Page 3 of The Duet

“Yeah.” She bats her lashes once.

“Sure, I mean, if you think that I’m up to that.” There’s not a lot left of my earlier bravado.

“Good.” She plunges her hands into her pockets. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were up to it.”

“Okay. Thanks. Yes, let’s do it.”

“We should get some serious rehearsal time in. The tour kicks off in three days. I need to talk to the band, but I was thinking we could add it as the last encore. Send people home with some good vibes.”

Some good lesbian vibes, I almost say, but catch myself. Although I don’t know why. Surely, I could say something like that to Lana. But I don’t know her all that well—yet.

“Sure,” I say, instead of all the things I’m thinking. I can hardly blame myself for this starstruck moment. Lana Lynch and The Lady Kings are rock legends and my band are not only going to be opening the show for them; I’m actually going to be on stage with Lana.

“Can you come to my house tomorrow?” If Lana’s excited by this at all, she’s not letting on. Then again, she’s known for being cool as a cucumber under the hottest circumstances. “We’ll do a few run-throughs without the band first. See how our voices match.” Sounds as though Lana’s got this all figured out without talking to the other members of The Lady Kings.

“Of course. Just let me know when and I’ll be there.” Never mind that I have a million little things to take care of before we leave town for two months. I’ll just do them in less time. Even if I didn’t want to get off on the best possible foot with Lana, I’d still cancel everything for a chance to spend a few hours singing with her.

“Roy will give you all the details. Thanks, kid.”

Kid. Jesus. So much for me beginning to think of us as equals.

“You’ve got the right stuff. Any fool can see that.”

Oh, fuck. There’s the blush. Damn you, pale Irish skin. The last thing I wanted was to blush in front of Lana Lynch. Luckily, it’s completely dark, and where we’re standing is not well lit.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Lana just nods, then walks off.

Even though I take a few deep breaths, I’m still beside myself when I join my bandmates. I tell them what Lana asked.

“No freaking way,” Jess says. “Why can’t I sing like you, darn it.” Jess has always refused to swear with us.

“Fuck. You’re going to be on stage with them.” Tim is practically jumping up and down.

“It’s not a done deal yet,” I say. “Going over to Lana’s tomorrow is more like an audition than anything else.”

“Give yourself a break, Cleo,” Daphne says. “Lana knows what you can do with your voice. You must have impressed her tonight. That’s why she asked you. Besides, they’d be crazy not to put that song on their set list. It’s been at the top of the charts for months. It’s probably the reason they’re touring again.”

“We’ll see.” Heat glows within me. I can’t wait for tomorrow. “Drinks are on me tonight. Come on.”

We head to our favorite Silver Lake hangout spot, where I try to calm my nerves with way too many shots.

Chapter 3

Lana

“I’m only fifty-four,” I say to Roy on the phone. “I’m only halfway through my second act.” With the life I’ve lived, and the knowledge of how fleeting it can be after Joan’s sudden death, I’m exaggerating, but that’s what you have to do when you want to get a point across to your manager.

“Even so,” Roy replies. In the distance, the doorbell chimes. “Music biopics are all the rage these days. And Faye Fleming has expressed interest in playing you. It could be amazing.”

“I really don’t think the time is right for this.”

“I’m sending you the script regardless. It’s fantastic, Lana. I wouldn’t be trying to persuade you if it was crap.”

There’s a knock at the door. “Yes,” I say.

“Great,” Roy says in my ear.

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