Tone Deaf(31)

On the other couch, Arrow cracks a small smile. But it’s strained, and as he stares at me, I avoid his harsh gaze. He nods to Killer. “Don’t listen to him. His real name is Kilimanjaro.”

I raise my eyebrows at Killer. “Wow. That’s almost worse.”

He sighs and holds his hands up, like he’s surrendering to the terrible naming skills of his parents. “Totally not my fault I was adopted by hippies.” He points to his boyfriend. “Arrow started calling me Kilim when we were like sixteen.”

“Which Jace quickly turned into Kill ’Em, and then to Killer,” Arrow explains.

“And it stuck,” Killer says.

It’s kind of cute how they keep finishing each other’s sentences. They sound like an old married couple, which I guess they pretty much are. Well, not technically married, and definitely not old. But according to Avery, Killer and Arrow have been boyfriends since the very start of their band.

Damn, I wish I could talk to Avery. It hasn’t even been a day, and I already miss her excited babbling about Tone Deaf, something I never thought I’d want to hear. I think she was already asleep when I sent that message last night, otherwise she would have come over and demanded to speak to me. But I’m sure she got the message this morning, and I cringe as I think of how worried she must be.

“Your band seems to have a thing for unique names,” I say, continuing the conversation to distract myself from thinking about Avery. “Why do you guys call yourself Tone Deaf?”

Killer smirks. “We used to practice in Jace’s garage, and his neighbor was this grouchy lady who hated our music. So one day she comes over and tells Jace that having a deaf father is no excuse for having zero musical talent. He tried arguing back, but she just kept cutting him off and saying, ‘Well you might not be deaf, but your band is tone deaf!’ We were looking for a name at the time, and yeah, that’s how we became Tone Deaf. ”

Interesting—Jace has a parent who’s deaf, which explains why he knows ASL. I try to cover my surprise by nodding to Arrow. “What about your name? Is Arrow short for something?”

The curve of Arrow’s smile grows sharper. “Yeah. It’s short for Poor Fool With White Trash Parents.”

“Oh,” I mumble.

I must look as uncomfortable as I feel, because Killer gently places a reassuring hand on my arm. I deftly remove myself from his touch, doing my best not to grimace.

“You were sleeping for a long time,” Killer says, his smile fading just a little. “Do you want some food or something? Maybe something to drink?”

“I’ll, um, get something myself. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” He nods toward the kitchen and hops up from the couch. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

I follow him into the small kitchen, where he proceeds to point out the refrigerator and cupboards full of health food. Whole-grain cereal, sunflower seeds, protein drinks, and fruit seem to be Jace’s staples. Whatever happened to young guys living off junk food?

Killer is chatting excitedly, and I quickly lose track of his words. He doesn’t seem to understand the concept of lip-reading. Namely, that it involves me looking at his lips, and not watching him twirl around the kitchen as he fetches me a cup of some natural energy drink that looks like pee. Apparently, he’s not going to let me get a drink for myself, which is kind of annoying and kind of sweet.

I sit at the counter, which has two little stools pulled up to it. Killer plunks the drink beside me and sits on the other stool, once again way too close. But he’s still smiling, not at all put off by the fact that I haven’t replied to a word he’s said in like two minutes.

“Here,” he says, shoving the drink toward me. “It’s lemon-lime. No caffeine, so it’s good for dehydration.”

I take a long gulp of it and find out a moment too late that it’s carbonated. I start coughing the moment I pull the cup away, but can’t stop myself from taking another gulp. After I’ve chugged half the glass, I realize that Killer is staring at me, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He laughs a little and says, “So much for Jace taking care of you, hmm? Eight hours in, and you’re already dying of thirst and pale as a ghost.”

I blush as I look down at my arm, finding he’s right. My skin is still totally white. It’s going to take more than a few sips of energy drink to make up for my dehydration and lack of food.

“Sooo.” He props his head up in his palm, leaning his elbow against the counter. “How’s your road trip been so far?”

“Um, good?”

“You don’t sound very sure of that.”

I bite my lip as I struggle to think of a way to deflect this conversation, but Killer just shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he says. “Jace can be a jerk, but he’s not the type to back out of promises. If he says he’ll help you stay safe, he means it.”

His smile is soft and a little pitying, which probably means Jace told him more about my situation than I would have liked. Although I imagine it couldn’t be helped. Jace told me he doesn’t keep lies from his bandmates, and I doubt they would have been okay with me being here with zero explanation.

“Thanks,” I murmur hesitantly.