The Sister Code (D.O.R.K #2)

by Haley Allison

  I nod, smile, and thank my lucky stars my brain is quick on its feet.

  After taking off the jacket, Logan pounds the drumsticks together four times to time the beat and starts into his set. Dad, Cass, and I exchange looks of pleasant surprise as Logan plays his rendition of the drumbeat from “Hot for Teacher.” I can hear myself playing the guitar riffs and Dalton howling out the lyrics along with him in my head. He fits us, and I think his level of skill might even challenge us and propel us forward.

  He’s not just good, he’s phenomenal. Freeing up his arm movement really did make a difference. I don’t mind having a drummer that makes my heart race, either. He’s wild, unrestrained, and so damn hot I just can’t…

  Shit, Mads. Pull yourself together. He has a girlfriend.

  Dalton taps me on the shoulder. I lean over so he can whisper in my ear.

  “What do you think?”

  I grin and nod. Dalton pulls in a victory fist pump.

  At the end, we all stand and run over to the drum kit to voice our enthusiasm. Logan’s bronzed cheeks redden slightly at the attention. Dad asks him to step outside for just a few minutes while we talk it over. He looks pleased to even be given consideration.

  The four of us sit down on the couches together again. Dad rubs the back of his neck and chuckles.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but that boy might even have Squillo beat. Where have you been hidin’ him, Dalton?”

  Dalton’s low-pitched laughter booms through the studio. “Sorry, Mike. I probably should have had him go first.”

  “I thought he sounded incredible,” Cass adds from her place beside Dad. “My only concern is he said he has a girlfriend in New York. Is he really going to want to move away from her?”

  “Claire and Logan are very serious. She’s trying to start a modeling career, which could be done here. As far as I know, she’s very supportive of Logan’s music dreams and Logan himself. I think she’d probably follow him anywhere.”

  I’m still feeling sick to my stomach whenever the topic of Logan’s girlfriend comes up. I’ve barely even said ten words to the dude. I really must be desperate for a distraction from Gio.

  “Well, as long as he’s willin’ to move here and give it his all, I think we have a winner. The fact that he’s your cousin puts me even more at ease,” Dad says.

  Cass notices my thoughtful silence. “Mads, what do you think?”

  I shake off my burning disappointment and smile my approval. “I thought he was awesome. Anyone who can pull off “Hot for Teacher” or almost get signed with a metal band is good enough for me.” Everybody nods and mutters their agreement.

  “Well…can I tell him he’s in?” Dalton looks at me, begging me with his eyes.

  I grin, enjoying my position of power. “Totally.”

  Dalton whoops in my ear and squeezes me within an inch of my life. I laugh and hug him back. He lets go of me and runs out of the studio to congratulate his cousin. Dad, Cass, and I follow closely behind.

  When we meet them in the hallway, Logan’s sea-green eyes are wide open with shock. “I’m…I’m in? Already?”

  “Yes.” I steel myself and stretch out my hand to shake his. “Welcome to the band, Logan Caldwell.”

  Logan bypasses my hand and engulfs me in the same crushing hug his cousin just did. I hug him back, trying not to think about his sculpted, muscular back or the way his body fits me like a glove.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Logan says into my ear with a catch in his voice. “I swear you won’t regret this.”

  I squeeze his core. “I’m sure I won’t.”

  Logan releases me and takes a deep breath to calm himself. He drags his hands down his cheeks. “Oh my God…I can’t believe this. Thank you all so much. I’ve got some stuff to figure out, but I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

  “Take all the time you need, son.” Dad grips his shoulder. “You wanna join us for dinner on me?”

  “Hell yeah!” Logan beams with excitement as the five of us turn to walk down the narrow hallway.

  ***

  Dad invites Carl a.k.a. Kite and James a.k.a. Squillo, and all seven of us gather at an Irish pub thirty minutes later. Logan freaks out like a fanboy when he gets to shake James’s hand. The two of them talk for a while before he settles into a booth with Dalton and me. W3 takes the table across the aisle from us so the three of us can get to know each other better.

