Page 40 of High Note

“Seriously, I like to eat, but I have to watch it on the road. Tuck everything in, make sure Jennifer is on the bus.”

“Jennifer?”

“Personal trainer. Hot as the hinges of hell. Evil, though…”

Kirsten had to laugh at that, though she couldn’t imagine just traveling with a personal trainer.

Hell, she’d never had a personal trainer.

Or a gym membership.

She hiked and biked and snowshoed and swam…

But then, she didn’t put on five shows a week, eight months a year. She would bet that required a whole different level of physical conditioning.

Hell, she was bleeding under her calluses from three days of near-solid playing, and she thought she was well-practiced.

Their salads came, and that cheered them both up, she thought. Maybe they were both just hungry as hell.

“Anyway,” Skyla said after long enough that it made her blink. “I have time. So, what did you have in mind?”

“Let’s go dance Saturday night. It’ll be fun as hell, just to two-step around the floor.”

She’d wear her good button-down.

“Oh! Sorry, the salad distracted me. I’ll go. I love to dance. I’m old-school enough to have been at honky tonks with cornstarch on the floor.”

“You’re not that old.”

“You don’t have to be if you’re from Texas, honey. And now I know you should know that.”

“Yes, but my people were not the honky-tonk types. At all. They are Houston socialite types. As in, debutante balls and shit. I didn’t participate.”

“No, huh? I came out that way when I was sixteen. The dress. The corsage. The book on the head lessons for my posture. I know which fork to use.” Skyla forked up the salad fork and waved it gently.

“Oh ho!” She’d shaved her head, pierced her lip, and gotten her first tattoo at close to that age. It had been freeing.

“Yeah. Man, I was always drunk at those damn dances, though. Vodka in a Sprite.”

“Bad girl. I love it. I spent a lot of time in a haze of smoke at the end of high school, you know?” She’d been a toker, no question.

Been.

She didn’t mind a hit of green to ease things down.

“Ah, you were that kid who sat on the floor and watched your hand move?” Those laughing eyes sparkled.

“And ate grapes by the pound. God, yes.”

“Oh, no. Doritos and dry roasted peanuts.”

“Uhn. Doritos are my Kryptonite.” She loved that spicy-cheesy-tangy yumminess beyond all reason.

“Yes. I used to eat them with French onion dip. Oh, and I had this girl who worked as a cook on the bus for a while. She would do this crazy thing where she’d melt baby Swiss cheese on them and then top it with sliced baby dill pickles.”

“Oh, gag.” The very idea made her feel a little hot in the face, like when you were just about to get queasy.

“It sounds awful, but it’s so good. Like weird enchiladas Suizas, I swear to god.”

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