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“Just because I said you couldn’t drive doesn’t mean that I’m lying too.”
Jules snorted. “I was only implying. And actually, I wasn’t even doing that. What I meant was isn’t there some kind of insurance or something involved?”
Billie sighed. “I don’t have to help.”
“No, I want you to.”
“Then start behaving like it.”
“Fine,” Jules said, as they turned the corner of Billie’s street. “Alea called because there’s some sort of agent in the audience of the club they’re playing tonight. Something like that anyway. Somebody important.”
“And?” asked Billie, not looking at Jules and concentrating on the pavement under her feet.
“And I’ve apparently got the only copy of her newest song which she desperately needs to sing for him.”
“That shows serious lack of foresight.”
“I mean, there are probably other copies in her house or whatnot,” Jules said with a sniff. “But she can’t get at those, so I’m her last hope.”
“And you’re going to ride in there on a flaming chariot to save her?” Billie said, sounding bitter.
Jules laughed. “Jealousy will get you nowhere with me,” she said. “I’m helping her out because she needs help. Why are you helping me out?”
“Because you need help,” Billie said. She was quiet for a moment. “You haven’t thought this through, have you?”
Jules, who had trouble concentrating on more than one thing at a time, really didn’t want to be having complicated conversations. She had a fair idea of where her feelings lay, but she wasn’t about to spill them before she was ready, she needed to think, needed to really know what she thought she knew she wanted.
“I mean, you haven’t thought through what Alea’s asking you to do,” Billie said after a moment.
Jules stopped in the middle of the street. “What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“No,” Jules said.
Billie cleared her throat and started walking again. “You’d better hurry up, tonight’s main act can’t be late.”
Jules stared after her. “Um, Alea’s already there.”
“Yeah,” Billie said, turning for a second so that she was walking backward and could look at Jules. “But her pianist isn’t.”
“SHE COULDN’T MEAN that,” Jules said. They were bumping along a back road, the GPS on the dash showing a circuitous and yet, apparently, faster route.
“Well, what else could she mean?” Billie said, concentrating on the road. “You’re the one that lied. You’re the one that said you could play the piano when you can’t.”
“She wouldn’t do that. She’d give me the heads up, she’d give me a chance to practice and all.”
Billie shook her head. “Jules, you’re not getting it. The piece is quite lovely, but it’s also really easy. As in really easy. She was being kind giving you the music at all. Any decent pianist could easily sight-read it.”
Jules felt her stomach twist. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh god, that means she’s expecting me to play tonight.”
“Which is fine,” Billie said. “Completely fine. You can play it. You played it for me. Just block out the distractions and do what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks, you’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say,” grumbled Jules, still feeling quite sick.
