“You heard her, Ma,” Dash said. “She doesn’t need the fuss. Now can wegoalready?”
“Okay, okay.”
We headed down to the street. Orion had sent a car service to take us to the hotel. My mother’s eyes widened as the driver opened the door for her. She’d never gotten used to the sudden wealth in our family. I hadn’t either, but I’d used my CHA money to pay for school—mine and Dash’s—and Orion had earned his way in the music world on his own.
I won’t pretend it wasn’t comforting to know his parents would support him should he fall, but Orion didn’t fall. He soared. Now someone, somewhere, was always learning his name.
At the Belmont Concert Hall, we stepped into the lobby, and I almost smacked right into Tessa Carlyle.
“Tessa!” I said, stunned.
“Oh, shit, hi,” she said, then threw her arms around me. “It’s been too long!”
“What are you doing here?”
“Shooting a movie,” she said, her smile bright. A Hollywood smile.
“What a coincidence,” I said. “Mom, Dash, this is Tessa Carlyle. We went to school together at Castle Hill and NYU.”
Dash gaped at the world-famous actress, practically drooling. He’d seen her latest movie with the megastar, Zachary Butler, three times already. She and I had managed to keep in touch despite her meteoric rise to fame, which I’d predicted a long time ago, and she and Emery had been bridesmaids at my wedding.
Tessa was dressed elegantly, her petite frame wrapped in a deep-purple dress.
“We look like we’re dressed for the same occasion,” I said. “Rooftop party? Orion is celebrating the end of his first major concert tour.”
“I hadn’t heard,” she said. “But I’ve been following his career. Unreal. And you! Congrats on the degree,DoctorBennett. Or is it Dr. Mercer? Or Bennett-Mercer? I can’t remember what you decided on.”
“Bennett,” I said. “Harper Mercer sounded weird, and Orion doesn’t care.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t.”
“You should come up. Say hi. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
Tessa smiled. “I think I will.”
“Great,” I said, and reached over to close Dash’s mouth.
***
The elevator door opened to a warm June night on a rooftop terrace above one of the city’s oldest concert halls. Like most of Boston, it was all historic brick and grand columns, but with glass railings running the perimeter. Warm lights were hung in gentle swoops overhead, and there was a bar, tables, music, and a dance floor. Dozens of people—friends, musicians, and musical directors from Orion’s tour, I presumed—filled the patio in their finery, talking and laughing in clusters.
“Wow,” Mom said, glancing around. “This is lovely. Whoever planned this party has amazing taste.” She scanned the crowd. “Where’s Orion?”
“He had some things to wrap up,” I said. “Should be here any minute.”
Tessa wore her Hollywood smile again. “I’m going to the bar. Can I bring anyone anything?”
“Soda water with lime?” Mom said. “If you’re offering.”
“Same,” I said.
Tessa held out her hand. “Dash, help me carry?”
I thought my brother’s eyes might pop out of his head. “Uh, sure. Yeah.Yes.”
She took his arm, and they made their way through the crowd.
Mom turned to me. “No champagne? You don’t have to abstain on my account.”
