The Rules Read Online Free Page A

That was supposed to be Drew, since he had founded the band. But Mick had slowly been taking control. Tonight’s gig, however, was Drew’s find.
    It figured.
    “We have a gig. We have to set up,” Drew said. “That’s August’s Porsche. He’s here and we have to be on time.”
    Mick sighed and looked over his shoulder at Stacy, who smiled reassuringly at him. Beside her, Hiro had his earbuds in, his head back, eyes closed. Mick was so irritated. He needed some backup in this mutiny.
    “It’s just a show, Micky-baby,” Stacy said. “One last show in Callabrese. We’ll make good money. It’s like a paid practice.”
    “Yeah,” Drew said. “August DeYoung is connected. He said he’d give me some names of guys in L.A. to jam with. He knows the Stones, man.”
    What a load of bullshit,
Mick thought, feeling the idling of the van through his boots.
August DeYoung does not know the Rolling Stones.
But then he looked at the Porsche. It was tricked out. Probably some kind of limited edition. Maybe August DeYoung
did
know the Stones. That was the bewildering thing about their client. It was obvious that he had tons of money, and every now and then, something amazing would happen to August, at least according to Drew. For example, he had recently gone to visit Walt Disney’s family in Napa. If he was so connected, why on earth was he living in Callabrese? Was his family in the Witness Protection Program or something?
    “C’mon, Mick, chill,” Stacy said. “We’re going to be famous, but right now, we’re still broke.”
    That was true. Samurai was going to pay the expenses for making their first record, but that was it. When it came to food, clothing, shelter, and gas money, Maximum Volume was on their own.
    Stacy’s right. This is a paying gig. What’s the worst that can happen?
    He took his foot off the brake and the van rolled down the drive.

NUMERO UNO
    JACOB’S RULE #1: Look out for number one.
    An electric guitar wailed as Jacob Stein coasted his motorcycle into the cannery yard and planted his feet on either side. He turned off the engine. Whoa, creepy place. Jack the Ripper scary, even. Mass murderers on every floor. August liked the dramatic and all, but he had taken it to a new level of
Final Destination.
    Jacob chortled and took off his helmet, giving his hair a rearrangement before he pulled his phone out of his leather bike pants to check the time. No cell reception here, no surprise, but he was super early for the party. August would say he’d cheated because he had not waited for his little texted riddles and then sent his answers to get the next clue like a lab monkey rewarded with bananas. But hey, it wasn’t his fault that Hiro Yamamoto, the drummer for Maximum Volume, had come into the bike shop last Thursday. Hiro had been looking to buy some leather gloves and he spent a lot of time talking about this weird gig at an abandoned cannery he was going to play the following Saturday night. Jacob had been invited to August’s party that Saturday and Maximum Volume was playing it. So he had listened carefully, done a Net search, and voilà.
    August had announced that tonight was his last hunt
ever.
“The farewell tour,” he called it. He was graduating and moving on, just like Jacob. It was going to be a party people would talk about for years. Legendary. Something like a dozen juniors and seniors had been invited. Plus August confirmed that he had summoned Thea Ward from the land of high school nobodies to be Jacob’s scavenger hunt partner. Jacob’s mouth watered at the thought. Thea was
hot.
He had lusted after her since last summer, when he had seen her at the pool in the world’s tiniest bikini. Those scraps of string had made a thong look like an old-lady swimsuit. Somehow he had told Beth about his undying lust—
how
and
when
he wasn’t sure—and now Thea was on tonight’s guest list. Behold the awesome power of August.
    August was pretty cool, for a head case. It was too bad