Page 61 of The Duet

“About that.” Daphne gave me such a hard time about it before, I’m more wary of her reaction than Jess’s.

“It’s okay,” Daphne says. “We don’t have to do this now.” She glances at Jess. “If Jessie’s okay with it, then I think I’ll be just fine.” She draws up her eyebrows. “Who do you think she spent the night with?” She slants her body toward me. “Between us, my money’s on Billie.”

“No fucking way.”

Daphne nods. “They were talking to each other the entire night. First, I thought they were processing some things about you and Lana, but no one processes something for that long in the middle of the night in a club.” Daphne purses her lips and gives a confident nod. “So, on second thought, I now think they were flirting.”

Jess pushes up her eye mask. “You know it’s very hard to get any sleep when two people are gossiping about you within hearing distance.”

“Oh, sorry,” Daphne whispers. “I thought you were out of it.”

“And that makes it okay to talk about me behind my back?” Jess sits up. Her face is all crumpled and she has dark circles under her eyes, looking very much like she didn’t get any sleep at all until she sneaked into her room this morning.

“It’s not exactly behind your back,” Daphne jokes. “And we were just speculating.”

“Yeah, right.” Jess doesn’t look as though she’s going to throw us any bones, until her face suddenly bursts into a smile. “If you must know, I was with Billie last night. She’s, um, yeah…” Her cheeks flush. “She’s pretty great, actually. But sometimes you just can’t see what’s right in front of you because you’re too focused on something else.” She eyes me intently. “How was your night with Lana?”

“I’m going to need more coffee before I can have this particular conversation,” I say.

“How was your night with Billie?” Daphne shrieks.

“All I can say is that she’s a skilled guitarist and has very agile fingers.” Jess chuckles.

“I can’t fucking believe this tour.” Daphne scoots into the seat with Jess.

“Is there a band meeting going on that I haven’t been invited to?” Tim rocks up to us. He slides into the seat opposite Jess. I might as well join them. “We’re not gearing up for another epic fight, are we?”

“For once, Tim has no clue,” Jess says.

“No clue about what?” Tim rubs his eyes. We’re all bone tired, yet we won’t be catching much sleep on this bus ride, not just yet. Not only did we play three legendary shows in New York, so many other big things happened as well.

Jess tells Tim about Billie, and I wonder if Billie has told her bandmates about Jess. Maybe the four of them are huddling together on The Lady Kings’ bus, rehashing last night’s events. It’s easy enough to find out. All I have to do is call Lana—I can do that now. I also get the feeling that come the next bus ride, many more band and crew members will be riding on different vehicles.

We chitchat for a while, mainly debating whether Jess’s night with Billie was a one-night stand or not, but no matter how much we discuss it, only time will tell.

“I’m the only one who hasn’t hooked up yet on this tour.” Tim clicks his tongue. “I’m the only one who takes this tour as the serious musical challenge it is, without giving in to distractions of the flesh.”

We all burst out laughing until inevitable fatigue catches up with us and we go quiet again.

“If I can just say something.” I clear my throat. “I want to make sure that none of you think I chose Lana over the band.”

All three of them immediately start protesting. I hold up my hands and they back off.

“In the end, I don’t think it was really a matter of choice. You are my three best friends. You’re my chosen family. We breathe the same air day in day out. We go out on stage and do our best for the audience, but also for each other. I could not ask for better bandmates and I love you all so much. It was never my intention to put any of that at risk. I really need you to know that. You three will always come first.”

“But Lana is just so good at licking p—” Tim says while grinning at me.

Daphne play-slaps him over the head. “Don’t say it, Tim. Don’t take the great Lana Lynch’s name in vain like that.”

“Is she, though?” Jess peers at me from under her blanket.

“You want me to dish the dirt on Lana?” I bring my hand to my chest. “I was just telling you how much I loved you, being all heartfelt about it, and that’s what you really want to know?”

“Duh!” Daphne says. “We love you too, Cleo, but, yes, we damn well want to know what Lana’s like in bed.”

I shake my head. “I can’t kiss and tell.” Throughout our years together, I’ve sat through many a bedroom confession from all three of them—and I’ve given a few of my own. This is what bands do—at least it’s what The Other Women do on tour. We tell each other everything. We share details from our lives that friends who are not on the road together might perhaps keep to themselves. Decorum and other unwritten rules don’t apply to us.

When you’re in a band, you aren’t simply best friends. You are friends to the nth degree. It goes deeper than any other friendship I’ve ever known because it has to withstand more. The foundation has to be strong so that when things get tough—and they always do—our bond just gets stretched a little instead of breaking. Details from our personal life are what that bond consists of—that and endless jokes, in bad taste and in good. And the incomparable experience of playing show after show together and knowing that we will always have each other’s backs, on stage and off. “If you must know.” It’s hard to keep my voice steady as my brain is being flooded with memories from last night. “Lana is every bit as spectacular as you’d expect her to be.” I pause for effect. “And then some.”

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