Travis slammed into the kitchen and flung his baseball cap onto a peg by the door. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” “What’s wrong?” Shelby turned from where she’d been preparing supper at the stove to face her furious brother, and Jordan stopped short in getting a glass of water at the sink. He’d never seen Travis in such a raw mood. “We finally get a decent gig in the city and Larry comes down with the flu! Our first chance to play for a big audience with decent pay, and now it’s blown!” He threw himself on a chair and scowled down at his boots. “Damn, damn, damn!” “Can’t one of the other guys take over?” Jordan sat down opposite the younger man and stretched out long legs under the table. “ No. Larry is the only guy we have who can play a decent lead guitar and back me up on the vocals.” “Aha.” Jordan furrowed his forehead and then looked over at the younger man. “Maybe there is a solution.” “Yeah? I can’t see one.” Travis turned away and stared moodily out the window toward the bay, sarcasm coloring his words.
