Free The Sister Code (D.O.R.K #2) by Haley Allison

insomnia…
    Ttyl,
    Mads
     
    ***
     
    Soft track lighting illuminates shiny black leather couches and a cherry wood coffee table. Dad’s open beer bottles sit atop a shiny silver tray that’s probably supposed to house champagne. Red and blue lights liven up the front of the room, where a brand new black drum kit awaits our future drummer. I stand in front of the stage and survey our new rehearsal studio, blinking back tears.
    Dad rented this room for Dalton and me. Not only is he going to keep paying for it, but he’s also going to come to our rehearsals when asked and help us get this thing together. Cass is here too, so all four of us—Dalton, Dad, Cass, and me—are going to judge these potential drummers together. Having the Grim Weeper and Black Angel with us as we pick our new band mates makes me certain we’ll find the right people. My dreams have never felt so real, so tangible. It’s like that star with my name on it is right within reach.
    Dad and Cass take one couch and Dalton and I take the other. The people auditioning are due to show up one right after another—five-minute auditions, five-minute breaks in-between—and they only get one shot at impressing us. Dad suggests we take notes on our iPads so we’ll remember who we liked and why. I open my Notes app and straighten my back against the couch when the first guy—a grungy, emo type—walks in the door and introduces himself.
     
    ***
     
    Several auditions roll by, and I’m already starting to get names, faces, and styles mixed up in my head. That’s not a good sign…if they’re not memorable to me, the audience isn’t going to be impressed, either. I don’t want to tell Dalton he picked a bunch of duds, but honestly? These people are mediocre at best. I’m starting to doubt his ear for drum beats when a gift from the heavens strolls in.
    My eyes roam up and down his stunning personage as he struts into the room with an adorable lopsided grin on his face. His black structured zip-up jacket and the chain around his neck give him a rock star vibe without being too edgy or screaming for attention. He catches my gaze and his smile falters. I can almost see the sweat beading on his forehead.
    I swear I’ve seen this guy before. Dark brown hair, green eyes, the face of a Greek god…
    Ho-ly shit.
    It’s my mystery guy from New York City.
    I watch intently as Dalton runs up to the guy and gives him a huge guy hug—the kind with all the slapping and grunting and general “trying to prove I’m a man but still show affection” stuff. Dalton turns toward us to introduce our last candidate of the day.
    “Mike, Cass, Mads—allow me to introduce my cousin, Logan Caldwell.”
    I can’t keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. His cousin? This is almost too coincidental to be real.
    “I saved him for last—partly because I wasn’t sure if he’d be coming—but mostly because I wanted you all to hear how superior he is without thinking I’m biased and brushing him off. This dude is the shit when it comes to drumming. I don’t think I’ve ever met a better drummer in person. Please look past the fact that he’s my cousin and give us your honest feedback. I think you’ll be pleased.” Dalton gives him a hearty thump on the back and walks toward the back of the room again.
    “Hi, everyone.” Logan greets us in a shaky, deep voice as Dalton returns to his seat.
    I’ve been rendered speechless, so Dad takes over the situation for me.
    “Hi, Logan. Can you tell us a little more about yourself? How did you get into music?”
    Logan straightens his posture and addresses us with renewed confidence. “Well, sir, music has been my dream since I was five years old. I had a kiddy drum set I used to play with and annoy the hell out of my mom. She got me a real one when I was twelve and I’ve been playing ever since.”
    “And how old are you now?”
    “I just turned twenty-one a week ago.”
    My heart flutters. Twenty-one isn’t too bad. I