  Logan opens his drink menu to the beer section and peruses it intently. “Looks like they’ve got some good local ales here. I might try one of those.”

  “Try whatever you want, it’s all on my dad,” I inform him.

  Logan chuckles and pinches his forehead between his thumb and fingers. “God, I’m drinking off the Grim Weeper’s tab. I’m in his daughter’s band. I really must be dreaming.”

  I smirk and reach across the table to pinch his tight forearm. He flinches and jerks it back, but he’s holding back a smile.

  “Shit! What was that for?”

  I shrug. “Somebody had to prove you weren’t dreaming.”

  Logan breaks into a smile and chuckles. “You are deadly strong.”

  “My fingers are. It comes with being a guitarist.”

  Dalton stands from his place beside Logan in the booth. “Be right back, guys.” He heads back toward the bathroom.

  Logan leans across the table to speak quietly to me. “Hey, by the way, thanks for what you said at the audition. I meant to take my jacket off when I sat down. I just forgot because I was so nervous.”

  I smile at the sweet vulnerability in his eyes. He is so cute, it’s dangerous. When he smiles, it lights up his face and ten feet in every direction around him.

  “It was nothing, but what were you doing wearing a black jacket in Los Angeles in the summer, anyway?”

  “Honestly? I was trying to look like a badass,” Logan admits with a chuckle. I laugh along with him. “I’m such an idiot, but you saved me. I owe you big time.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I grin at him as he leans back in his seat. The pretty blonde waitress brings his beer back and Logan thanks her politely without lingering on her.

  “I also remember you,” I tell him pointedly.

  He responds with a sheepish grin, gnawing on the inside of his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  “Of course I do.” I lean toward him and whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you were Dalton’s cousin?”

  He shrugs. “We didn’t really have time to chat. Your sister was screeching at you to get inside the club, remember? I was about to introduce myself when she called out to you.”

  “Oh yeah…” I grin at him. “Fate is funny, huh?”

  He beams back at me. “Tell me about it.”

  I relax into the booth and chat him up. “So I know you’re Logan Caldwell, you’re twenty-one, you like Amber ale, and you can tear up a drum kit. What else should I know about you?”

  Logan reaches up to scratch the tempting hint of stubble on his chin and his eyes roll up toward the ceiling. “Let’s see…I’m a bartender, which you already know…I love to cook, I have a mother who loves me a little too much, I’m obsessed with World of Warcraft—”

  “You play WoW?” My excitement springs to an unmanageable level. I haven’t met a whole lot of people in person yet who share my love for the game.

  Logan’s dark eyebrows pull up, making creases in his forehead. “You know the acronym?”

  “I know the game. Inside out, backward, and forward. I bet you couldn’t beat me in a duel.”

  He grins, leans back, and folds his arms over his chest. “That’s a bet you’re sure to lose.”

  “Oh really? What server are you on?”

  “Silvermoon.”

  My heart skips a beat. “Me too. Alliance or Horde?”

  He scoffs. “You insult me. For the Horde, obviously.”

  “Thank God. I’ll take you on any time, any place. Just give me your BattleTag.”


  “Will do.”

  I hand Logan my phone and he types his BattleTag into my Notes app. Just at that moment, Dalton returns to the table and plunks down next to Logan.

  “Good, exchange numbers,” Dalton says. “I hope you two are ready to get serious about finding a bass player.”

  “Totally. Right after I kick his ass in mortal combat.” I flash Logan a wicked grin.

  Dalton cocks an eyebrow and looks between us. “Did I miss something here?”

  With a sidelong glance, Logan explains, “It’s a gamer thing, dude. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Dalton, you don’t play games?”

  Pain flickers in Dalton’s eyes for a split second. “I don’t really have time anymore.”

