Our headlights illuminate the exterior of a dirty warehouse with a row of fancy cars parked out front. There is nobody within a mile of this paint-chipped place. They do not belong here.

“This is where your uncle said it was?” Shelby nervously asks.

Another car pulls up and Ben says “That’s him,” as he engages the emergency brake and withdraws the key from the ignition.

Exactly as handsome and intimidating as he appears in photographs, Justin Cocker, Gabriel’s father and former Senator of Georgia, steps out of a black Audi and straightens his suit jacket as he meets Ben’s eyes through the windshield.

We all climb out.

Ben hugs him. “Uncle Justin.”

“Glad you didn’t try to be a hero and run in without me.” Their voices stay low as they separate. “Did you see my son’s concert last night?”

“I did.”

“How’d he do? His mom was tearing her hair out with jealousy not being there herself to see it.”

Ben’s eyes flit to me and he clears his throat. “I thought Aunt Jaimie hates how the girls go all Beatles-nutso over him.”

“She does. But she also hates missing it. It’s a battle. Being a rockstar’s mother isn’t easy. That’s what she always says. I tell her, wait until you have a President for a son.”

Ben chuckles and runs a self-conscious hand through his hair. Now that the polite, Southern chitchat is over Gabriel’s dad stares at the warehouse and I study his face without meaning to. He’s a blonde, clean-shaven, older version of his son. They both have the strong jaws, cute nose, intense pale green eyes. And they both feel unreachable.

Sensing I’m staring at him, he glances to me and Shelby for the first time. “Who is the sister?”

I raise my hand halfway. “Me.”

“You two are dating?” he asks Ben.

We simultaneously answer, “No.”

Shelby helps us out by lying, “I’m dating Ben. It’s really new. And she’s my best friend. Her brother stole my debit card.”

“How’d he know the password?”

“It’s my boyfriend’s name plus the number one, so…it wasn’t hard.”

Mr. Cocker cocks a blonde eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend and you’re dating my nephew?”

Clearing his throat Ben explains, lying, too, “They just broke up. I kind of fucked things up for them.”

Rolling his eyes, Mr. Cocker mutters, “You’re just like your father. Let’s do this. Ladies, stay here.”

Ben’s staring after him for a beat like, what did you mean I’m like my father? But bigger things are happening so he doesn’t push for an explanation as they walk to the door and disappear inside.

After a few minutes, I look at her.

“Shelby, I can’t wait out here.”

“Yeah, fuck this. What year is it?”

My hands are shaking as I open the door. She and I exchange a look and head in. The air is filled with smoke and we can hear low male voices engaged in tense conversation. I recognize my brother’s and suddenly my feet have a mind of their own.

Around the corner we come upon a long oval table with eight players. On one side is the dealer. My brother is on the end with piles of chips in front of him. I don’t know their value but he’s not losing. He doesn’t have the biggest pot. A few other players are ahead, too.

There are three bouncers along the walls waiting to strike now that there’s been an interruption from someone who’s considered a ‘good guy’ and doesn’t do illegal things like this. They know he has power in high places and they could be in trouble, which they don’t want. Things could get very nasty in here. Everyone is watching Mr. Cocker wondering how he found them, and what he’s going to do now that he has.

The former Senator is coolly explaining that Bobby is leaving now and to cash out those chips. “I assume we won’t have an argument?” he pointedly asks the man who appears to be in charge. This guy looks like he walked off a plantation, his linen suit pale yellow, and a cane rests on his chair. He’s Southern old money, most of it dirty if I had to guess.

“I’m not ready to go!” my brother snaps.

Frightened I can’t keep quiet anymore. “Bobby…?”

The room goes silent.

All heads turn toward me.

“Paige!” His eyes flit to Shelby and he sinks in his chair.

She is too scared to yell at him, react or even move.

Ben’s fists are at his side ready for use.

Mr. Cocker says it again. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“That all depends now, doesn’t it, Senator,” Yellow Suit says in a thick drawl. “What we’re doing is merely for sport, you understand.”

