Page 74 of With Stars in Her Eyes
“And also fuck her senseless.”
“Well then, by golly, Miss Thea, sounds like you finally voiced your intentions?” He cleared his throat. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“She might have said. Everything’s fuzzy. I remember her saying something about someone threatening to sue her if she didn’t fly out?”
He rubbed his beard. “Samantha said she’s in some kind of band situation that’s not great. I wonder if it’s a contract dispute. If music stuff is anything like football, that shit gets serious. I might have some friends who have lawyers if she needs one.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’ll ask her when she gets back. She must play for one of those big orchestras or something. Maybe another cellist dropped out of a performance at the last minute.”
A message popped up on her phone from a number without a name.
Check your email.
Courtney had sent an email. A long one. I grinned as I skimmed the text. The woman was still respecting my boundaries. Even the dumb ones.
“She says she’ll be back next Thursday.” My shoulders slumped. “Perfect. I leave that day for the stupid shower.”
“That sucks. But seems like she’s making her intentions pretty clear too. Which means I think I would’ve won the over-under pool if Samantha hadn’t refused to bet.” Marshall’s facewas both amused and satisfied. It was sweet. But also pretty annoying. Basically Marshall’s personality since he was three years old.
“Hey so,didyou call your dad yet?” My head waggled in agotchakind of way.
“It’s only eight o’clock.Christ, Thea. You too?”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with your dad that everyone else seems to know about, but you haven’t told me about, which says you’re probably embarrassed or ashamed of your behavior in some way?”
“Everyone here needs to mind their own damn business, and let a man hold averyshort-term grudge against his dad if he wants to. Especially if the old rascal deserves it.”
“All right.” I folded my hands together. “Won’t ask about it again.”
“Now you’re making me feel even worse.”
“I’m just sitting here.” I gave my most innocent angelic expression—the one Courtney had once called scary—although it probably looked utterly ridiculous given my disgusting hangover.
“Take a shower.”
He bent to grab the books I’d knocked to the floor. “For someone who was being such a pain in the ass about these books, not really taking great care of them.” He stacked them back in a pile and then handed me a purple flyer I didn’t recognize. “That yours?”
“No. Must be Courtney’s. It was stuck in one of her books. Oh mygod. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“What? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”
“No. I just—the flyer.”
“What about it?”
“Iknewshe would like them, and she already does.”
“Huh?”
“The Violet Trikes.” I brandished the flyer closer to his face.
He stared blankly.
“It’s a band.”
He moved his head from side to side. “I guess it rings a bell?”
“I swear I’ve mentioned them a bunch.” I opened their website on my phone. “Damn it.”
