“Well, no pressure then,” I mumble to myself.

  “OK, what do you got?”

  “Got?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you were supposed to be working on a brilliant plan, remember?”

  “Right…,” I answer.

  “OK…so, let’s work on that brilliant plan some more.” It’s not that I didn’t have a brilliant plan. Kade and I had spoken. Celia had given me ideas. Hell, even Harry chimed in once Kade spilled the beans. Amelia and Savannah even knew. I know my time is up because if I don’t tell Lark soon, someone else will spill the beans. And I don’t want that.

  I listen as Celia gives me ideas. We rethink everything. And then we rethink it again. By the time she says she needs to go and get ready for a dinner date with some actor, I’m feeling better about my plan, or my sort-of plan. But I feel more confident, and that is apparently just what I needed.

  Chapter 21

  Lark thinks that I don’t know anything about her, but she’s dead wrong. I could write a book about that woman. I know she left home to pursue her dreams of singing when she was only eighteen years old. I know she has a family, but she’s not super close with them. She does talk to them on occasion, but mostly on holidays and birthdays. She loves old music, and I don’t mean classic rock. She loves jazz from the forties and earlier. But there is still so much I don’t know and that is going to change.

  The next day as we travel to our last solo act on the road, I talk Gwen into letting us take a bus instead of a plane. My whole “we’ll save money” argument apparently worked.

  And so, I have Lark, stuck at a table playing cards. Kade and Savannah are playing guitars and singing awful songs from the eighties. Amelia was able to join us. I admit, when the six of us are together, it just feels like…home. Harry and Amelia are playing cards with us.

  “I need to go study,” Amelia finally says.

  “I can quiz you,” Harry says, squeezing her leg. She gives him a pointed look.

  “Harry, I actually need to study.”

  “Yeah, and I can help,” he says again. She laughs and playfully swats him on the chest as she gets up.

  Harry follows her to the bedroom in the back of the bus. I look across the table at Lark. She grins at me and winks, and I laugh.

  “Let’s play a new game,” I say to her.

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s play twenty questions,” I suggest innocently.

  “Twenty questions?” she repeats.

  “Yeah, you know, it’s when—”

  “I know what it is, but why would you want to play it? I mean really, it’s not even a game,” she points out.

  I shrug. “It’ll pass the time.”

  She leans back against the cushion of the seat. “Fine.”

  “OK, I’ll go first. What’s your favorite color?” I ask her.

  “Guess,” she responds.

  “That’s not how you play this game.”

  She groans. “Violet. And yours is blue,” she states.

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Remember that time you couldn’t do that interview for…I can’t even remember what magazine. Anyhow, it was like kid reporters or something. I had to get all the answers to their questions,” she says.

  “Oh,” I reply. “OK, your turn.”

  “Uh…” She puts a finger to her chin as she contemplates questions.

  “Come on, it can’t be that hard to think of a question,” I urge.

  “It’s just…well, I feel like I know almost everything about you.”

  “Really?” I ask with a pointed look.

  “Well…I mean, other than some stuff about your sister, and some details on your love life that I’d rather not know, yeah. I know lots about you, Lincoln.” Her comment about Carrie catches me by surprise. She’s not wrong. I don’t talk much about my sister. It’s not that I don’t think about her. It’s just too fucking hard to talk about her.

  “OK, what’s my favorite movie?” I ask her.

  “Superman, the one with Christopher Reeves.”

  “What’s my favorite sport?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Trick question because you don’t really like sports, but if I had to pick, probably soccer,” she answers.

  “Damn, you are good,” I say to her. She shrugs.

  “What about my favorite cartoon character?” I ask, thinking I’ll stump her.

  “Well, your favorite cartoon show is the Smurfs, but your favorite character is Daffy Duck.”

  “OK, what’s your favorite cartoon?” I ask her.

  “My favorite cartoon show is Scooby-Doo. My favorite cartoon character is Garfield,” she says. “My favorite movie is The Notebook. My favorite sport is hockey. My favorite food is lasagna, just like Garfield. What else you got?”

  “Well, shit…I feel like a totally shitty boss now.”

  “To be fair, Lincoln, it’s my job to know everything about you. You just have to remember how to sign my paychecks,” she says wryly.

  “That’s not fair, baby bird. I do know some things about you. I know you love horror movies and romantic comedies. I know the basics about your family, and you coming out to LA to sing when you were eighteen. I know you hate olives and love hot peppers. I know you detest heavy metal music. I know you once won a pumpkin pie eating contest at a county fair. Oh, and I know you had a pet goldfish named Henry that you won at that same county fair.”

  Her eyes are wide at my words. “Well, wonders never cease.”

  “I’m a jackass, but I…do care,” I say as I run my hand through my hair. It’s a nervous habit.

  “I-I never said you didn’t care, Lincoln,” she stammers. She sits up and reaches out for my arm, squeezing it, and my nerve endings light up with the need to feel more of her. “You just…suck at showing it. And you can be an ass.” With that, she releases my hand and walks to the front of the bus where she gets on her phone. I have no idea who she calls, but it’s clear that our game is over.

  Lark

  “Hey,” I say as Mimi answers the phone.

