When Devils Sing(78)

“What’s your uncle’s name?” Isaiah asked, preparing to write the name on the board.

“Grant,” Reid said. “CEO of Blue Mountain Records.”

“Oh yeah.” Isaiah scribbled down Grant’s name, considering his place among the rest of the clues on the board. “He’s the one who lives in Nashville, right?”

“Yeah, he made it out of this place,” Reid said, almost wistfully. Then his eyebrows knitted together. “So why would he be involved with some closed-down bar in Carrion? He already owns the Tavern.”

Isaiah considered for a moment. “Maybe he wanted a hand in both? Saw Blind Bucks as competition to the Tavern?”

“That doesn’t seem like Grant. He’s not calculating like my father. I mean…” Reid shook his head. “I don’t know, man. It’s hard to imagine him involved with any of this.” He gestured to the whiteboard before them.

Isaiah was reminded of his father and the political ladder he continued to climb within Lake Clearwater, as well as beyond the gates. That familiar question returned to him: Why now?

He then asked, “Have you ever considered we don’t know our families as well as we once thought?”





CHAPTER 31NEERA




53 HOURS


That afternoon, Neera waited for her mom to arrive at the Tavern. She’d left the Colonial before dawn, with the Nissan packed as if she was going somewhere for only a weekend. Neera believed half a day was plenty of time for Kiran to cool down. A well-timed apology would be enough to return to her mom’s good graces.

Except, when Kiran arrived for her shift, she didn’t so much as look Neera in the eye. In fact, she walked right past her, pretending she wasn’t there at all.

“You can’t be serious,” Neera called after Kiran’s retreating form. “Mom, please.”

But Kiran didn’t relent as she let the Tavern’s door slam in Neera’s face.

The world fell quiet as a sudden downpour surrounded Neera. It’s over, she thought as she stood alone in the rain. It’s all over. She didn’t give herself a moment to think things through before she packed up her guitar and began walking. She needed to go somewhere and gather her thoughts. Regroup.

Past the parking lot and the Tavern, down by the lakeshore, was an empty gazebo where she sometimes sat when waiting for her mom to get off work. Neera trudged toward it in the pouring rain, the soles of her Birkenstocks turning slimy from the rainwater. The storm had grown so bad so quickly she could barely see past a few feet in front of her. Thunder rumbled overhead. She slipped and struggled down the path, every inch of her soaked through by the time she reached the gazebo’s shelter.

Neera collapsed onto the swinging bench, feeling weighed down by her sodden clothes and guitar. She opened the Yamaha’s case, grateful to find it dry within. Resting it gently beside her, she pulled her wet phone from her pocket. She’d purposely not told Isaiah about what happened between her and her family after the Cicada’s Song, but she no longer knew what to do or where to go.

The screen barely responded to her touch as she tried to find Isaiah’s number in her contacts.

The call immediately went to voicemail. With a sigh, she waited for the beep at the end. “Hey, Isaiah,” she began loudly, struggling to speak over the roar of the rain. “My mom and I … we got into a really bad fight. Could you call me back when you can, please? Thanks.”

Embarrassment washed over Neera as soon as she ended the call. How exactly was Isaiah supposed to help her? Let her crash at his grandparents’ farm until the festival was over? There was something so shameful about homelessness that made her feel like a helpless child again. More than once, she and her mom had been kicked out by a bad boyfriend or a scummy landlord. They’d spent more nights in the Nissan than she cared to remember. But at least they’d always been together—Kiran and Neera against the world.

This, she thought, is different. There is no us anymore. Neera was finally on her own.

There was a cruel irony to being kicked out of the Colonial when the very thing she was trying to do was save it. To save her whole family from the consequences of their failed American dream. Whether her mom could see past her hurt or not, Neera had to be the bigger person.

She only had two days to figure out how to save them all.

Pulling her legs to her chest, she laid her head on the worn leather guitar case and closed her eyes. For a long time, she lay there on the swinging bench, repeating her plan in her head.

Isaiah would call her back. He’d offer her a place to stay. She’d practice her guitar for hours for the next two days until the Fourth. She’d impress Grant Langley. He’d sign her to his label, and she’d use the money to pay off her family’s debt. She’d repair the relationship with her mom. They’d all leave Carrion behind. In a couple weeks’ time, everything would be okay. What was a little more struggle for a lifetime of peace?

I can do this, she thought. Over and over and over. I can do this.

“Hey, kid,” a man’s voice called from out of sight, startling Neera upright. She found Grant Langley standing at the edge of the gazebo, soaked from head to toe in athleisure. He wiped his clean-shaven face with his hand, studying the sight of her on the swing. “What’re you doing out here in the storm?”