Page 96 of Red Hot Harmony

“Can you elaborate? Does he have a phone number, a Facebook page, Snapchat, or whatever other social media you kids are using these days?”

Now both mother and daughter were white and Camille’s expression was all rage. She rose to her feet and it dawned on me that they all probably had a much better idea of who this Braden was than I did.

To me, he was just some dude in a band that Ally had a crush on, but obviously, things were worse than I thought.

“I don’t have his number,” Pauline finally blurted out. “He doesn’t really talk to me. Just Ally.”

“I need his social media,” Camille demanded, all business.

“He’s in Fireborn.”

“What’s Fireborn?”

“A band,” Pauline supplied.

All eyes were suddenly on me.

“Never heard of them,” I said, pulling my phone out to google these guys.

“How do we get in touch with Braden, sweetie?” Jules inquired.

“I already told you I don’t have his number. DM him or something?”

“DM?” Camille’s voice jumped several octaves.

“On Insta or TikTok... Or ask Trent.”

“Okay.” I stood up, ready to leave. My internet search resulted in a bunch of photos. Fireborn was a local, small-time band made up of some sleazy-looking douchebags with hipster haircuts.

“We’ll call you if Ally contacts Pauline,” Jules said, giving her daughter a pointed stare.

And that was it.

We left their house and silently rushed back to the Jaguar that was now covered with at least a half-inch of ash.

Once we were inside the vehicle with the doors promptly closed and the engine running, I turned to face Camille and said, “I’m sorry.”

“How could you?” she spat.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal. The way she talked about him sounded like a crush and not something he’d reciprocate.” There was a bit of truth in my statement, but there was also a bit of a lie. I’d promised Ally to keep it a secret. Yes, long before I’d known the guy in question was much older, but I didn’t have the heart to confess my guilt to Camille. I was scared of losing her completely and irrevocably.

What I wanted to do now was fix it. Fix it at all costs.

“Seriously?” Her voice was different. The softness was gone, and only fury remained. “What is wrong with you? She got a tattoo behind my back. She’s collecting trouble like Halloween candy. You can never just assume things when you have a teenage daughter.”

She stopped abruptly after that as if she realized she’d said something she didn’t plan on saying.

We were quiet for a bit.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Camille whispered.

“It’s fine. I get it. I don’t have kids. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“That’s not…” She drew a deep breath as if bracing herself for something important. “I’m sorry. I’m out of my mind and I shouldn’t direct my frustration at you while you’re trying to help…Just please don’t keep things from me about my daughter.”

“Okay, I won’t. I promise.”

There was a small sigh.

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