Page 80 of What Happened Last Night

Sienna adjusted her glasses and looked thoughtful. “She’s good,” she finally replied. “But good isn’t why Stone and I are convinced. It’s more about attitude. You’ll see.”

Juliet certainly looked like she had attitude to spare. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed ash-blond. She was shorter than the guys, slender, wearing loose-fitting jeans, a tight black tee, and a studded black belt. Flip-flops were on her feet, even though it was almost Halloween. There were silver necklaces around her neck and silver rings on her fingers. She carried her bass like it was an extension of her body. The blond hair, along with the black eyeliner that lined her eyes top and bottom, made it impossible to guess how old she was. She was maybe thirty, but in some ways looked older, in some ways younger.

She didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the four Road Kings. In fact, her expression as she talked to them was almost bored.

The door quietly opened behind us and Angie Miller-Gold, the band’s agent, joined us in the control room. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “What did I miss? Do we have a deal yet? Why are we staring?”

I stepped aside to make room for her. Angie was in her forties, but at twenty she’d been a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, and you could tell. She was tall, blond, classy, and gorgeous. She’d been widowed over a year ago, her husband passing of cancer in only his fifties. It was hard to hate Angie, even though a very petty piece of me wished I could.

“No deal yet,” Will answered her, not taking his gaze from the band. “We’re curious, but we’re not making any sudden moves in case she runs away.”

Amber slid between me and Sienna to get a better look. “I think she’s awesome,” she declared with the confidence of fourteen. “You should hire her, Will.”

“We might,” Will replied. “It’s up to the band.”

“I’ve never seen a female bass player,” Amber insisted. “She has to join.”

“She’s been in the business a while,” Sienna said. “She started an all-female punk band when she was not much older than you, Amber. Since that broke up, she’s bounced around, playing in various bands. Stone and I found her at a club, playing bass with a ska band on a Saturday night. They sucked. She didn’t. We think she’ll fit right in.”

“Oh, look,” Brit said. “I think she’s going to play something.”

The Road Kings all took seats, and Juliet walked to the amp and mic that Roy had set up. She took her time setting up, tuning her instrument and flipping the amp on. Then she spoke into the mic. Her voice was melodious and had a subtle rasp that gave it an edge.

“I’m going to play something,” she said through the speakers in the control room. “I guess all you people in the control room can listen. If you hate it, I don’t want to know.”

She started playing a tune I recognized. It was Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know,” and she played it solo, with only her bass and her voice. Who in the world played a solo song on bass? The song was already spare, but Juliet pared it down even further.

It was gutsy. I would never have the courage to stand in front of the Road Kings and sing something weird like that, completely solo, while everyone watched and judged. It shouldn’t have worked, and it almost didn’t.

But everyone in both rooms was silent as she played. No one fidgeted or spoke. I couldn’t assess someone’s bass skills, but Juliet’s voice was pretty good. She belted out the lyrics about the end of a relationship, about the other person collecting their records and changing their number, as if she was feeling it in real time.

Denver Gilchrist could outsing this woman a thousand times over, but she sang her song anyway, as if she was doing him a favor. As if she was doing all of us a favor.

When she finished, there was a beat of silence. I glanced at Amber and saw that her expression was almost adoring. Amber was an aspiring musician.

“I get it now, Sienna,” Will said. “Nice work.”

“You see?” Sienna asked, excited.

I thought I did see. The band didn’t want a run-of-the-mill musician, no matter how skilled that person might be. They wanted someone creative, unusual, brave. They wanted someone different who would shake things up. They didn’t want to play it safe.

Juliet might be that musician, if they hired her. If she agreed.

And if they hired her, she’d get a shot at playing the Greenbriar Festival, which we were reviving. We were bringing on staff to coordinate and run it. We were hoping it would happen next summer.

“Come on, Dad,” Amber urged Neal under her breath.

As if he’d heard her, Neal spoke. He looked sleep deprived from his weeks home with the baby, rumpled, and in badly in need of a haircut. Raine looked the same. They had left Sam with her parents for a few hours because they both wanted to be here so badly. It was cute.

“That wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t one of our songs,” Neal pointed out. “Do you know any of our songs?”

“I wanted to play music, not blow smoke up your ass,” Juliet replied. “And of course I know your songs.”

“How many?” Neal asked.

“Is this a quiz?” she shot back. “I dropped out of high school. I don’t do quizzes. Not for anyone, even you.”

“Ooh,” Raine commented, as if we were watching an intense tennis match. “She’s a bit of a bitch.”

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