Page 50 of High Note

“I really like it. It’s all mine, which I guess makes me spoiled. I mean, it’s not like I have a private plane like Tim McGraw... I’ve had it for about five years, maybe six. It’s all decorated in purple because it was a gift to me. Like literally, a gift.” Skyla blushed so prettily and dipped her chin like she was embarrassed. “I mean I know. I do, but it was so sweet, and her daddy owned a dealership… At least he got to use it as a tax write-off, and so did we. At any rate, I have a bus of my own. It’s great because it’s got one big bedroom, and then it’s got another bedroom that I use just for my clothes, and my guitars are all in there. Uh… And I have a bathroom. All in all, it’s just a great little place for a home on the road.”

Kirsten didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine someone giving anyone a whole RV, much less a bus, but Skyla was a superstar. It was hard not to be self-conscious about that, but she told herself she made her decisions. She made her own bed, she was laying in it, and she didn’t feel too bad about that her people could have gotten her a lot farther than she had allowed them to do. That’s why she finally settled on, “I hope to be able to see it someday.”

“Yeah. I didn’t bring it. The band pretty much stays together on the other bus. It’s bigger, and the bunks are smaller, butthat’s part of the deal I guess.” She hesitated, winked. “That, and I couldn’t convince the daddy to give me two busses.”

Speaking of daddies… “Are you close with your folks?”

That was one of the things that Kirsten regretted the most. She had found family, tons of it. Dozens of women and friends who would have her back and take care of her, but they weren’t her mom and dad.

Which okay, sometimes even that wasn’t too bad, but there is part of her that wanted to be a part of a family.

“I am, yeah. I have a mom and a dad, my granny. I have a brother who’s ten years younger than me. He’s in high school. He’s fixin’ to graduate, and he thinks he’s gonna go to UT in Austin.” Skyla rolled her shoulders like she was tense, and Kirsten pulled the covers up tighter. No freezing her girl. “He’s very athletic, wants to be a football star.”

“Like in the NFL?”

“Yeah. He’s good enough to have been scouted up by UT. He thinks he wants to study politics.”

Kirsten blinked. No shit. “Politics? Well, I guess there’s always going to be those…” Although Kirsten wasn’t sure exactly what somebody who studied them would do. She figured you either had to get into politics yourself or talk about them on the TV. Either way, it wasn’t near as fun as having your own bus.

“Yeah. My mom’s sort of a politician. You know—city council, school board, nothing serious. But she has her own little space in that world. Daddy? Now daddy’s like me. He’s a musician.”

“Oh yeah? What does he play?”

She chuckled and rolled those big, big blue eyes. “Would you believe clarinet?”

“Clarinet as in high school band, Benny Goodman, “In the Mood” clarinet?” Okay, that was the one, and unexpected.

Skyla cracked up. “Well yeah. Exactly like high school band. He’s the band director!” She grabbed her phone and pulled upsome pictures. Kirsten would be damned if there wasn’t this tall, normal-looking blond dude in a pair of khaki slacks and a polo shirt leading a bunch of band kids.

“This is daddy.” Skyla swiped a few times. “This is my mom now.” Weirdly Skyla looked more like her mom, even though her mom was dark, than she did her father. She had her daddy’s coloring, but that little turned-up nose and that pointed chin? That was all her mom. She looked a lot like a woman who could get things done, like one of those old Texas Mamas—hard as nails, head hair like a helmet, could get things accomplished and God help you if you got in her way.

“And this here is Darren. He’s my brother.” Now Darren was a spitting image of mom—dark hair, dark eyes, face the shape of Skyla’s but thicker in the jaw. In fact, thicker everywhere Skyla was petite and curvy, this little boy was broad and ripped.

“Wow. He’s built like a brick shithouse.”

Skylar nodded. “I know, right, and he doesn’t have to work at it me. I eat one piece of pizza, and it goes right to my butt.”

“Oh now there isn’t anything wrong with your butt.”

“Well, I tell you what, if you’d said that there was something wrong with it, you’d be in big trouble. I might have to pounce you.” Skyla yanked the covers up over their heads, then turned to face Kirsten. “I swear to God, honey. Nothing’s ever been so good as this.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?” Kirsten stole a soft kiss. “This is the sort of thing you tell your grandbabies. This is the sort of family story that goes on forever.”

Skyla stopped and tilted her head. “You mean how I hooked up with a pink-haired lesbian at a pizza joint?”

Kirsten tried to let that not hurt, but it did for a lot of reasons. “Yep. It’s one of those no shit I was there stories—like a fairy tale without the Disney prince.”

“Hmm.” Skyla just looked at her, eyes narrowed, and she had no idea what that even meant.

She winked over. “I mean, I could be a prince for a day, if you needed me to…”

“I was thinking for more than that.” Skyla traced her tattoos, redrawing the patterns. “I—Is it ridiculous that I want to see you again? And really like, see where it goes?”

“Not for me.” But Skyla had this…country and western life. “What will your people think?”

“My people… Well, a very wise woman told me to screw that and worry about what I would regret later on in life. I think I would regret it if I didn’t give this a shot.”

“Regrets suck, lady, and…well, we got something.” She’d felt it before, and she sure as shit wanted to feel it again.

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