“Awesome. I’m gonna go check in with my uncle real quick,” Craig said, already heading towards the house. “If you got time, help Paul with my shit.”


    “That’s code for ‘I’m gonna stay inside until I know my shit is set up,''” Daniel sighed. “He does this shit all the time.”


    “We could just leave it all to his brother,” Iughed.


    “Damn, new guy,” Daniel grinned. “Pushing the boundaries already. I think we’re gonna get along fine.”


    Amanda began helping Paul with his drums, but Daniel switched with her when he noticed Paul was staring at Amanda when she was walking away. I was about ready to chat with him myself–I didn’t care If Craig was her boyfriend–but Daniel must have noticed and stepped in.N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    “Hey, Manda,” Daniel called out. “I’ll unload the gear if you can set up the rig for Nick. I’m not familiar with your gear.”


    “No problem,” Amanda said, giving Daniel a friendly smile.


    A minuteter, I spotted Daniel smacking Paul over the back of the head while Amanda wasn’t looking. The younger man red at Daniel but didn’t do or say anything. What could he do? Daniel’s arms were thicker than his legs, and the big-bearded man could have crushed his head in one hand.


    True to Daniel’s prediction, all of Craig’s equipment was set up before the Fabio look-alike reappeared with a man that I assumed was his uncle. He was of simr build to Craig–only less muscled–with long, mostly grey hair that thinned badly on top and a silly-looking soul patch. He wore one of his nephews’ band t-shirts and a pair of too-tight jeans that looked to have never been washed before.


    “Uncle Rob, this is our new guitarist, Nick,” Craig said, introducing me to his uncle.


    “Look at the arms on this one,” Rob remarked, pping me on the bicep. “Looks like he spends more time looking at himself in the mirror than you do, Craig.”


    Paul let out a peal ofughter that felt forced, but no one found it amusing. Rob didn’t seem to notice as heughed at his own joke, and he only stopped to let his eyes roam over Amanda as she took a seat on a stool just inside the garage door. Was this entire family full of degenerate assholes?


    “He’s also Amanda’s brother,” Daniel said.


    Rob’s eyes snapped away from Amanda and back to me quickly, but he covered any signs of embarrassment or fear quickly behind a cocky grin.


    “Didn’t know that taco-hut had any brothers,” Rob smirked.


    I clenched my fist so tight a few of my knuckles popped loud enough for even Craig to hear it because he quickly and calmly stepped between his uncle and me, cing a hand on Rob’s shoulder.


    “We gotta practice, Uncle Rob. I’lle and chat to you about the album recording after we’re done,” Craig said, cool as a cucumber.


    Rob looked between the assembled people as if realising he hadpany for the first time, then shrugged and headed back inside. There was a tense moment of silence as if everyone held their breath until the door to the house banged shut.


    “Sorry about him,” Craig said, turning to me. “He doesn’t really have a filter.”


    “It’s fine,” I said, rxing my hand and taking a deep breath. “Not a big deal.”


    But it was a big deal. Craig was already high on my shit-list because of the way he treated Amanda, and his brother’s leering and sleazy looks pushed him right up there too, but their uncle just took the top spot with his apparentck of giving a shit about anyone’s feelings. If I ended up sticking with this band, I’d have to make sure none of the girls came to a rehearsal for as long as we were practicing here. I was even going to make Amanda promise me she wouldn’te.


    “Let’s y some metal,” Craig said before pulling down the garage door.


    Unlike at home, this garage had no attempts at soundproofing whatsoever. A pile of boxes in one corner and shelves of old, rusted tools along one wall, next to a rotting wooden table covered by an undistinguishable mound of metal, cloth, and stic. There was no evidence of care and thought here like there was back home. Emily treated the garage like her own little safe haven where the world could vanish, and there was only the music. Meanwhile, we were about to rehearse in a space that could have been rented out for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie.


    The first song was a little messy all around as the band adjusted levels. There was no PA system or sound guy to adjust levels, so it was up to each individual to make sure they were loud enough not just for themselves but also for the others. Well, that would have been the case if Craig hadn’t just turned his Marshallbo amp up to ten immediately. The speaker crackled softly under strain, and I had to focus harder to hear Daniel’s bass over the obnoxiously crunchy tone he favoured.


    “Fuck yeah,” Craig said once the song finished. “Sounding tight.”


    We did not sound tight at all. Paul was a decent drummer with evident experience under his belt, but hecked consistency as he favoured speed over keeping each hit sounding hard and solid. The result made his ying sound out of time with the other jumble of sound bouncing around the horrible rehearsal space.


    Craig’s guitar parts weren’t challenging at all. We essentially yed the same thing, with my parts asionally changing for a short lead or the very asional solo–which I had re-written. Even with the simple guitarist, Craig seemed to focus more on his vocals to the point where he should just put the guitar down altogether. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, so I had to think of a way to fix these issues without sounding like I wasing in and bossing them around. Especially the brothers.


    “Craig, you need to turn down, or you’ll blow your amp,” Daniel said before I could speak up. “That’s how you lost thest one.”


    “Sorry, man. I just get carried away,” Craig grinned, then lowered the volume on his amp a touch. It wasn’t much, but maybe it would be enough for now.


    “And Paul, stop speeding up so much,” Danielined to the drummer.


    “Why don’t you speed up?” Paul shot back. “Not my fault you’re too slow.”


    “Your shitty rhythm is proof enough that you can’t y that fast either,” Danielughed.


    Craig let out augh at his brother too, but Paul just scowled at the both of them before directing it to me and grinning.


    “I guess I can y slower for the new guy,” he said.


    “I think you need to y slower for yourself rather than anyone else,” I chuckled, causing Craig and Daniel tough as Paul scowled again. “Now, let’s quit fucking around and y some metal.”


    We were rehearsing the songs in the order the others had nned to y them at the gig in three weeks, which meant the first three were rather dull and uneventful–in my opinion–while leaving thest two for their best. With each song we yed, we were tighter and tighter as a band, so much that I was genuinely enjoying ying this thrashy, mediocre ck metal. Then the final song started, and I couldn’t wait to show off the changes I had made.