Top Dog

“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.”

“Is the band meeting you there

?”

“No, just me and my guitar this morning. Come on, we’re taking my truck.”

I walked over to my blacked-out truck, a present to myself after my second hit single.

I pulled open my truck door and tossed my guitar in, but I noticed Delia wasn’t getting in. She was standing against her truck, her arms crossed as she studied me closely. I didn’t have time for this shit. We had to get going.

“You coming? Or is this you quitting?” I asked.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Just answer me one question.”

She walked over to me, her hips swaying as her tits jostled with her movements.

“Have you been drinking already this morning?” Delia asked.

Her eyes were holding mine as her hands rested on her hips. She was eyeing me up and down. Sizing me the fuck up at seven in the damn morning. I sighed as I closed my eyes, knowing it did me no good to lie to this woman.

I nodded, hearing her let out a deep sigh.

“I’m driving,” Delia said.