“Because I want to check on Papa. Even if it’s just long enough to give him a quick hug and remind him to take his pills.”
Gavin frowns, but finally relents. “I can’t guarantee there will be time for that, but we can try. I’m leaving at midnight. With you or without you. That will put me there as soon as the jail opens so I can pay her bail and get her home in time to get back here for sound check.”
“Midnight. Got it. I’ll be here.”
“Don’t waste time coming back here. I’ll be outside of Crave. But I’m not messing around. Midnight.”
“Yes, fairy godmother. Midnight or I turn into a pumpkin.”
“Yeah, okay.” He scratches his head and looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, then goes inside.
Gavin probably doesn’t know about Cinderella. Not all the specifics, anyway. I don’t know why I thought he would, other than I assume every child would have at some point. But no one ever would’ve read it to him or taken him to see the movie. He probably doesn’t know many fairy tales. How this has escaped me all these years is beyond me. I add reading him the best of the Brothers Grimm and a Disney movie marathon to my list of things to do.
Chapter 15
AFTON TEXTS ME AT A QUARTER TO ELEVEN TO LET ME KNOW HIS show has ended and he’s heading over to pick me up for the party.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror and hold my hair up with one hand, trying to decide if up or down is the way to go. I paired my favorite black leather secondhand McQueens with the nicest thing I own, a short red halter dress I wore to my senior homecoming dance. Up seems more sophisticated so I grab a few bobby pins and tuck them tightly into my updo. Smearing on some red lip stain and applying a thick coat of mascara, I notice that my hands are trembling. I don’t know if I’m nervous about this party with Afton or what’s coming after—lying to Dallas, leaving with Gavin.
What if he leaves without me?
Fighting off a panic attack and the urge to text Afton and tell him I can’t make it, I toss a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and clean underwear into my black faux leather shoulder bag. A bag of plain potato chips and a granola bar from the vending machine are on the small desk in my room so I toss those in too for good measure.
I can only imagine what Afton would think if he glimpsed the contents of my purse. Probably that I planned on spending the night with him and possibly that I had low blood sugar. Whatever.
I’m standing outside at the front of the hotel when Afton pulls up in a cab. I don’t know if I was expecting his band’s van or what, but he catches me off guard in his dark blue button-down and black slacks. Cleaned-up Afton looks a lot older and more sophisticated and metropolitan than young, scruffy musician Afton.
“You look nice,” I say as I make my way toward him.
“Thank you. You look . . . hazardous to my health.”
I can’t help but grin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t clarify, just holds the cab door open and climbs in behind me.
“So this party . . . bigwigs, huh?”
He shrugs in the back of the darkened cab as the driver takes off. I figure Afton already gave him our final destination. “Sort of. It’s a small gathering. A record label executive interested in All Grown Up invited me. Probably just wants to flash his bling and entice me to sign with them.”
“This happen a lot?” I ask while watching the electric rainbow of neon lights blurring by us before returning my attention to him.
“Occasionally.” His eyes slide over me and I feel every place they land. My mouth. My chest. My bare legs.
His attention makes me squirm and I hope he doesn’t notice. “Can I ask why you invited me? Specifically?”