“You are such a study in contrasts. A farmer who parties. A smart man who’s stupid about women. The guy who likes goats and dirty sex, but not at the same time.”
I put a hand on Rickie’s flannel-covered shoulder and push him back toward his corner of the couch, while he laughs.
“Wait,” Keith says, entering the living room. “Who thinks goats are sexy?”
“Nobody!” Jesus.
“Dyllie Bean! I’m just teasing you,” Keith says. “Dude, I finally got us a gig! A real one. The LGBT Committee is hiring us to play one of their Guerrilla Night events.”
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me! It’s a ninety-minute set at a bar. It’s a paid gig, Dyl. We’re splitting five hundred bucks. And it’s this Friday.”
“Friday? No way. I can’t.”
“Why?” Keith whines.
“Because I’m showing my feelings with actions, not words.”
“What? Have you two been hitting the bong without me?” Keith paces towards the sofa and sniffs the air.
Rickie laughs. “No, we’re getting high on our homework. And Dylan is stressing over a girl.”
Keith turns around and sits heavily down on the couch between us. Or he tries to, but he lands halfway on top of us.
I give his flannel-covered butt a nudge. “Dude. Did I invite you to cuddle?”
“Sex is the only way to get your attention. Do I have to blow you to make this gig happen? I want to play guitar for money. And there will probably be free drinks if we smile pretty.”
“When did you say this was?” I ask, sliding over a few inches to make room for him.
“Friday night. Eight thirty until ten.”
“Do we even have ninety minutes of music?”
“We do if we practice.”
I shake my head and check my email again, just in case Chastity happens to be sitting at the library in front of a computer terminal right this second. “How much does an entry-level Netbook cost?” I ask Keith, who knows more about computers than I do.
“Three or four hundred bucks,” he says. “For a piece of crap, though. You don’t want that machine.”
“It’s not for me,” I mumble as my phone rings. I grab it, in case it’s Chastity.
It’s not. It’s my bitchy twin sister. She never calls. In fact, the last time she called me it was an accident. “Hello? Daphne? Did you butt dial me again?”
“Dylan,” Daphne says. “How are you?”
“How am I? Fine. Why?”
“What do you mean why? That’s how phone calls are supposed to begin.”
I let out a snort. “You never call me to shoot the shit, Daph. What do you need?”
“A place to stay this weekend. In Burlington.”
“I’m supposed to go home,” I say immediately. “Griff would kill me. And I have to make caramels with Chastity.”
“Dyl,” she says in a low voice. “Please? I need this, and I already told Griffin that you weren't coming home, because I was going to visit you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Just now.”
“And Griffin said that was fine?”
“He can get Zach for some extra hours this weekend to cover you.”
I sit with that a moment, trying to decide how annoyed to be. “Okay. You can stay one night, but I really do have to make caramels. Chastity is mad at me and—”
“Why?”
Oops. “That’s personal. But I can’t screw this up.”
“Did you sleep with her?” my sister asks, because she has never respected my boundaries. Or anyone else’s.
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Dylan!” she gasps. “Really? You slept with our virginal neighbor who thinks you’re a God among men?”
“She does not think that,” I argue. And then I realize I contradicted the wrong thing. “Just stop, okay? Don’t pry. I have to go home for the weekend and fix this.”
Daphne laughs. “What would Leah say?”
“Nothing good,” I admit. “And you’re not going to tell her.”
“I think we can help each other,” Daphne says. “I’m coming to visit. But I have no money, so I can’t take you and your roommates out to dinner as payment.”
“You could cook, though,” I point out.
“I suppose. But I was going to offer to help you make goat’s milk caramels.”
“Where? We need a state-certified kitchen.”
“Better get on that, then,” Daphne says. “I’m coming Friday night. My meeting is on Saturday.”
“Your meeting,” I repeat slowly.
“See you soon,” my sister says. Then she hangs up.
I let out a loud groan. “My family are the pushiest assholes in the world.”
“Your family are the nicest people alive,” Rickie says without looking up from his book.
“Does this mean you’re playing the gig Friday night?” Keith asks. “I’ll put up with Daphne if it means I can get paid.”
“Maybe,” I