“And I always mean it,” Chris said smoothly, producing a bottle from his jacket pocket and restoring the normally impeccable lines of his suit. In concession to the casual concert venue, he’d stuffed his tie into his pocket and opened the top two buttons of his shirt. A single strand of his dishwater blond hair escaped from the gel slicking it back, giving him a vaguely rumpled look. “This time was different. Normally you’re dialed up to eleven on the scale. Tonight you were around fifteen.”
“These are my peeps,” Cady said after she swallowed half the water. She hooked her thumb in her guitar strap and hoisted it over her head. “I’m home. I’ve been playing for them since I was fifteen, busking in SoMa.”
“Usually without a permit,” came a familiar voice next to her.
“Eve, hi!” She backed away a step when Eve reached for her. “No, you really don’t want to hug me. I’ve sweated through my jeans.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eve said, and swept her up. “That was amazing! I loved the new take on “Summer Nights.” Where do you get your energy? You’ve been on the road for weeks now!”
Cady hugged her back, just as hard, so grateful for her friend’s early and vocal support. Chris was checking Eve out, not all that covertly, either. Eve had that kind of impact on men, even in jeans, ankle boots, and a crisp white button-down. “I’ve been on the road for months. We did the state fair circuit over the summer, where I ate every kind of food on a stick you can eat.”
“Including fried candy bars?” Eve asked.
“All the fried candy bars,” Cady said. Performing burned so many calories, she could eat whatever she wanted and stay in shape. “I drew the line at a Twinkie log on a stick, though,” she added before finishing the rest of the water.
“You’ve got standards,” Eve said, still smiling. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
“You too.” Absently, Cady introduced Chris and Eve, peering around the rapidly dismantling backstage, looking for her sister and mother. She heard Emily before she saw her, high-pitched voice, the clatter of heels as she rounded the corner and made straight for Cady.
“You’re home!” Emily shrieked and launched herself at Cady.
“You’re taller!” Cady laughed into Emily’s hair as she wrapped her arms around Cady and pulled her close. “Great outfit,” she said when Emily let go long enough for her to lean back and get a closer look.
“She tried on everything she owned,” her mother said, coming in for a hug.
“Hi, Mom. Thanks for coming,” Cady said.
“Ah, good to see you again, Mrs. Ward,” Chris said.
Her mother smiled at him and reached for Cady to give her a quick hug and kiss. “We need to get home soon. It’s a school night.”
“It’s Cady’s homecoming concert! We talked about this. I’m going to drive Cady back to—” Chris shot her a warning glance. Emily transitioned smoothly. “—home.”
“You said you were going to do that, and I said I don’t want you driving late at night.”
“Mom,” Emily started mulishly.
“It’s fine,” Cady said, snagging her guitar case from the roadie who’d appeared beside her. Best to head off a fight at the pass. “I’m coming home tonight, so Emily will get a good night’s sleep. Right, Em?”
Emily had the good sense to be gracious in victory, giving their mother a big hug and standing demurely by Cady’s side to hold the guitar case for her. “You really like the outfit?”
At sixteen, her sister was five ten without the three-inch heels, slender as a wire coat hanger. She wore a black skirt with car wash pleats, a slim gray turtleneck, and gray suede over-the-knee boots that left a good four inches of bare thigh. The outfit would have been sleek New York professional except Emily had gone for broke with her makeup, layering in smoky eyes, a hint of blush, and dark lips. She looked far older and more sophisticated than the gawky girl Cady remembered from her last visit in February, before Emily’s birthday. Emily had been trying on styles for a couple of years now, trying to find who she was as a growing woman. “You look amazing,” Cady said.
“I made the skirt,” Emily started. “The sweater’s from—”
A mic stand tipped into an equalizer before crashing to the floor just before a man stumbled out from behind a wall of boxed equipment. He untangled his feet, then tripped again as the mic stand rolled back in his direction. He got himself upright and looked around with the fierce concentration of the stupidly drunk. He caught sight of Cady, and everyone stopped talking.
“Maud!” he yelled. Man-bun drooping at his nape, he stretched a hand toward her. “Maud, I need to talk to you!”
“Who’s that?” Emily asked.
“No idea.” Cady quickly scanned the backstage area for an exit strategy. The last thing she wanted to do was bolt onto the stage, where a crowd still lingered, with their phones and cameras. Her back was literally to the wall, and her little sister stood beside her in heels Cady would bet her Fender Emily couldn’t run in. As unobtrusively as she could, she stepped in front of her not-so-little sister.
“You said we didn’t need security in Lancaster,” Chris said, his voice low and calm, not taking his eyes off the man.
“We don’t.… Hey, big guy,” she said easily. “What’s up?”