his forearms flexed over bone causing the muscle in my chest to do the same. I had to get a handle on that pesky organ of mine or I was going to have a heart attack.

  "It's a great idea," Mick countered. “You start right now," he beamed.

  “What about when Lucy returns?” I spat, trying desperately to grasp for a straw that would provide me with an out. From the grin that spread across Mick’s face, I could see that I’d clearly failed.

  “Just between you and me,” Mick said, taking steps to close the distance between us - a bold move considering his brother was standing a few yards from us. I would’ve backed up, but my backside was already pressing against the window. “She’s never been our biggest asset.”

  “She’s a reliable employee,” Griff pointed out, his frustration growing with every passing moment. “But you wouldn’t know anything about reliability, would you?”

  Mick held up a silencing hand. “Save it, Griff. As long as Sutter agrees – which I already know she will – you’re outnumbered. Two-thirds to one-third,” he mocked, his nose coming in close enough to nuzzle my neck. I grabbed at the window behind me, my hands acting more as suction cups than stabilizers. “Gotta hate that,” he mumbled into my hair.

  I finally found enough courage to sidestep whatever other action he had in mind in the ways of wooing me, while at the same time managing to ignore the condescending glare that Griff was shooting in our direction.

  "You ever bartend?"

  "No, never," I mumbled trying to wrap my brain around the recent changes in my life. I had gone from penniless, to jobless, to talent scout in less than forty-eight hours.

  "See," Griff pointed out angrily. "Not qualified."

  “Fuck off, Griff,” Mick yelled across the room, the suddenness of his anger causing me to jump.

  Sutter swung the door open, her eyes narrowing at her brothers. “I warned you,” she shouted, her voice demanding the attention of all three of us. “I heard every word. Griff, you lose the Kennedy argument. She’s got a job until it’s no longer needed.” She earned a groan from Griff and an award winning grin - literally - from Mick. “And, Mick, you can be a real prick to your brother. Try to work on that,” she added, the smug look suddenly sliding right off his face.

  I couldn’t help but grin at the looks of bewilderment on both of their faces. Mother hen had arrived, playing referee as she called the shots. "Now, since the band will arrive in fifteen minutes or so, I think we better get our new employee acquainted with the bar and her duties.

  "Griff, please make yourself useful and meet with the other employees to prepare them for a new team member," she ordered. Griff turned and left the room as quickly as he'd entered it, grumbling obscenities until the door slammed behind him. "Mick…" she said pausing. "Stay here and cool off before heading down."

  "Oh, I wasn't planning on-"

  "It'd be a nice morale booster for the employees to see your face," she informed him, foiling his planned escape. "Especially since it's your face that kept them here into the wee hours of the morning."

  "Hmmphh," he grumbled, not liking her accusation.

  It was clear, as loving as she could be, she could be equally as motherly. The more I saw the two of them together, the more I realized she needed to be. Their father had passed away, that I had already learned and considering they hadn't brought up their mother, I had to assume that something similar had happened to her.

  "What should I wear?" I questioned, arms splaying out to my side.

  "We're a jeans and tank bunch. Those'll do fine," she said pointing to the pair I was wearing. "We'll supply the tank. We've got plenty downstairs. Hannah, come on out," she called.

  "I guess that's that," I said shrugging, watching as Hannah barreled out of the bedroom, burrowing into her mother's side. I took that as my cue to follow. I didn't want the boss lady mad at me, not if there was a chance of her turning that assertiveness on me.

  "Mick, I mean it when I say give it fifteen," Sutter cautioned. "Sarah is downstairs and I don't want her to be hit with seeing you first thing."

  "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means that after you slept with her last time and didn't call, she cried for weeks."

  He shut his mouth down on a response as I struggled to stifle a laugh. There was nothing more satisfying than putting a man in his place.

  *****

  Turns out having Sarah there as a distraction for Mick wound up being a blessing. He spent most of the early afternoon trying to erase his douchiness from her memory while Sutter, Hannah and I met the band, went over their set list and put the finishing touches on preparations for the evening's guests.

  Callahan's didn't serve food, so they didn't keep day shift hours, but on a normal day, I had learned, they would've been open already. Sutter wasn't lying when she had said that Mick's presence in the city, coupled with recent events, had nearly shut the place down. It had tripled their sales, but exhausted the staff and left the place in shambles that morning.

