Page 60 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

“Eight?” Deacon echoed. Even he was shocked at hearing that—mostly because our music wasn’t for eight-year-olds, and also, four years ago, we weren’t half as big as we were now. She was pretty much one of the OG fans.

“Uh-huh.” Cleo nodded proudly. She was a skinny girl, but I could tell she liked to bounce off walls. Heck, when she’d first seen us, she’d literally thrown herself at us because she couldn’t contain her excitement.

She was a character, that’s for sure.

“I was also the one that sent in the clip of my sister singing,” she rattled off, again proud.

Angel had told us the truth, how a strange twist of fate had brought her to us, but hearing her sister so confidently proclaim it was a lot different than hearing it come from Angel’s mouth. “You were?” I asked, tilting my head, as if it was the first time hearing it.

“Yep. It was my idea for her to date you guys, too.”

Okay, that was a new one. I was rendered speechless, while Priest busted out laughing so hard he had to hold onto his stomach. “Holy crap,” he spoke as he laughed, “you’re a funny kid, you know that?” Once he was done, he wiped an imaginary tear away from his eye and reached for Cleo, messing up her hair.

And she let him do it, smiling widely all the while. “I mean it,” she said, not bothering to fix her hair once Priest was done. “I told her she should date all of you and bring you home to our mom so she can get used to the idea of herdaughter dating more than one guy at a time, so then whenI’molder, I can bring home all of my boyfriends and Mom won’t blink an eye.”

“Wow” was all Deacon could say, and Priest, for the first time ever, couldn’t say a thing.

“Have some boys in mind already?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest and leaning my backside against the hood of the car.

Cleo was something else. She was a toddler when I’d been around—and needless to say, back then, I didn’t see much of her. It was like, after practically a decade, she was this whole new person that had suddenly sprang up.

A tiny person, but a person nonetheless.

“I’m twelve,” she said confidently. “I wanteveryoneto be my boyfriend.” She said it like it was the general rule for twelve-year-old girls: they were all boy-crazy.

And, okay, maybe they were. I’d never been a twelve-year-old girl before. I’d been a twelve-year-old boy, but at the time I was too busy dealing with my parents’ divorce and having to move away from everything I’d ever known to really pay attention to girls.

Well, except Maggie, but she’d been more of a friend than a crush, I think.

Priest chuckled. “You’re something else, kid.”

Cleo pursed her lips and cocked an attitude. “You’re treating my sister good, right? If you aren’t, I’ll find you, wherever you are, and take videos of you snoring and post them online.”

“Good thing we don’t snore—”

Priest tried to laugh off the threat, but Cleo spoke with authority, “I wasn’t done yet. Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to say that, once everyone’s laughing at you, then I’ll kill you.”

Deacon glanced at me. “Wow, right to the big finish.”

“She’s my sister,” Cleo stated. “Even though she’s annoying sometimes, I love her, and I will protect her from everything—even you three if I have to.” Her threatening demeanor—which, to be honest, wasn’t all too threatening to begin with, given how little she was—faded, replaced by giddiness once again. “But back to the band. I love all the new stuff. I can’t wait to get old enough to go see you guys play. You’re amazing.”

We were just going to ignore the threatening part of this conversation I guess, but I was fine with that. I smiled at her and said, “Thank—”

But I couldn’t finish, because she plowed on, “Are you guys going to stay for dinner? Please say yes.” She gasped and clapped her hands together. “Oh, my God! You have to sign the poster in my room! Come on!” She led the way to the front door, but none of us followed her.

“Uh,” Priest chimed in, “I think your mom wanted to talk to your sister in private.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “I’m sure they’re done.” She burst through the door, poking her head in first, and then she glanced back at us, saying, “Yep! They’re done. Come on!”

Such an excitable, rambunctious little girl she was. She had a much more boisterous personality than Angel, like two sides of the same coin. Life could never be boring with someone like Cleo around.

The guys and I traded looks, and then we were off to follow Cleo, I guess to sign that poster. I was the first to step into the house, and I saw Angel sitting with her mom on the couch. When they glanced at me, I said, “She’s got something she wants us to sign in her room?” I asked it like a question, for whatever reason, as if I thought we weren’t allowed back there.

That was dangerously close to Angel’s room.

To Maggie’s room.

Here she wasn’t Angel, she was Maggie, but none of the other guys knew that.

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