Player(22)

But I wasn’t quick enough. He snagged me around the neck and flexed his Herculean arm, awkwardly bringing me into his ribs.

“Now, say you’re sorry, diablilla.”

“Ugh, Franco! It’s not my fault your ass is so big.”

He squeezed, cutting off my air. I twisted my fingers into his kidney, and my six-foot, two-fifty big brother squealed like a piglet and relaxed his grip enough that I could slip out of his hands.

Franco scowled, betrayed. “You’re lucky you’re cute, conejita.” Bunny, their nickname for me since always.

“You’re lucky you’re muscly, toro.”

“Mess with the bull, get the horns, chiquilla.” He cracked his knuckles to illustrate, but he smiled.

I made my way around to Mama, kissing her cheek, then Abuelita’s. “Hi. God, it smells good in here. You’re magic, Abuela.”

She laughed, abandoning her wooden spoon in the pan to wrap me up in a hug that was surprisingly fierce for such a tiny woman. She leaned back and cupped my face. “Valentina, mi amor, you are too skinny. We will feed you,” she said to herself, nodding as she turned back to her task. “Mama’s got patatas bravas and ablóndigas. Promise Abuelita you will eat, cari?o.”

I chuckled. “I promise,” I said before heading to the small table where everyone else sat.

“Heya, babe,” Dad said, angling his cheek in my direction. “Knock me a little one right here.”

I gave him a kiss and peeked at his cards, which were abysmal. “Wow, Dad. Are you supposed to have them all in a run like that?”

Dante and Max groaned and threw their cards on the table.

“Fold,” Dante said with a huff.

I laughed. “How’s it going, guys?”

“Could be better since I just lost twenty bucks to Dad.” Max folded his arms.

“Thanks, pumpkin,” Dad said in my direction, reaching for the cash in the pot. “What’s new?”

“Not much,” I answered, setting down my trumpet bag as I took a seat at the bay window bench. “Working a lot and—oh! I started going to this swing club, Sway.” I felt myself light up. “It’s so much fun, swing-dancing and jazz and gah. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in forever. My legs haven’t worked this hard since marching band. I think my pants are even a little loose.”

“Too skinny,” Abuelita called from the kitchen.

Mama laughed and shook her head.

“Who are you going with?” Dante asked, his expression dark.

Four brothers, all utter beasts—an ox, a bear, a bull, and a puma. I had a brother in every grade above me, and Franco was in mine—our birthdays were ten months apart. Irish quints we were, and for an entire year, my poor high school had housed all five of us at once.

As such, no guy would come near me. It had been as much of a blessing as it was a curse, though I’d generally found myself more relieved than offended.

Attention from the opposite sex hadn’t interested me. Not then at least.

“Not that it’s any of your business, nosy, but I’m going with Katherine and Amelia.”

“All right, then who are you dancing with?”

My cheeks warmed. “There’s a whole club full of guys to dance with.”

Max joined in, mirroring Dante. Separately, they were brutes. Together, they were a hurricane. “And who’s dancing with you?”

I made a face. “I have some friends from the pit who go. They play in the jazz band. It’s not a big deal. Can’t you just be excited I have a new hobby I love?”

“You take your mace with you, right?” Max asked.

“Always.”

“What about the knuckle keychain I got you?” Dante pressed.

“This one?” I slipped my hand into my bag and brought it out with the black rings on my middle fingers, triangular cat ears out and thirsty for blood. “Come here. I’ve never gotten to try them out.”

I lunged for him, and he laughed, shifting out of the way to pull me into a choke hold, just like I’d escaped from Franco.

“Ugh, I hate you guys.”

“Liar,” he said, digging his knuckles into my scalp.

I wriggled, pressing the cat ears into the soft skin under his arm. He let me go with a hiss.

“Oh, good. They do work.”

He rubbed his arm. “Very funny, conejita.”

“You asked.” I deposited my keys back in my bag and set it on the bench.

“How’s it going on Wicked?” Dad asked.

Dante shook his head, smiling proudly. “I can’t believe you landed that spot. I mean, I can believe it—you’re too good not to get a regular spot—but damn if that wasn’t unexpected.”

I beamed. “Trust me, I’m more surprised than anyone. Thank God Julien got the flu and was out for a week. If I hadn’t been subbing for him—”

“Val, they canned him after a day and gave you his job. You’ve been working on the Wicked music for years in the hopes of getting a spot. I bet you can play it in your sleep.”

“Better than reciting limericks when I’m in the throes of REM,” I teased.

Dante’s brows flattened. “Seriously, I’ve been trying to get on that crew for what feels like forever.”