Free A Bleu Streak Summer (The Bleu Series Book 3) by T.I. Lowe Page B

Max’s unfocused attention.
    “Yo,” he muttered.
    “Where have you been and where’s Will?” Jewels demanded while braiding Grace’s long black hair.
    “We grabbed some hot dogs.” As Max eased over to the deck table the sounds of violent retching came from the side of the house. “He’s okay. Thought he could out-eat me. Guess that’s a lesson learned.”
    Jewels was instantly up and out of her chair, but Will came around the corner looking pale before she got too far. “Will, you should have known better than to try out-eating Wormy.”
    “Hey!” Max spoke up, while gesturing to his not-wormy physique. Jewels glared at him, so he thought it best to let her slide.
    Will moaned as he staggered into the house with Jewels following him. “Let’s get you some antacids,” she offered along with a pat on the back.
    “Thanks for the invite,” Mave snapped.
    “Figured you were busy eating salad.” Max gave Mave a wry smile, causing his brother to reciprocate it with a punch in the arm.
    “Not cool,” Mave muttered, heading inside as well.
    “How many dogs did Will eat?” Dillon asked, his feet kicked up on the deck table with his hands laced behind his head. Always laidback.
    “I think he managed about nine.”
    “And you?” Logan asked, mimicking Dillon’s pose on the other side of the table. His aviators concealing the amusement twinkling in his golden eyes.
    “Thirteen, but then I grabbed a few more for the drive home.” Max shrugged before heading in to shower, leaving the guys chuckling.

 
     
    FIVE
     
     
    “Mess Around”
    -Cage the Elephant
     
    “What If I”
    -Meghan Trainor
     
     
    Tate pushed through the guarded door of the green room that was actually grey. He found the band hanging out as they always did before a concert. Three black leather couches and a few plush chairs were occupied by the guys as well as Blake and Ben. Both Mave and Will were using a set of barstools as makeshift drums while the others watched on. The family had already been escorted to the VIP section up front of the arena to catch the opening show, so now was the bands calm before the show.
    Well, that was the plan…
    “Interview time. Max, you may want to put a shirt on,” Tate said, eyeing the half-dressed guitarist, also noticing no shoes were on his feet.
    Max looked up from the guitar he was lazily strumming. “Why’s that?”
    “This is a live interview for Entertainment Now , and they want to feature you.” Tate picked up the shirt resting on the arm of Max’s chair and signaled for him to put it on.
    “Why’s that?” Max repeated, not making a move for the shirt.
    “You just stole the show at the music festival with that mind-blowing performance. Why else?” Tate rolled his eyes, his annoyance prevalent with the wickedly talented guitarist still not comprehending it. The entire band, for that matter, didn’t get the ramifications of their talent. Not even multi-platinum records, #1 hit songs, and a treasure trove of awards seemed to make it clear about the level of fame they had earned over the years.
    “Get the shirt on,” Ben spoke up as he tossed Max his abandoned pair of Converses.
    “Yes, sir,” Max mocked as he pulled on the black V-neck shirt and shoved his feet into the shoes. He reached behind him to retrieve the black fedora from the floor and shoved it low on his head using it as a shield for his eyes and the bad case of bedhead he was sporting. His palm tested the side of his jaw, thankful some scruff remained even though Jewels and Izzy held him down earlier so the stylist could give it a good trimming.
    “The reporter has been warned not to go near personal,” Tate said with a reassuring nod as he moved back to the door.
    “Yeah, but since when do they ever listen,” Max grumbled, slumping down even further, wishing the suede chair would swallow him on the spot.
    “Who’s the reporter?” Dillon asked, his brow pinched with concern.
    “Vee Declan,” Tate