Page 19 of The Duet

“Seriously, though, Cleo is hot as fuck.”

“As far as I know, she’s single, so…” Once again, I feel like I’ve been catapulted a few decades back in time. Although I am too old to keep track of who has the hots for whom. The older you get, the less you care about soap-opera antics like that. All I want is for everyone to get along as well as possible.

“All right.” Newly invigorated, Billie jumps out of her chair. “See you bright and early.”

Instead of crawling into bed with Elisa Fox on my tablet, I remain in my chair, coming up with the pep talk I need to give my band in the morning.

“Where’s Billie?” The bus is about to leave and we’re one guitarist short.

“She arranged to ride with The Other Women this morning,” Andy says. “She cleared it with me.”

“What the hell?” Did I dream last night’s conversation?

“Is that a problem for you?” Andy narrows his eyes and stares at me.

“We had agreed to a band meeting on the bus today.”

“Looks like someone doesn’t feel like being in a meeting,” he says. “Do you want me to get her back on our bus?”

“No. It’s fine. We can talk later.” This will give me a chance to grill Sam and Deb. I find my seat. While the bus pulls away, I picture Billie sitting next to Cleo on The Other Women’s bus. Part of me wishes I could be a fly on the wall, if only to witness Cleo’s reaction.

Once we’re on the highway, I collect Deb and Sam and we retreat to a private spot where we can talk without being overheard, although true privacy is an illusion on a tour bus.

“It’s a bit disconcerting to have this meeting without Billie, when she’s the one who basically asked for it,” I start.

Deb rolls her eyes. “I’ve had my suspicions all along, but it does look like we’ve got a bit of a drama queen on our hands with her.”

“She’s great at what she does, but, in the personality department, she’s no Joan Miller,” Sam adds.

“We’ll get used to her,” I say. “She’s finding her feet. It’s only normal that there’s some drama. It can’t be easy for her.” I look my fellow band members in the eyes. “How about you? Billie has raised some concerns about my duet with Cleo.”

Deb rolls her eyes again. “With my hand on my heart, I’m telling you, I have zero problems with that.”

“On Joan’s grave,” Sam says—all of us are drama queens, of course, “neither do I.”

“Was Billie putting words in your mouths?” If so, this is a bigger problem. I’m perfectly willing to cut Billie all the slack she needs to adjust to us, but I will never accept lies.

“She came to us about it, but we told her to cool it,” Deb says. “She seemed okay.”

“I told her to talk it out with you if it bothered her so much. I guess that’s what she tried to do,” Sam says.

“Pity she isn’t here. I’m beginning to understand why.”

“She has the hots for Cleo,” Deb says. “That might actually be what this is all about.”

“We should have taken a gay male band on tour, not another bunch of lesbians,” I joke, although there is some truth in it.

“Daphne is all over Tessie already.”

And Jess would love to be all over me, I think. Billie’s got a crush on Cleo. And Cleo… I don’t know. She hasn’t said it in so many words, but maybe she’s telling me every single time we go out on stage together.

“You and Linda are okay?” I ask Deb, just to be sure.

Deb nods. “She’s flying out to New York once we reach the East Coast,” she says matter-of-factly, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world for Deb to be away from home for two months, touring with a bunch of queers. It was Deb and Linda’s normal for a long time—until Joan’s death turned their world upside down as well.

“I’m still off women. Can barely stand to be around them,” Sam jokes.

“Tough titties for you then, girl.” Deb slings an arm around Sam. “Because there’s a lot of estrogen on this tour.”

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