Bad Seed

“I don’t do those.”

“It’s an open-air thing, and you do it now.”

“I’m goin’ the fuck back to bed.”

“It’s for a good charity,” he said.

“Then just write them a check,” I said.

“It’s an acoustic set. Real mellow stuff.”

“I don’t do mellow.”

“Will you do it for Autism Speaks?”

Raking my hand across my face, I slung my legs over the edge of the bed. I had a soft spot for that charity, for the awareness they put out and the educational materials they had for people. My sister was the light of my life, but I’d watched my parents struggle most of their final years trying to understand how my sister worked. Elsie could operate in public for the most part. She held down her own part-time job and everything. But she had her moments, and they were rough.

Nonetheless, that girl was everything to me. And anything I could do for people who spread awareness about autism, I was more than willing to do.

“Why the fuck didn’t you lead off with that, Hank?”

“Should I have to?” he asked.

“When you’re calling at five in the morning, yes.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Hank said.

“There better not be a next time. When’s the concert?”

“It’s a morning thing. You go on stage at eight fifteen. I can’t get your P.A. on the phone. Fill her in when she gets to you if she hasn’t already quit yet. I’m sending the address to your phone and hers.”

Sighing, I hung up the phone, waiting for the message to come through.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I showered, shaved, and put on the nicest boots and bucket hat I owned. If I was going to make an appearance at something like this, then I wanted to make it a good one. The understanding I had of my sister and her condition was a direct result of charities like Autism Speaks.

I walked downstairs and headed for the door just as I heard the sound.

Delia’s truck drove up the driveway, and I shook my head. Fuck, the woman was persistent. I had thrown her one of the tougher days on the farm, so she’d go running to the hills and quit like I wanted her to. But it didn’t work. She was driving up my driveway in that rust bucket she owned, ready for another day’s work.

Even after mucking out horse stalls.

Sleeping had been hard last night. Seeing her sweat drenched face chugging that water as it dripped down her neck, falling onto those sweat-soaked tits with nipples that were poking against her bra. Her white shirt clung to her as she tipped that bottle back, chugging it without taking even one breath. It had set my groin pumping for her. That's the last thing I needed too.

And that angry look in her eye. Shit. That was the icing on the cake. It was a good thing she didn’t have any romantic interest in me. Otherwise, we’d be in deep shit.

Today was her lucky day. Even though she was dressed for another day on the ranch, we had to leave for my performance. I went into the kitchen and drew out my flask, tipping it back and draining it so I could fill it up again. I didn’t have enough time for coffee, but this would warm me up just fine.

I screwed the cap on tight, took another swig from the bottle, and headed for my truck.

“We’re leaving,” I said, as I stepped back inside and grabbed my guitar.

“What? Where are we headed?” Delia asked as she rushed up to me.

“Pick up your phone, and you’d know,” I said.

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she said.

“We’re heading to an impromptu concert. I’m due on stage at eight fifteen.”