Page 31 of Burn Bright

Gavin groans, “Ben. I’m telling you, shewon’tlast out here. I’m doing her a favor.”

I speak hotter under my breath. “You haven’t even given her a chance.”

He threads his arms and stares at his feet. This is where he’s supposed to say,I’ll give heronechance.It doesn’t leave his mouth.

I clench my jaw. “You want a Cobalt here on the weekends, then you’re going to hire us both. Put us on the same shift if you have to.” It’s what I want anyway.

He grinds his teeth, then assesses me as if weighing the benefit of my presence behind the bar. I can see the gears cranking in his head like he’s trying to find a loophole.

“This doesn’t work if you put her in the back,” I add swiftly. “She needs the tips, so you’ll let her bartend with me.”

Gavin expels a heavy, resigned sigh, unfolding his arms just to rub his goatee. “And I thought you were the nice one.”

“Huh?” I frown.

“You know, out of the ‘Cobalt Empire’.” He uses finger quotes. “I heard the youngest boy was supposed to be the nicest, but you’re out here trying to bargain like you’re Connor Cobalt making a business deal.”

My blood goes cold for a second. He doesn’t get it. I’m really not like my dad.I’m not.I’m just trying to be a good friend. That’s all.

“Do we have a deal then?” I ask, casually ignoring his comment.

“Yeah, deal.” He extends a hand to shake on it. After which, my bodyguard approaches the bar, and I check my phone for texts, only reading the important one.

Eliot Cobalt

Our little sister is going to guilt-trip you into moving back home. Don’t let her. Stay strong, brother.

“We’ll need to discuss security on nights Ben is working,” Novak says to the bar manager, and I slip away to let him do his thing.

Harriet’s head is face down on the booth, my baseball cap on the graffitied table, and she slowly bangs her forehead onto the worn wood.

“Whoa, Fisher.” I slide in on the other side, a heartbeat away from catching her head before she pounds it into the wood again. “Is this a new drumming method?” I tease with a smile.

She groans as she looks up at me. A red welt already forms on her forehead, and my smile vanishes when I see it. “It’s a patented method,” she says sadly. “Don’t go trying to recreate it. I’ll sue.”

“Yeah, lucky for you, I don’t have any musical talent like my brother.” She, on the other hand, is pretty fucking spectacular at drums. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually seen her play. I nod to the cell on the table. “Who was that?”

“Manhattan Valley’s admission’s office. Apparently my transfer credit for Logic & Critical Thinking doesn’t code as a humanities class, so it won’t count toward the twelve credit hours of humanities and arts we need to graduate.”

Weneed. Yeah, I need those twelve hours too since the humanities and arts is a core requirement, regardless of a major.

“And that’s a big enough issue to go all Meg White on your forehead?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You know who Meg White is?”

“Drummer forThe White Stripes.” I give her a look while I swig my water, then swallow. “What kind of music do you think I listen to?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Instrumental with emphasis on the violins.”

I laugh hard.

She chews on her lip as a smile forms. “Someone in your family has to be into Chopin and Tchaikovsky.”

I tilt my head, thinking. “That’d probably be Beckett since he has to listen to it all day, but he’ll go off on how he hates themusic to Cinderella. You don’t want to get him started on that rant.”

Harriet leans back in the booth. “You act like I’m going to meet your brothers.” She shies a little from my gaze, digging in her bookbag and unearthing a…Jolly Rancher. I watch her slowly unwind the plastic ends. Bright glittery beaded bracelets jingle on her wrists. The kind you’d string together yourself or buy with a quarter in an old vending machine. Blocked letters. Smiley faces. Hearts.

I’ve seen her wear similar chokers with beads spelling out words likebitchandwhatever.