  “Hey, my sweet gal. How’s it goin’?” I can hear lots of noise in the background.

  “Am I catching you at a bad time?” I ask her.

  “Hell no. I’m just using my shakin’ weight thing. You are on speakerphone.”

  “Oh, if you are working out, I can call back later,” I say to her.

  “No, no. Hold on, let me turn down the music,” she says. “It’s Larkie, honey.”

  “Hey!” Hank’s voice chimes in.

  “Hi, Hank. I’ll be seeing you in a few days, right?”

  “Absolutely, suga. I’m just fixin’ to go down and meet the boys now for some practice,” The fact that he calls his bandmates boys makes me smile.

  “Well, tell everyone I said hello, and I can’t wait to see them in a few days,” I reply.

  “Will do,” he says. “You still are gonna sing a few with us, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say to him because it’s true.

  “So, what’s up, baby girl?” Mimi asks.

  I glance back at Lincoln. He’s got his headphones on, and his eyes closed. I turn back around.

  “I need motherly advice, and you are way better at giving it than anyone in my family,” I say to her.

  “Lay it on me.”

  I take a deep breath. I don’t even know where to start. Mimi knows what happened before. She knows exactly why I left. It all came tumbling out over drinks when I first arrived at her home.

  “I think my crush hasn’t gone away,” I whisper loud enough for her to hear.

  “Oh, dear,” she says. “Did you tell him?”

  “Hell no,” I whisper-yell.

  “Honey, I think you should tell him.”

  I sigh. “We kissed,” I say on a breath.

  “Kiss, kissed?” she asks, her voice going up an octave.

  “Yeah,” I admit.

  “Oh, my, oh my,” she says. “I think I had him all wrong. I think he likes you.”

  “What?” I say. “No.”

  “You know when the little boys chase the little girls on the playground?” Mimi asks me.

  “Trust me, this is not that,” I say to her.

  “Uh-huh, sure is,” she says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Mimi, seriously?”

  “Yep, seriously. I’d put money on it, but I will watch you two when I come up to the festival,” she says.

  “What do I do until then?”

  “Let him chase you,” she says. “Gotta go, the girls and I are going out later.”

  “Alright, I’ll see you in a few days,” I say to her.

  We hang up, and I stay in the seat and stare out the window, watching the fields and trees pass by us. I grew up in a place like this, a place in the middle of nowhere BFE America. Time seems to stand still in such places, or at least move very slowly. I wonder what my brother and dad are up to. My parents divorced when I was a kid. My mom moved back in with her dad a few towns over and works as a waitress at a truck stop. She smokes a pack a day, and I’m honestly shocked she hasn’t gotten lung cancer yet. She was never very motherly, and I hardly ever talk to her. My dad, Cliff, still works at a local car parts factory. He’s been working shifts there my whole life. My mom got knocked up with my older brother, Derek, when she was nineteen. It was a shotgun wedding, and then I came along three years later. Derek works at the car parts factory too, like half of my graduating class. It’s the main employer for our county. Everyone always laughed at me when I said I wanted to be a famous singer. And when I told my parents I was moving to LA, they said fine. I honestly think they thought I’d be back in a few weeks, broke as fuck and begging for a job at the car parts plant.

  Maybe that’s why when two different record labels and three agents turned me down, I took the job with Lincoln. It paid shit at the time, but shit pay was more than I was making back home. Plus, Lincoln offered me a room in the band house, and then in his home once he could afford one. And so, it saved me, saved me from having to slink home with my tail between my legs, a failure, just like everyone said I would be.

  Singing with Magnolia Tear has helped a bit, but they don’t get a lot of record labels coming to see them these days. A bunch of men in their late seventies doesn’t exactly attract the attention of the music bigwigs. But they’ve helped me prove to myself that I can sing. They helped restore a little piece of my confidence. I’m not sure I’ll ever get back the confidence I had as a kid. When you’re the only one who can carry a tune in a small town, it’s easy to shine bright. But in Hollywood, I’m just another Midwestern girl trying to be someone.

  I contemplate what I’ll do in another week when my deal with Kade and Harry comes to an end. Once the tour is over, and they are settled back in LA and gearing up for some time in the studio, I’m free to leave. Gwen has scheduled one last show in LA, but that still doesn’t buy me much time to make a decision. Part of me wants to stay, to try again. Another part of me wants to run as fast as possible back to New Orleans and the life I’ve made there.

  “Hey,” a voice interrupts my deep thoughts.

  I turn to see Amelia. She gives me a warm smile.

  “Hey,” I say to her. “How’s the studying going?”

  She blushes. “Fine, thanks,” she says. “Sooo, how are things? We haven’t really had much of a chance to catch up since you’ve been back.”

  “Well, you are busy with school,” I point out. She shrugs.

  “You can still call, you know,” she says. I never really thought about it. I mean Savannah, Amelia, and I have a group chat, but I also know they are much closer with each other as girlfriends of band members. When I left, they tried to get me to talk with them, but I just said I needed time. And time became weeks and then months.

  “Sorry…,” I say to her.

  “Sorry?”

  “I sort of bailed on you guys.”