  By the time the doors were opened, I had found myself a quiet nook located in the small loft area above the worn wooden planks below. It was precisely where I wanted to be - alone.

  Alone to think and alone to process.

  I was told no one would bother me up here and considering the size of the burley guy at the foot of the steps, I felt safe. Sutter and Hannah had left some time ago with the promise of visiting soon, Mick had made himself scarce - possibly off performing one of his fame duties - and Griff was probably busy brooding or being angry, two things that he did very well.

  My phone lit up in the dark. I smirked. It was a 911 from my sister, which meant the news had made it across the pond. As bad as I wanted to talk to her, the conversation would have to wait. Considering the explaining that I needed to do, texting was out and there wasn't a chance in hell she could hear me over the noise below. In these situations, noise did exactly what smoke did…it rose.

  Plus I was tired. Too tired to go over everything. So, so tired…

  Chapter Eight

  I stretched and yawned, nearly falling off of the hard crimson plastic that covered the booth. The last time I'd fallen asleep in a bar - correction, passed out - I'd been so drunk on tequila that I'd lost a whole sixteen hours and a bassist.

  I sat abruptly, realizing that the bar was eerily quiet and the sun reached out for me through the doors. There wasn't a soul in sight. Shit. My first night on the job and I had passed out. I gripped the edges of the bench, my hand nudging something beside me. When I looked down, I saw scribbled writing across the front of a piece of paper that read:

  YOU'RE FIRED!

  Those words had been crossed through with completely different writing that read:

  NO YOU'RE NOT (OVER)

  I flipped the page over, knowing immediately that it was Griff who'd written the first part and Mick who'd swooped in to save me. Too bad my brain seemed to want it to be the other way around.

  Sorry I'm leaving you like this, but you looked so peaceful that I couldn't wake you. I'm obligated to several interviews and radio shows tomorrow and won't have time to catch up before the show tomorrow night. Then it's off to another city. Because that's my life. I wish it weren't, but it is. Don't hesitate to call me. Sutter knows to give you my number. I'll be in touch about the tour. Until then, kick Griff in the balls if he tries anything.

  Mick

  P.S. Sarah means nothing to me.

  P.S.S. I like bacon too.

  I forced a smile. It was nice - kind - and in a situation full of insults, I should've felt more deeply connected. If I didn't know better, didn't understand Mick's womanizing ways, I'd almost be inclined to believe that he was interested. And dammit-to-hell if he was because my heart seemed to finally be interested in the possibility of something solid, something firm. Just not with Mick.

  My phone chirped, making me jump. I maneuvered myself around enough on the bench to fish it out of my back pocket.

  "Hello."

  "Kennedy? Is that you? Tell me it's you," Kole questioned, concern crossing an entire ocean and making its way to me. "Kennedy?"

  "Yes, Kole, I'm here." I wiped the sleep out of my eyes, glad to hear her voice, but preparing myself for what I was about to go through. Kole did not see the humor in my careless ways. There was a downfall to her being the more put together sibling and I was about to experience it.

  "Oh thank God!" I swear, I could hear her saying a prayer of thanks through the phone. "When you didn't answer my calls or texts…Oh never mind," she rambled. I glanced down at the screen on my phone. Twelve missed phone calls and twenty-one texts. Kole was even more persistent than Mel. "Now, can we discuss this thing I'm seeing on the television?"

  "I suppose you're referring to the soft core porno that I shot the other day," I teased because it was Kole, and I knew it'd piss her off. I wouldn't be a true baby sister without ruffling her feathers every now and then. "I gotta tell you, I was against it from the start-"

  "Kennedy, this is not funny," she spat into the phone. "Stop being immature and listen to me."

  "Kole, if this is where you go all motherly on me…" I heeded the same warning that I had recently given to her in my ex-apartment. That had been about thirty minutes prior to Santiago showing up at my doorstep. Now that was a hunk of a man. My sister was beyond lucky. I mean, who does things like that? That kind of chivalry? Crossing an entire ocean to chase after the woman that you love?

  "Kennedy? Kenny?!?" she yelled, using my childhood nickname. "Dammit are you listening to me?"

  "Yes, of course," I lied.