Page 22 of High Note

“I will.” And then she would deal with all the stuff with a band member who’d fallen off a ski lift.

Whatever all that was.

Chapter Eight

Kirsten sat on the sofa in the big fancy house that Skyla and the band were renting. It wasn’t far from her house—a few blocks over and up—and she felt uncomfortable as hell.

Still, she’d been asked to stick around, so here she was.

Skyla had just clung to her hand, so despite all the weird looks as they’d brought Lucie, the guitarist, back to the house, she’d pitched in to help. Lucie had a broken arm, and was in a cast as well as a sling that took pressure off her shoulder. Poor lady was asleep already, just worn out from the drugs and the pain.

“So. Who’s hungry?” That was the lady they’d introduced as Andi. “I’m going to make spaghetti and meatballs.”

The drummer nodded. “I’ll make garlic toast.”

Someone else said, “I’ll make a salad.”

“Can I just come sit with you a bit, honey?” Skyla looked tired, dark circles forming under her eyes. She’d been on the phone for about an hour, making calls.

“Come on.” She patted the seat. She should have taken Skyla to her place. The woman needed sleep.

“Thanks.” Skyla gave her a faint smile and plopped down, groaning. “Lord. What a day.”

“Yes, ma’am. I hear you.” She’d had to call off work, and she hadn’t even hesitated.

“Thanks for being with me all day.” Skyla squeezed her hand. “You really helped.”

“I tried. I knew you were scared as hell. I could hear it in your voice.”

“I was. I—I can handle emergencies, but seeing that… I think I panicked some.”

“We all did.” That was the drummer guy, Greggo, plopping down across from them, holding a beer.

“You were a hero.” Skyla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “You saved her life.”

“I was in the right place at the right time. That’s all.” Greggo shrugged, looking kinda uncomfortable.

Kirsten got that. He’d reacted, and now he was a hero. That was kinda weird, she would bet. It was weird for her, to be honest. She’d reacted, and now she was sitting on Skyla’s couch.

“Hey, Sky. Kirsten. Y’all want a beer or a Coke or something?”

“I’ll take a beer and a shot.” Skyla’s wry grin looked a little more normal.

Kirsten got a nod from an older lady with a hard face. “How about you?”

“A beer would be fine, uh?—”

“Brenda. This is our bass player.”

“Nice to meet you. And thank you.” Kirsten tried a smile. The band was nice enough to her, but she could feel their curiosity. She didn’t blame them. She just showed up—and they all looked so damn normal.

The drummer was the only one who even had any visible ink.

Kirsten guessed they had a look that made them country and western sweethearts as opposed to Ani Difranco.

Brenda came back with beers and a bottle of tequila, which she handed to Skyla.

“Thanks, lady.”

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