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Cassie
We sat on the covered porch at Mozart’s, waiting to work out the details of a record deal that might be just a myth. I had left The Loyal show in a haze, the details Luke’s dad gave me written on my hand with a Sharpie while lying down backstage at the Sahara. Jake had told me it was best to keep my distance until after the arraignment, unless they called me in. And depending on which way Luke pled, they might do worse than that. Arrest. Last night, I had told Nora and Toby about the arrest. I told them that I didn’t feel well and went home, locking the door and lying in darkness, not sleeping.
Now we’d meet Josh van Ritter of Wolf Records. Two fates: one good, one bad. Two waves poised above my head. I didn’t touch my tea.
Shit was hitting the fan. I didn’t know what lay beyond that. I didn’t know what consequences I would face. I didn’t know how this worked. I didn’t know when, or if, I would be called. Would I be called? Or would they take me, too? Would they yank me away in front of my friends, cuff me, and let them watch as I took everything they’d wished for into the back of a squad car?
“Any word?” Nora asked, reaching across the table to rub my hand, sipping her coffee.
“Nothing yet,” I told her. No news. I had texted Jake the next morning, got nothing back.
Luke had put his minimal possessions in his bag, and cleared out. Mittens had wandered the apartment all night, sniffing the corners, looking for him. Every time I dozed off, I woke up to the sound of her claws on the wooden floors, and waited to hear his weight creak with hers, his quiet mutters. My mind circled around him. He was gone. He was gone and I hated him and I had forgiven him fully. I hated him because I had forgiven him, and I wanted to say sorry for hating him. Under it all, I missed him. I missed him and he was a liar and I hated him and I missed him.
Toby swung his arm over the back of my chair.
A cop car passed. I flinched.
Josh approached us with a latte in hand, big glasses over friendly eyes and a beard. He looked vaguely hungover.
“Hi, Cassie! I looked for you after the show,” he said, sitting down, offering his hand.
I waved it off. “I was fighting off something before we played, and then it hit me,” I lied. “Sorry about that. Don’t want to get you sick.”
“No problem,” he said, introducing himself to Toby and Nora, who wore smiles to their ears.
“Right.” Josh set his hands on the table. “So I don’t have much time before I have to catch my flight, but you all have it going on, let me make that real clear.”
“Thank you,” I said, and some of the excitement from last night came skipping back, making me sit up a little straighter.
“We’re wondering if you can bring that kind of energy to, say, twenty shows, rather than one.”
“Totally,” Toby said.
As I was about to assure him, a text came through on my phone. I jumped. I didn’t check it, not wanting to be rude, but I knew it must be from Jake.
Josh continued, “We’re thinking you’d be a great fit with Dr. Dog. They’ve got a sixties Brit pop sound, you’ve got a more modern, edgy take on that. More minimalist, more female dominated.”
“We’re so down with that,” Toby said. “They’ve always been a big influence.”
“Absolutely,” Nora said. “Right, Cass?”
“Yes,” I said immediately, trying to keep hold of the dual feelings that had risen in my chest, trying not to let the facts catch up with me. There was the ecstasy that all our hard work had paid off, that we could go on the road and play for strangers, that I had the talent and work ethic to make it happen.
Then, tearing that happiness apart, there was the possibility that I had destroyed every last bit of our new lives before they began.
Nora reached for my hand under the table.
I took her hand in both of mine, grateful, squeezing hard.
“So.” Josh stood, pointing at me. “I’m sorry you’re sick.”
I mustered a smile.
“We’ll talk when you’re better. But in the meantime,” he said, opening his hands to all of us, “look for an e-mail from me with the contract. Plan for a week or so from now, when Dr. Dog swings through Galveston. Okay?”
“Okay!” Nora said, trying to be cheery, shaking his hand again.
As he walked away, I looked at the message from Jake. Luke and Dad meeting with lawyer today, will keep you posted if they decide to charge him, the message read. “Shit.”
