Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin

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Authors: Mariana Zapata
counter came over with our order. Sacha’s bowl was shades of green and brown while mine was a red curry dish. It must have been a sign of how hungry we both were that neither one of us said a word as we tore into our food. When I finished before him, I got up and ordered Carter the same thing I’d gotten.
    He smiled at me from behind the rim of his glass as he finished off the last of his tea when I sat back down. “Thanks for being a good sport and eating here. I usually have to pay one of the guys to come with me.”
    “Why? They don’t like Thai?” I asked. I wasn’t a picky eater. You could put a vegan dish in front of me, or fried chicken, and it was going to get devoured.
    “Not at all. None of them like spicy food,” he said, setting the glass on the table.
    “But not all of the food is spicy…”
    He blinked. “I know.”
    “Babies,” I muttered, a little unsure how he’d handle me calling his friends that.
    He beamed at me. “Huge babies.”
    “They don’t know what good food is.”
    “Right? If it were up to them, we’d get fast food every day. All I’m asking for is a little Chipotle at least.”
    “Chipotle’s high class.” I smiled.
    He lifted a shoulder. “I’m a high-class kind of guy.”
    Yeah, I couldn’t hold the joke back despite how inappropriate it might be considering we didn’t know each other well. But screw it. Kicking him in the ass was like jumping ahead three months in a friendship. “You know who else is high class? Hookers. Hookers are high class.”
    Sacha didn’t even miss a beat. He blinked those clear gray eyes at me and asked very seriously, “Do you know from experience?”
    Was he seriously calling me a hooker on our first expedition out?
    By the smile on his face, I would say yes. Yes, he was.
    I think I’d found a friend.

Chapter Five
    Where are you today?
    I had to refer to the list of dates we had on the wall. Every day felt like a near repeat of the one before, and after the first week of The Rhythm & Chord Tour, I’d lost track of what city was next. Since there usually wasn’t enough time to go sightseeing, one place looked just like the rest; maybe one venue was nicer than the other but since that was really all we got to see, it didn’t make a difference.
    I texted Laila back:
    New Orleans.
    A minute later, I got a response from her:
    Don’t flash anyone. It isn’t Mardi Gras no matter what anyone tells you.

    That’s all you, hooker.
    She knew exactly what I was referring to: her twenty-second birthday, Mardi Gras in Galveston, two in the morning. If I tried, I could still hear my screams at her flashing an unsuspecting crowd after one too many Long Island Iced Teas.
    OMG. STFU. If I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen.
    I’d helped her change out her catheter more than once in the past, so it wasn’t like I was horrified or anything remotely close by her bare boobs. But still. I felt obligated to give her a hard time over it.
    I wish I didn’t :P

    LOL. I’m about to teach a class. LY.

    Have fun. Love you too.
    I set my cell back down and sighed.
    It was only about three in the afternoon, and we’d been parked at the venue for close to two hours. My brother, Mason and a couple of the guys in The Cloud Collision had decided to go “hang out with some friends in town.” In reality what this meant was that they were doing something they couldn’t do in the bus.
    As much as I loved Eli and Mason, I hated seeing them high or drunk, so I opted out of tagging along. Instead I plastered myself in the back room of the bus with one of the books I’d stuffed in my bag before leaving home. I was on The Boy in the Striped Pajamas this week. Even though I was having fun spending time with my three idiots, still getting to know Carter, and sucking at Mario Kart when I played against Mason in the morning, the whole living-with-ten-other-people-thing was difficult.
    Even though I missed my parents, Rafe, Gil, their kids and Laila, I missed the

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