  Logan and I exchange a glance and I immediately know we both feel like jerks. With the passing of his mom, Dalton became the provider for his sister and his good-for-nothing uncle. Working hard to support them has taken away all his free time for anything except this band. Logan nudges him with his elbow and Dalton’s head snaps in his direction.

  “Sorry, man,” Logan mumbles.

  Dalton shrugs and picks up a menu. For the rest of the night, Logan and I make sure to talk about nothing but the band.

  Chapter 11

  August 29, 2015

  And Then There Were Three

  Why, oh why does Logan Caldwell have to be taken?

  It’s crazy. My mystery guy from New York was Dalton’s cousin and also happened to be a fantastic drummer. He’s now the third member of our band. The universe delivered him up to me on a silver platter…

  And lo and behold, he’s got a girlfriend. A serious one.

  I’m starting to think I’m cursed in the love department. First I go seventeen years without anyone knowing I existed at all. Then I get together with a guy my sister went out with first and had to break up with him. Now the one guy I was excited to see again is taken.

  Really?

  It’s probably for the best that there’s a roadblock between me and him for the sake of the band, but I dunno…it just would have been nice to have someone to dream about besides Gio for once.

  The good news, and the thing I’m choosing to focus on right now, is that I’m one step closer to my dream. I know with Logan in the band our sound will start to emerge. A good drummer is a key ingredient in any successful rock group. He and I will need to work closely together, getting in sync with one another and feeding off each other’s enthusiasm. We have a strong vibe going on already, and even though I’ve been relegated to the friend zone, I think things are finally looking up. I can be happy about this. I know I can.

  Well, as is typical, as soon as I try to be happy about something, the universe sends me a buzzkill. Raven messaged me just now that we have another interview here in L.A. to attend. I can hardly contain my joy.

  Ttyl,

  Mads

  ***

  Me: Ugh, seriously? I thought we were done.

  Raven: Yes, seriously. Thanks to you. They want to know how our twin bond is doing after the incident in London. They also want to talk to you about your “attitude.”

  Me: Fantastic. Can I wear a shirt that says, “Bitches don’t get comments”?

  Raven: If you do, I’ll wear a shirt that says, “I’m with stupid.”

  I snicker out loud. That’s the first time she’s ever made me laugh.

  Me: Duly noted. I suppose if I’m forced.

  Raven: You are.

  I lock my phone, sigh, and stretch out on my bed. The very last thing I want to do is face the media again right now. Maybe I can get “sick” the day of and have an excuse to get out of it.

  I laugh to myself. I’m not even in school yet, and I’m already playing hooky.

  ***

  Here I am again, sitting on a pristine leather couch with Raven’s arm glued around me. This time, I can’t even fake excitement. After the London incident, I royally pissed off the media, and now I have no assurance they’re going to make even the slightest move to spare me. When I entered the Spill! Online Headquarters here in L.A., I walked into a lions’ den. They can’t wait to rip me apart from head to toe and feast on me.

  The brown-haired hipster dude interviewing us crosses his legs in his seat and adjusts his big black glasses. His lips grow into a manufactured smile that reminds me of the Grinch. We exchange polite greetings and then the interrogation begins.

  “The last time Spill! saw you two, you were adjusting extremely well to your new lives. Can you tell us a little bit about how your relationship has changed since then?”

  Real answer? None. It hasn’t changed one single bit in its inherent fakeness or awkwardness.

  Raven’s answer:

  “We’ve become closer than ever through the month’s events.” Her voice is so sweet and smooth, it’s sickening. She hugs me so closely I get a burst of her rosy perfume and nearly gag. “Madison knows she has my full support no matter what.”

  “That’s good to hear. Tell us, Madison, what happened that night in London?”

  My face feels wooden. I try to crack a smile, but I can’t, so instead I keep up the hardened image.

  “I was dumb and got drunk. That’s really all there was to it.”

