Page 63 of Red Hot Harmony

“What? Bug?”

There was a sound. Extremely close to a growl.

“Come on.” I spun her around to face the window, and the afternoon light streaming into the room made her eyeshadow glow, offsetting the color of her dress. “Let me look at you.”

She stood there, all elbows and knees, not quite a woman and not quite a girl, and she was mine and I loved her so much at that moment that I could scream about it for all these people who didn’t understand her to hear.

“Okay, Mom.” Ally hitched her shoulder to free it from my grasp. “Can I go now?”

“Of course.”

She left the room, leaving me one-on-one with my reflection, which I studied for a long time.

I went for an updo with a twist to showcase the beaded sequins of my silvery gown. Dante never told me if he was going to wear a tux, and we didn’t coordinate, because I felt that asking him to dress a certain way was to take away the parts of him I adored the most.

It wasn’t a black-tie party anyway.

My cousin Willy was wearing a navy suit. My other cousin, Donald, was sporting a scandalous business casual outfit. Brown slacks and a white sweater with a small carnation pinned to his chest.

Truthfully, I didn’t care what Dante wore. Just that he was here with me.

It was nearly five when I found myself outside beneath a tangle of leafy branches in the company of my dad and my other aunt, Aurora. There was a band and a small makeshift stage and the song that was playing was from Boston’s catalogue. I didn’t know which one. I just knew it couldn’t have been anything else, because my father loved Boston and had a huge collection of vinyls. I suspected that later on, there would be some Bon Jovi covers as well to please my mother.

“We’ve never had so many fires this late in the season before.” Aunt Aurora was shaking her head.

“We need rain,” my father croaked.

He was a big man, tall and imposing, with a mop of gray hair he’d tamed with a handful of gel today. Though age had withered his face, his eyes were still the greenest of greens, and freckles peppered his nose and cheeks.

“Very true,” Aunt Aurora said, sipping on her champagne and staring at the guests. “I hope the city doesn't issue an evacuation order.” She was an agoraphobe. The smallest thing could set her off and raging wildfires that were ruining acres and acres of land up north definitely qualified. I found it funny that she still came to the anniversary. But then again, it wasn’t like my parents celebrated forty years together every month.

“So”—my father snapped his attention to me—“your mother said you’re bringing a date.”

“He should be here any second now.” I glanced at my phone, noting there were no missed calls or messages from Dante since my unsuccessful attempt to react to his heart emoji. There were also no reception bars.

My father cleared his throat. “And he’s a musician.”

“Yes.”

“How interesting.” Aunt Aurora beamed. “Someone famous?”

“I think fame is relative.” I gave her a smile, not sure what else I could offer. Most of the time, I felt awkward being in the company of my relatives or my parents’ friends because they looked at me the way you’d look at someone who’s massively failed at life.

“Oh, you don’t have to be shy, sweetie.” She clasped my shoulder with her gnarled fingers. “You’re not getting any younger and it’s always nice to have someone to grow old with.”

I kept my irritation at bay only for the sake of my father. Getting into a fight over my choices with both of my parents today would be shitty. So instead, I did the one thing I considered smart—I excused myself and rushed across the back yard and into the house, where I tried to dial Dante’s number to see where he was, but the reception was still poor and the call dropped.

I marched to the front yard in hopes of catching at least one bar but got nothing.

More guests were pouring in and I greeted them all with handshakes and hugs and air-kisses.

Kirk’s brother Doug and his date arrived at ten past five and there was a whole lot of hugging and squealing and admiring.

And no, he wasn’t admiring me. He was admiring my father’s Corvette.

The dark cloud that loomed on the horizon became larger and the sunset was both scary and glorious. I felt the direction of the wind change so that the lights jingled above our heads and the canopies flapped.

“I don’t like this.” Renn caught me in the living room a little later. She leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “The air smells really bad.”

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