Maud would have walked away. It was funny to think of it that way, but Maud, who had started as a way to psych herself up for a performance, had become all about doing the safe thing. Release the safe record, wear the safe clothes, appear on the safe talk shows, date the safe celebrities, all in a quest to keep her career safe. Maud would have been relieved to wake up alone.
Conn McCormick wasn’t safe. But Cady wanted Conn, so she had him.
It was a tiny rebellion, or so she thought the first time, like sneaking a second piece of chocolate when she had to fit into a red-carpet dress. But after last night, after he let down his guard and showed her the anger and fear that made him vulnerable, it wasn’t just a rebellious choice to put Cady’s desire before Maud’s career. It wasn’t just fun. Not anymore.
Nothing in her life was fun at the moment, except Christmas. She knew in her heart she didn’t want to drop that album, but she had nothing else to replace it, and the scant hours she’d spent in her studio weren’t much more useful than wandering through a furniture store’s showroom. Her career was like the house they drove past the previous night. She had to fill the space somehow if she was going to have a career, not a hobby. The songs she’d written so far weren’t a bright red leather ensemble for the family room, or an eye-catching wool rug to anchor the dining area. They weren’t songs that anchored an entire album, much less a career. Details mattered when it came to making something look effortless: design, fashion, decorating. Music. All art.
Falling for Conn.
“Let’s not go there just yet,” she said.
She sat up, tamed her hair into a ponytail, then reached for her phone, wondering where Conn was and what he was doing. It wasn’t her job to keep tabs on Conn. She was used to being the center of a whirlwind of people, Chris a near-constant presence, her stylist, her publicist, members of various bands or tour musicians coming and going as the bus trundled down highways from show to show. She moved, other people appeared, followed, disappeared. It was, she realized with a start, unusual to want to keep tabs on someone else.
Had her view of normal become that skewed? Everyone else—her mother, Eve, her friends—all texted her with little updates. But toward the end of the tour the frequency of Emily’s texts had slowed down from twenty or thirty random thoughts, pictures, and updates a day to a handful. Mostly updates on her whereabouts. Going to school. That usually came with a picture of the day’s outfit. Headed to work. At the game. All with pictures.
What was missing, she realized, was the insight into Emily’s mind. Maybe it was normal for a teenage girl to withdraw from her older sister. Maybe it meant something else was wrong. She made a mental note to get some real time alone with Emily and ask her. She’d promised her sister-time during this break in her schedule, and so far she hadn’t delivered.
It wouldn’t be easy to do that today, with church and brunch and picking out a Christmas tree, all with Conn in tow. Emily didn’t like Conn, and the ease with which he ignored her wouldn’t make her like him any more.
As if subconsciously prompted, her phone lit up with a text and a picture from Emily. SNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cady scrambled out of bed and hauled open the blinds. Fluffy snow covered the driveway and the railings on the deck, and lay on the twigs and branches of the evergreen trees lining her driveway. She hurried back to her closet and grabbed her fleece robe, then shoved her feet into her monkey slippers and opened the bedroom door.
“It snowed!” she said to Conn.
“Yeah,” he said. He had his hands braced on the edge of the kitchen island and was bent over his phone. “The roads are a mess. Everyone forgets how to drive when it snows.”
An emotionless male voice crackled out of his phone. “Lights down at Ninety-First and McKinley. Female, white, driving a Chevy Tahoe, black, just drove through the intersection.”
“What are you listening to?” Cady asked.
“The police scanner,” he said as the dispatcher repeated the information.
“Aren’t the lights down there?” said a different, female voice.
“Be advised, I think she’s dragging them,” came the male voice, clearly amused.
Cady looked up at Conn and burst out laughing. “Good thing the Audi’s got four-wheel drive.”
He turned down the volume on his phone, but Cady could tell he was listening, processing the information unconsciously. “What’s the plan for today?” he asked.
“Very boring,” she said. Her phone lit up. Emily again. 11 service you’re coming right? “Church, brunch, buy a Christmas tree.”
He looked at her, then out the big windows overlooking the winter wonderland in her backyard. “You want to go out.”
“The Audi has four-wheel drive,” she repeated. “How are the roads?”
“Highways and main roads only are cleared,” he said.
“That works. Mom’s just off Decatur Street and everywhere else we want to go is on the main roads or a highway. The high is in the low forties. This won’t stick around for long.”
He looked at her, obviously thinking about arguing. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll need extra time to get there.”