Jigs and Reels

Chapter 1

Jigs and Reels

By Leigh M. Lorien

Bring your violin

I should have had the sense to demand answers as soon as I read that text. Who the hell takes their fiddle to dinner? But in an effort to be more “chill,” I got into my best friend’s car that evening, fiddle case in hand. Once Katie had me ensnared in the silver-and-rust-colored death trap, travelling down the highway at speeds high enough to preclude my escape, she broke the news.

“We’re meeting some friends.”

A groan left me before I could stop it, and I blurted the questions I should have asked in the first place. “Who? And where are we going?”

I didn’t have the energy for spending time with people I did not know. Katie’s “friends” could be anyone from college girls to conspicuously single gay men, and if they were going to be at this dinner engagement, I would much rather be somewhere else. Alone.

“You’ll like them, I promise,” she assured me.

The non-answer irked me. “And why did I bring my fiddle along for this? You’re not expecting me to entertain your friends, are you?”

“What? No.”

We took an exit and I frowned. I’d thought we were heading for a restaurant, but we seemed to be pulling off onto a rural road. The old car’s brakes let out an ominous squawk as we rolled up to a stop sign at the end of the exit ramp. My seatbelt locked up and slammed me back against the cracked leather. For a second, I felt like a prison inmate about to receive his final injection. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the devil. I want you to win me a golden fiddle.” She grinned, a flash of brilliant white teeth contrasting her dark skin. Adorable as she was, I continued frowning. Charlie Daniels jokes about me being a fiddle player. So original. When I didn’t laugh, her smile turned into a pout.

“Fine. We’re going to their house.”

I groaned. “Katie!”

“You’ll like them,” she said again, reaching over to give my leg a reassuring pat. “I promise, Eli. You’ll like them.”

I did not feel convinced.