  “What you heard that night wasn’t her true voice,” Raven adds. “Michael and Madison Daley both have the same problem when they’re drunk: Their natural talent goes to sleep. I promise you, she actually sings quite beautifully.”

  The interviewer’s face lights up. Finally, something he can work with.

  “So really you are a musician, then?” He leans forward in his seat with hungry eagerness.

  Talking about music always melts me like butter in the July sun. I soften in spite of myself. “Yeah, I am. My friend and I are starting a band together.”

  “Really? Soon?”

  “Yes. We have three members and we’re holding auditions for the fourth soon.”

  “Who are you missing?”

  “Just a bassist.”

  “That must be very exciting.” His tone almost sounds genuine now.

  I finally loosen up enough to smile. “It is. I can’t wait to get things up and running.”

  “You seem like a girl who can get things done. I can tell you definitely have a strong personality.”

  I laugh out loud. That was his nice way of saying I’m a brat who flips off the paparazzi. “I definitely do.”

  “Would you say you and your sister both have a rebellious streak?”

  Oh man…another loaded question. I hurt my brain thinking up a quick way to dodge it. “Only in the best way.”

  “Do you think your wildness has anything to do with the dream of being a rock star?”

  I bristle and return to my previous icy self. I’m really getting tired of that word. I told the world the truth about me my first time on television, and now I guess it’s time to remind them of it. I lean forward in my seat and demand the interviewer’s deep brown gaze with my eyes.

  “For the record, I am not wild. I’m more awkward and clueless than wild, but every mistake I make teaches me something. I’m just trying my best to survive here. Please stop calling me the ‘wild twin.’ I’m kind of over that label.”

  My bold affront causes the interviewer to draw back in shock. He clears his throat, and I can read his thoughts in his eyes:

  That statement is definitely not going on record.

  Chapter 12

  September 1, 2015

  Curse You Spill! Online

  Another interview with Spill! Online just went live. During the interview, in no uncertain terms, I told them to stop referring to me as “the wild twin.” Here’s exactly what I said to them:

  “For the record, I am not wild. I’m more awkward and clueless than wild, but every mistake I make teaches me something. I’m just trying my best to survive here. Please stop calling me the ‘wild twin.’ I’m kind of over that label.”

  Here’s the edited answer they put on the website:

&n
bsp; “I am wild, but every mistake I make teaches me something. I’m just trying my best to survive.”

  Now instead of just being the wild twin, I’m the troubled twin who has issues from being abandoned by her celebrity mother. Everybody’s saying I’m going to go off the rails as soon as I’m out of Dad’s house on my own. Apparently I’m a delinquent, a hopeless cause just because of what Jess and the rest of the world did to me. No one cares what I really have to say. Websites and TV determine what they think about me.

  I’ve given up trying to control what they say about me. It’s never going to happen. Dad keeps telling me he avoids the media like the plague and thinks I should too, and I’m starting to wish I had listened to him. Now that Raven owns me, I can’t follow that advice. Our entire deal was for the purpose of hyping ourselves up to the media.

  I’ve already pissed her off enough. Maybe I should just lie low for a while.

  Ttyl,

  Mads

  ***

  My text alert goes off five minutes after I submit my blog post. I groan as I turn over to answer it.

  “What do you want now, you—”

  The words die on my lips and are replaced with a smile. Logan Caldwell just texted me for the first time.

  Logan: Hey Madison! Just wanted to let you know I found an apartment in L.A. and Dalton is working on snagging me a bartender job. I have enough in savings to move and live there for a couple months so I’m going to go ahead and get started on that. Can’t wait to get there and start holding auditions for our final band mate. Thank you once again for this mind-blowing opportunity.

  I recline on my pillows with one knee bent up and a stupid grin on my face. Never did I expect him to get things in order so fast. He must be even more excited than I am.

  Me: Hey Logan! Wow, that’s awesome that you’ll be here so soon! Welcome to the band. We’re really stoked to have you.