Page 86 of High Notes & Hail Marys

“Badass,” Ronnie enthuses, scoping out the cabin. “We gotta get us one of these, guys.”

Before too long, the aforementioned case of wine makes an appearance, along with the brownies.

“I don’t know if this is a dessert wine,” Alis says suspiciously, holding up a bottle. “Where’d it come from?”

Ronnie shrugged. “Colin said it fell off the lorry.”

You and Sterling exchange glances, but accept one of the bottles anyway. Each of the sisters has one, and Flame-o has his own as well. Ronnie tries to get you to take a bottle apiece, but you shake your head.

“He needs to take it easy if he’s going to try the brownies, too,” you insist, nodding at Sterling. You two are sharing one of the soft leather couches, his feet on your lap. Flame-o and Phoebe canoodle on two of the seats with the armrests up. Alis is rifling through the galley, and Ronnie is swaying in the aisle, halfway from the movement of the plane, and halfway from the music that’s apparently in her head. After the bottles are squared away, Ronnie ceremoniously passes out tiny cubes of brownie to each passenger, nestled atop paper napkins that Alis procured.

“Bottoms up!” she announces gleefully.

You examine the wine bottle in your hand. It’s the candied pink of ballet slippers, with a cursive baby-blue label that announces Prosecco Rosé. The contrast in pastels makes it look like it’s about to be used for a pregnant lady’s gender reveal.

“It’s got a screw-top,” you murmur to Sterling, bemused.

He’s too busy scrutinizing his brownie. “Do I eat the whole thing?” he asks in a stage-whisper.

Ronnie pops over the seat. “You ever tried an edible before?”

“No,” Sterling says. “I got high once when I was a teenager, but that was with someone’s bong at a party.”

“Aww. America’s little sweetheart.” She rolls her eyes affectionately. “How old were you?”

He looks sheepish. “Fourteen. My sister Noemi narc’ed me out and my parents grounded me for a month.”

“That’s… shockingly bad behavior for you,” you comment, impressed.

Blushing, Sterling hangs his head. “I think that was the only time I ever got in trouble as a kid.”

“Well, Mumsy and Dada aren’t here now!” Phoebe calls. “You can make up for lost time!”

“Maybe try half that brownie,” you tell him. “And take it easy on the vino. You have a water bottle around here?”

Alis takes a deep swig of her wine. “You two are so cute. I can’t even handle it. Just listen to Kaius being all paternal.”

You squeeze Sterling’s ankle, clad in his comfy sweatpants that cost more than your whole outfit, shoes included. “I’m not trying to act like your dad,” you say. “Just don’t want you to have a bad time.”

Sterling is full of surprises, because he leans over and kisses you. “Maybe I like you acting like my dad,” he jokes.

Ronnie’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “Did Sterling Grayson just refer to the Train as ‘daddy?’” she shrieks. “Someone get TMZ on the line. That’s got to be worth something.”

“Hey!” Sterling cries, his eyes buttoning with humor.

“Hey yourself,” Alis sighs. “Some of us are starving artists. And, by ‘some of us,’ I definitely am excluding you.”

“You guys have two songs on the UK singles chart,” Sterling retorts.

“Numbers twelve and seventeen!” Phoebe trills.

“Two weeks ago, you hadn’t cracked the Top 50.”

“Two weeks ago, we weren’t opening for you!” Ronnie says. “But no more chattering. This plane’s only flying for so long. Does everyone want to take the brownies on three?”

At Ronnie’s count, you eat your brownie in one bite. The treat itself is dangerously good, with a deep, dark cocoa flavor. Brownies have always been a weakness of yours; your mom makes the best ones in the world. You turn your head to see Sterling delicately licking the crumbs off his fingers after downing his whole brownie.

“You said you’d eat half!” you admonish him.

---