Page 22 of The Duet

“Shoot.” As long as she doesn’t ask me out, although, I guess that wouldn’t be the end of the world either. We’re all adults here and I’m sure Billie can take no for an answer.

“Do you think it’s normal that it’s just you and Lana on stage for the very last song of the night—of our show? Would you do that to your fellow band members? On your reunion tour?”

That is a question made of the most expensive, fragile porcelain. Why is she even asking me?

“You can’t compare our band to yours. It’s different.”

“Oh, come on, Cleo. You’re the singer. You’re the front woman. Do you also rule over the other band members with an iron fist like Lana does over The Lady Kings?”

“Billie, um, I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I know it’s this enormous privilege to become a Lady King, to play with them, and to be on this tour. I know that, but for some reason, I’m having trouble finding my groove. Half the time, I can’t help but feel like the odd one out, like I don’t belong.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. You probably need some more time, some more shows together. It’s only normal.” I clear my throat, feeling massively out of my depth. This explains why Billie is on our bus. “Have you talked to the others about this?”

“I had a chat with Lana about it last night. After you left her hotel room.” She looks at me as though she’s dying to find out what Lana and I discussed before she arrived, but I’m not going to tell her that. “We were meant to have a band meeting on the bus this morning, which I cowardly escaped by hitching a ride with The Other Women.”

“Oh, shit.” No wonder Lana wanted to give her an earful.

“I know. I’m a bad girl.” She grins crookedly. “I’m sorry, Cleo. I shouldn’t be putting all of this on you. I just, um… I like you.”

I did not get enough sleep last night to deal with this. On top of that, aside from being on this tour, my mind has been so absorbed by Lana that I haven’t given Billie a second thought. Not in that way, at least. All I know is that she’s a more than decent guitarist and a great replacement for the legendary Joan Miller. She and Lana seem to have good-enough chemistry on stage. But things are not always what they seem—I know that from experience.

“Um,” I start. “I—” Did Tim not register my wordless cry for help? Mercifully, my phone beeps with a message. “Sorry.” It might be rude to check that message, but what else am I supposed to do?

To my surprise, it’s a message from Lana.

Can we talk?

“Something important?” Billie sounds sheepish.

I shake my head, even though I’m dying to find out what Lana wants to talk to me about. Is it about last night and the things that were said?

Billie huffs out some air. “God, I’m such an asshole. I’m so sorry, Cleo. I’ll leave you to it. Let’s not speak of this again, shall we?” She slides out of her seat. “I’ll get back on the other bus at the next break.” Without giving me a chance to reply, she saunters off.

Lana, Deb, and Sam have their work cut out integrating the newest member of their band. Although I’m perfectly willing to go easy on Billie, and honor her request of not mentioning our conversation ever again, because going on tour is hard for different people in different ways. Being away from home. The absence of a grounding routine. The pressure. The highs of being on stage alternated with the lows of the drudgery of life on the road. A different room every other night. A strange bed. Never being able to cook a meal for yourself. It’s the little things that get to you in the end and not every human being is made for a life like this.

I text Lana back that we can talk. Then I wait, but it takes her such a long time to reply that the bus is pulling up to a rest stop and we’re all getting out to stretch our legs.

I find Lana walking around the parking lot, her ear glued to her phone. I don’t want to interrupt because she probably sought out privacy to have a personal conversation, but she clocks me, and makes quick work of dismissing whoever it is she’s talking to.

“Sorry for not replying to your text. I drifted off and before I knew it, we were pulling in here.”

I nod my understanding. A few yards away, Billie is ostentatiously reuniting with Deb and Sam.

“Was Billie okay on your bus?” Lana stands next to me.

I can’t help but chuckle.

“What?”

“No, Lana, I don’t think she’s okay. Something’s going on with her.” I stick to my resolution of not mentioning that Billie also made a feeble attempt at hitting on me. “She’s having a hard time going from regular life to tour life, that much is obvious.”

“I know. We’ll deal with it,” Lana says matter-of-factly, as though it’s a done deal already. “How are you?”

“I started on that book you gave me. It’s quite entertaining.”

“Quite entertaining?” She smiles at me. “That sounds exciting.”

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