Ricky picked up a shirt, shook out the wrinkles and held it out in front of him. “Not bad.” He looked over his shoulder. “What do you think?”
With a sigh, Kalila got up out of her chair and came closer. “I think the guys are going to freak.”
“Do you like one of the other designs better?”
She scanned the sample shirts with narrowed eyes. “The one at the end.”
Ricky shook his head. “That one is fine for regular gigs, but…”
“Yeah, I know. Charity.” She threw herself back into her chair and folded her arms. “I trust your judgment. Whatever you choose will be fine.”
Something about Kalila’s words rang hollow, but if she said the choice was his, then he would decide. He examined again the shirt he liked best: thick, good-quality cotton, the band name featured prominently, and in a design move that was sure to set Vic’s fangs on edge, an array of dogs, cats and bunnies posing with electric guitars. It was a little cutesy, but it was for a pet charity event. Dark and edgy just wouldn’t do.
“We’ll go with this one.” He turned to Kalila for a reaction, but she was gazing into the distance, as if her thoughts had begun to drift. “Kalila?”
She looked up and blinked.
“Last chance to say no.”
“Are you kidding?” She grinned. “I’m already envisioning Vic and Lazaro’s hysterics. And trying to get the werewolves into those shirts ought to be pretty entertaining, too. You’re brave, for a human.”
“Yeah.” Ricky knew these shirts would sell, but sometimes there were other priorities. He returned his attention to the samples and picked up the simple logo-only shirt. Maybe it would do, after all.