Chapter 182: Luke

I was in the middle of a bitch beater when the shrill sound of my cell phone weaseled through the pounding of drums. I should have turned it down or off. I ignored it and continued. The wood in my hands rolled through my fingers. I flipped with my left playing backstick. Sweat rolled from my hairline down my face and dripped down my torso. This wasn't music-it was rage and drums were the only way, at the moment, that I could process the burn and clear it from my system.

The phone stopped its noise for a few moments then started ringing again.

Fuck.

I rotated on my stool and picked up my cell after I saw the name on the caller ID.

"You owe me," said the familiar voice.

A burst of laughter escaped. "A million times over. So what's new, Damian?"

***

An hour later, I was on the road with damp, just-washed hair, my toy bag in the trunk, and my heart thumping a heavier beat than my drum kit had earlier. Damian promised he would persuade Machala to accept a strange man coming to her ho