Cady, Eve, Matt, and Chris scuffled over who would carry the two enormous suitcases she’d lugged on tour buses and the occasional plane for the last eight months. Matt and Chris finally won, and followed Emily’s runway catwalk stride through the backstage area to the arena door. Eve and Cady trailed behind them.
The cold air instantly froze the sweat still drying in her clothes. Cady shivered, and Chris immediately pulled her back inside. “No way are you going out there without a coat and a scarf,” he said. “Emily, pull the car around for her.”
He unzipped one suitcase and flung the lid back. The thick, spiral-bound notebook she used as a diary and scratch pad for songwriting slid out of the unzipped mesh pocket, onto the floor. Cady crouched down and gathered it up, tucking it back into the pocket along with an assortment of cocktail napkins and scraps of paper.
“Working on anything new?” Eve asked, helping her gather the loose paper. She’d been around Cady long enough to know that her process was firmly twentieth century.
“I am,” she said, shooting a defiant glare at Chris across her suitcase. With a total disregard for her privacy he rummaged through a stack of underwear and her nightie, shifting heels and Converse, two of her favorite T-shirts, in search of her scarf and coat.
“She’s always writing,” Chris said, extracting the thick green scarf and her down jacket from the bottom of the bag. “Put these on. Hot water with honey. Bed.”
“I know the routine,” she said. She shoved her arms into the coat sleeves and wound the scarf around her face and throat.
“Part of the routine is me reminding you,” Chris said.
Properly mummified, Eve opened the door again. Em’s Corolla was idling by the arena’s loading dock. Matt and Chris stored the suitcases in the trunk while Cady slid into the passenger seat. Heat blasted from the vents, almost making up for the cold air billowing in the open door.
“I’ll call you,” Chris said, leaning over the frame. “We need to talk about your security.”
“No we don’t,” Cady replied.
“My flight’s at four,” he said implacably. “I’ll call around ten.”
“Fine,” she said absently. She wanted to ask Eve’s Matt about Shoulders, but couldn’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t set a bad example for Emily, so she called, “I’ll see you soon!” to Eve and Matt, and closed the door on Chris’s yelp about not raising her voice.
Emily zipped out of the parking lot and turned onto Tenth Street, then braked hard at the red light. Cady’s shoulder harness jerked. She shot Emily a glance, but her sister stared straight ahead. In the streetlight her eye makeup was starting to smear. Cady couldn’t even imagine what her face and hair looked like. After a show her face could resemble melting plastic as the lights and sweat worked away at enough makeup to animate her facial features.
“What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t introduce me.”
“You know Chris,” Cady said, bewildered. “You’ve met him a dozen times. And Eve.”
“To the hot cop. Eve introduced you to him, but you didn’t introduce me.”
Cady blinked. “To Matt? He’s Eve’s boyfriend, and he barely noticed me. Eve’s in a league of her own. No one notices me when she’s in the room.”
“Oh, he noticed you, Queen Maud of the Maud Squad,” Emily said. “You could have introduced me to him.”
“Things were happening so fast,” she said. “Next time, I promise. Thanks for getting the house ready for me. I’m so excited to see it. How about we plan on having you sleep over this weekend? You can help me decorate.”
Emily’s face lit up. “Ugh, I have to work both days and I’ve got homework, stupid finals coming up, papers due, but we can hang out when I’m off.”
“I remember what December’s like when you’re in high school,” Cady said with a laugh. “It’ll be fun. Like old times.”
The drive through the backstreets into one of Lancaster’s older neighborhoods took Cady back in time. Her mother still lived in the house she’d bought after their dad left. It was small, but refurbished inside and out. The house was from the fifties but recently renovated top to bottom, three bedrooms, a full bathroom she’d shared with Emily, a three-quarters bath off her mom’s bedroom, a kitchen with an eating area that overlooked the backyard and a den. Lights burned brightly over the front and side doors, but her mother’s bedroom window was dark. “The other cop wasn’t bad-looking. The really, really big one,” Emily clarified.
“Emily, he’s at least ten years older than you are,” Cady said as Emily parked the car in front of the house. Her mother had the garage and left for work by seven, which meant Emily parked on the street if she didn’t want to have to move her car at the crack of dawn.
“So? I’m legal,” Emily said
Cady had spent too much time on the road with male musicians to be shocked by teenage girls lusting after an older man exuding power and confidence. “There’s legal and then there’s smart. Sometimes you have to be smart, for your own sake.”