Page 227 of Goodbye Note

Serafin played the anxious host, trying to get everyone to eat, offering coffee, weed, and anything else anyone could need. When he broke out the Valium, I laughed.

“I think you missed your calling as a fifties housewife with a travel kit like that.”

“I like to be prepared!” Ser grinned.

They canceled the next week of shows. Varian didn’t want to, but we all agreed it was best. He didn’t need that pressure. Thank fuck I’d talked him into going back to therapy before all of this. He’d have someone to talk to if he needed it.

We flew back to California so Varian could be with Nova.

It was nice to spend some time in a real place that felt like a home.

“You know I’m just renting this place,” Varian said while we sat by the pool watching Nova lounge in a floaty, reading one of the graphic novels I’d gotten her into. Now she was obsessed and said she was coming with us to Japan when we played there.

“Are you?”

“Do you want to find a place to buy together when we are finished with the tour?” He cocked his head, looking at me strangely. “Do you even have a house?”

I shook my head. “Why spend the money? I tour so much. When I’m not, I just bounce around and rent. That way I can be in other countries or here or Chicago. Close to a studio.”

“Do you want to buy a house together? It would have to be close to Nova’s school?—”

I cut him off. “Yes. I don’t need the terms and conditions. I’m all in. I know you need to be close to Lindsay, too. We can look in the same neighborhood.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that so you can kill her in the middle of the night and not be caught since you can walk there and leave your phone at home?”

“Stop watching true crime.” I winked. “Not until Nova is eighteen. Don’t worry.”

Varian laughed and shook his head.

“I’d never do that. But only because it would hurt that little girl, and she has a stranglehold on my heart, just like her father.”

He took my hand. “This is really nice. Even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.”

“What?” I asked, lacing our fingers.

“Downtime. My kid—happy. My boyfriend—happy. Moving in together. My dad is dead. It’s everything I ever wanted.”

We both laughed.

* * *

Days later, we found out Victor had planned his whole funeral, and his estate had requests.

A whole ten fucking pages, which John had to bring over because they’d faxed it to him.

“Who even still has a fax machine? Why not email it?” Varian flipped through it.

“They said something about having it leaked. I don’t know.” John handed a copy to Vallen, too.

“Have you read it?” Vallen asked, tossing it on the table. He looked like shit. Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks. Like he hadn’t slept or eaten.

“No, I didn’t know if you two would want me to.” John took a seat.

“I’m sure there is going to be logistical shit in here he wants for his fucking funeral. Fucking self-centered prick. He can’t do anything without making it a huge deal.” Varian thumbed through it and froze.

“What?” Vallen asked.

“‘Victor St. James asked that both his sons speak at his funeral and has attached notes on his achievements,’” Varian read aloud. “Is he actually fucking kidding me?”

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