"People change." I take a bite of my eggs and chew until they're mush. Anything to keep from having to make conversation.
"He said you were too drunk to drive." He shakes his head, that signature Mal this isn't good head shake.
That much is true. "Last night was two years since Asher…"
Mal nods. His eyes fill with sympathy. Or maybe pity. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell sometimes, especially with Mal.
"I'm sorry about that. He was a great guy. And to find him like that-"
"Thanks." I interrupt him before he can properly remind me of the gory details. This is far too much talking. I'm not good at talking.
I shove half a slice of toast in my mouth. Then I get to work on scooping avocado over my eggs, adding sriracha, stirring until it's just right.
"Thanks Mal. Tastes great." I shove another bite of food in my mouth and offer him a thumbs up.
He nods and we eat in silence. It's comfortable, familiar, like it's only been a few days and not two years.
The front door opens. There are footsteps, shoes coming off, bare feet on tile.
"Hey, Ethan. You want eggs, come sit." Mal ignores the tension. He turns back to me. "How is school? Math, right? You getting a master’s or a PhD?"
"A master’s. It's great. Can't wait to be back in—" I do the calculation in my head. "Twelve days."
Ethan does not sit. He stays standing as he fills a plate for himself.
His eyes bore into me. It's like my existence is causing him pain.
Mal continues to ignore his little brother. "You're good with numbers?"
I nod.
"And you don't want to be home?" Mal asks.
"Is it that obvious?"
Mal nods. "I have a proposition for you." He turns to Ethan, then his eyes are back on mine. "You go to NYU, right?"
I nod.
"We're leaving in two days. We stop by New York City in about eleven days. We're playing Madison Square Garden." Mal smiles.
"Congrats," I say.
"Thanks." He passes the hot sauce to Ethan, then his eyes are on me. "I'm sure Ethan agrees that we need somebody smart taking a second look at our numbers. Our old manager was a fuckup and I don't trust his math."
"Okay…" This seems like the perfect time to scarf down another piece of toast. Anything so I don't have to respond.
The look Ethan shoots Mal would kill a weaker man.
Mal doesn't blink. "Join us on tour. You can sightsee when we're stopped and take a second look at our numbers while we're on the road. I'm not sure how much this kind of thing runs, but I promise whatever we pay will be fair."
I clear my throat. "That's not really what I do. You'd be better off finding a CPA."
"I don't like bringing new people into the band." Mal's voice is impossible to read. "I'd rather it be you."
Ethan's blue eyes are fierce, determined. "Great idea."
What?