Trevor dropped off ten ounces in Hot Springs every two weeks. The hour drive felt easy. It took him through Asheville, where he made daily deliveries and checked on Hailey at the Eden Café. Angelina had resisted expanding so far out of her provenance, but once she saw how crucial funds were to the Consortium, she hit upon friends, who bought big amounts. The crop was plentiful, and thanks to Jacob’s horticultural skills, was reaching sacred quality.
Trevor begged to take their superior herb into the resort hotels, but Angelina said her personal contacts would keep everything cool. Besides, the whole thing scared Brian. “I’m craven,” he had said, trying unsuccessfully to finesse the Jamaican expression. Trevor explained, “No way you’re greedy, Brian. So don’t say you are.”
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Trevor drove Angelina’s station wagon with one hand on the wheel, listening to the demo CD of his band, which now included Earle and Zanz. Earle’s chants looped through the band’s rendition of “Misty Morning.” Zanz’s congas laid down an inside-out beat. Then Trevor and Earle shared a stand-up mic. Earle’s voice was silken and strong and Trevor’s a weak alto prone to slip out of key. But Hailey’s brother Leon had fixed the sound through a laptop so that the voices stayed in harmony and Trevor’s guitar stayed on track.
Everyone liked Trevor’s name for the band, “Awake.” In Asheville, he had walked the CD over to the Avalon and landed a gig as the warm-up group every Tuesday. Their ranking was disappointing, but Trevor convinced everyone that after the band performed, they’d get girls, which he knew the Jamaican carpenters missed desperately.
Andrew already had found a girl’s affection: Carla’s. He kept asking Trevor what was decent. Carla had told him whatever she desired was all right—she and Brian weren’t married. But Andrew stepped back until he could check with Brian.
“Don’t bother with him,” Trevor had said. “Brian will act like he feels no way. And maybe that’s true, but I see my brother in ways he can’t see himself. Give him a little time. Then see.”
“I’ll stay back so.”
“You’re way more honorable than me, Andrew.”
“In love, who isn’t, mon?”
Trevor rounded a curve that only a few hours ago wore swathes of pillowy fog from where the hot springs met the river. Now the light bouncing off the pools filled his eyes until Trevor shimmered in sync with the dazzling water. A flash of interference—he wasn’t sure. A white van? The music surrounded him; music and water and everything rocking as one suspended him as Angelina’s station wagon swerved across the double line and smashed through the guard rail.
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