Mr. Cocker wears the expression of a man who’s seen the dark underbelly of too many illegal situations. “How ‘bout this, Franklin? You keep playing and I won’t shut down your private ‘sport’ as long as you promise never to allow Bobby Miller in the game ever again.”

My brother jumps out of his chair.

The bouncer grabs him.

I scream his name.

Ben grabs me and holds me in place.

“Shhhh,” he whispers.

My eyes are locked on my brother in the arms of that beast, as Shelby starts to cry.

Mr. Cocker eyeballs everyone and settles his calm and steady gaze on the old man as if none of this fazes him. “Do we have a deal?”

Franklin smiles. “I don’t enjoy drama at my parties. Remove him.” The bouncer wrestles my brother out, breaking my heart every step of the way. “Oh, and Robert?” the old man calls after Bobby, using his whole name in a sleazy way, like he knows him better than I do. The bouncer grabs Bobby’s face and makes him listen. “Don’t come back…understand? You do and Boone here won’t be so gentle. Take him away.”

I yank at Ben but he’s too strong. “Just wait. He won’t hurt him today.”

Franklin overhears this. “That’s right. Your brother is a lucky boy…today.” He nods to someone I hadn’t seen before, a man standing against the wall, hands clasped low, one foot casually perched. “Cash him out.”

Nobody else at the table has said a word, which is eerie and unsettling. They look like wax figures to me.

Gabriel’s father walks to collect the money for my brother. His trim body is tense as the chips are counted and the cash is placed in his open palm.

“Carry on,” he tells Franklin with a single nod.

Shelby hurries out with us as the dealer shuffles. Coming to life, the remaining players pick up their cards as they’re dealt. A shiver drifts down my body.

Outside, the bouncer gives a surly scan before he vanishes inside the warehouse.

Bobby doesn’t look like himself. He’s shifty-eyed like he needs his fix. He’s not sure how to behave now that he’s been forced to stop when the money hasn’t run out.

I’ve seen this look in our mother’s eyes before she joined the rooms of Gambler’s Anonymous. I hoped I’d never see it again.

Shaken, Shelby asks, “How much did you take from me?”

His desperation fixates on the cracked asphalt and he won’t meet her eyes.

Mr. Cocker asks how much she had in her account. She tells him and he counts from the stack. There’s disgust in his eyes as he sneers, “I’m going to assume he cleaned you out. I’ve known addicts before.”

Suddenly angry I take a step forward. “Don’t talk about my brother like he’s not human! Like he has no feelings! He’s right here.” Yanking the money from Mr. Cocker’s hands I count it out and give Shelby what was stolen. “I’m so sorry.”

Silently she takes it.

I quickly count the rest and there’s not enough to cover Bobby’s share of rent for this month. Mr. Cocker is watching me. I meet his eyes to insist, “It’s a disease. He can get help!” as I put my arm around Bobby to ask him, “You okay?”

“No.”

“Let’s go home.”

My voice is uncommonly steady as I tell Mr. Cocker, “Thank you for what you did tonight. I know you didn’t have to.” I start to leave and realize I don’t have my car. But my voice does not falter and my spine stays proud as I ask Ben, “Would you please drop us off? If you don’t feel comfortable doing that I can call a Lyft.”

“Of course I’ll drive you.” He guides a stricken Shelby to the Jeep. “Uncle Justin, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell Rachel what you did tonight. Your father can handle it.”

“Mom will never know. Thank you.”

Bobby’s body has deflated, his urge to fly back inside that warehouse, gone. He gets in the Jeep without a fight and I climb in the backseat with him. Shelby and Ben sit up front. Nobody talks until we get dropped off first.

Ben says, “Bobby?” My brother glances to him. “You ready to be a man yet? Getting help is up to you.”

They hold the look before the Jeep pulls away and harmonious chirping begins to echo off the Dogwood trees.

“The cicadas think they’re alone,” my brother chokes, on the verge of tears.

Hugging him I whisper, “You’re not alone.”