  “We’re still here for you, Lark. I know you said you needed time, but we can still be friends. There’s more to our friendship than the band,” she states. And I know it’s true. I know I’ve been a shitty friend.

  “You want to go get an early dinner tonight? Just the girls?” I ask her. She grins.

  “I’d like that. I’m sure we can talk Savannah into it.”

  “Cool, I’ll search for some restaurants,” I say, typing up a search in my phone.

  Chapter 22

  Lincoln

  “Where are you guys going for dinner?” I ask Lark when she tells me about her plans.

  “I found a Korean barbeque place,” she says.

  “What if I need something?” I ask her. I realize I sound like a jerk the second the words leave my mouth.

  “Well, that’s why they invented cell phones,” she grumbles.

  “Fine,” I mumble as I flip through pointless television channels.

  “I ordered you your favorite for dinner. Room service should be up in thirty minutes. I left tip money by the door,” she says. I roll my eyes because she sounds more like my mom than my PA.

  “Yeah, I can handle it,” I say to her. “I can also wipe my ass and brush my teeth, Mom.”

  “Great, then see, you don’t need me,” she says and walks toward the door.

  “Have fun,” I say to her, and I do mean it.

  She pauses, her hand on the doorknob. “Thanks,” she says quietly as she opens the door and leaves.

  It’s so quiet when she leaves, too quiet. I’m left completely alone for the first time in a long time. Just me and my thoughts, and that’s a dangerous combination. I try to find something on TV, but every channel seems to stir unwanted memories. I turn the damn thing off and walk to my balcony. I look up at the night sky. With all the city lights, only the major constellations are visible. I find the Big Dipper.

  “Hi, Carrie,” I whisper. I shake my head at myself. It’s so stupid; it’s not like she can hear me, but, just as I’m about to walk back inside, I see a shooting star, and I stop. “If that’s you, you better give me another sign, or I’m outta here.”

  There’s a long moment where I hold my breath, hoping for something, but nothing happens. I’m just about to go back inside when another shooting star streaks across the night sky.

  “Damn it, Carrie,” I say a little louder. “Even in death, you are a pain in my ass.”

  I run a hand over my face and through my hair. I prop my elbows on the railing and look up at the Big Dipper again.

  “I don’t know what to do. I think I love her, but why would she want to be with me. I’m no good for her. I can’t possibly make her happy. I’m nothing but a fucked-up, asshole rock star,” I curse. “I wish you were here. Maybe, I wouldn’t be such a dick, then.” I chuckle at that thought.

  “Or maybe I would.”

  I don’t know what comes over me, but I sit down in a chair and pour my soul out to my dead sister. I tell her all about the band, the tour, my life, and especially, Lark. I tell her how I suck at being a son, and that Mom and Dad are great, but they can’t get over losing her, and I can’t be around them because it breaks my fucking heart. I’m not sure how long I go on, but a knock at the door draws my attention back to the present.

  My food. I groan and go get the door. So much for my free therapy session.

  Lark

  “Oh my god! Did you see her outfit?” Amelia says, wiping tears away from her eyes as she giggles uncontrollably.

  “It. Was. The. Worst,” Savannah manages in between laughs. We all melt into a puddle of laughing women.

  “Uh, can I get you ladies anything else?” a waitress asks.

  “Oh, uh, no, just the check,” I manage. She nods and quickly disappears. Her awkwardness just launches us into another fit of giggles. We slowly pipe down, sipping on our drinks as we sigh in unison and grin at each other.

  “We really do need more girls’ nights,” Savannah says. “We’ve missed you, Lark,” she adds and takes my hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

  “I missed you guys too,” I admit. “It’s nice to hang out.”

  “Let’s promise, we’ll make this a regular thing,” Amelia says. “Lord knows, I’ll need some breaks from my busy class schedule.”

  “How is your grad program going?” I ask her. She launches into details as the waitress brings the check. Savannah pays for it. She always does. Savannah is rich, like her-dad-owns-a-company rich. She’s always insisting on paying for everything. After a while, Amelia and I gave up on trying. Although, occasionally, we get sneaky and get the check while she’s preoccupied with her phone.

  “Well, I guess we should head back unless you ladies want to hear more boring school tales,” Amelia says.

  We agree and slowly make our way back to the hotel.

  “Night,” I say to them. We group hug, and I head down the hall to Lincoln’s suite. I knock on the door but he doesn’t answer, so I go to my room and promptly fall asleep.

  Chapter 23

  I’m awoken by knocking on my door. I groan and pick up my phone. Did I miss a call from Lincoln? Shit, did we have a press event this morning? A radio show call-in? No. No, we definitely don’t have anything on the schedule yet as it is only seven.

  I get out of bed and scurry to the door, looking through the peephole. I see nothing. I shrug and start walking back to my bed when there’s another knock at the door.

  “Yes?” I call out, hoping it’s a maid, and I can tell her to come back later.

  “You want me fluff your pillow?” Lincoln’s voice rings out in a perfect imitation of Tommy in the movie Tommy Boy. I groan and turn to open the door. What I expect least in the world is now greeting me…Lincoln, holding two coffees, one of which has my name written on it.

 

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