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“What’s up?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He flashed her a grin, dimples appearing in his cheeks again.
“You’re a child,” she said with an affectionate laugh.
“Like that surprises you? But seriously, c’mon. You’ve got that pensive look. What gives?”
She tried to equivocate. “Usual brooding creative-type personality issues.”
The noise—not quite a snort, but not a coughed “bullshit” either—that her cousin made told her he didn’t believe her. But he didn’t ask any more questions. They stood in silence, admiring the sun as it sank towards the horizon.
“I haven’t gotten as much writing done as I wanted,” Lauren said, tired of the quiet. She hoped that would satisfy Augie and he wouldn’t press for more. Truth be told, she was struggling with her songwriting, and the last thing she wanted to do was ‘fess up to that.
“So? You’ll hit your stride. Don’t get hung up on it.”
“I guess.” She watched a bird soar and bank in the sky. It was too far away to tell what kind it was, but she admired its freewheeling flight.
“You know I’m right. And getting the chance to work with Fitz is going to be epic,” Augie said.
“I know! I’ve wanted him to produce one of our albums for a long time.” The mention of Fitz perked her up. Fitz McCallum was one of the most sought-after producers in the industry, and the band had jumped at the opportunity to work with him. He had a reputation for turning everything he worked on into gold—even better, platinum.
“I’m glad we’re going to New York for this,” Augie said. “Haven’t seen the seasons change in a long time.”
Lauren cocked an eyebrow. “Fifty bucks say the first chilly day, you’ll turn into a whiny little—”
“Don’t hate me because I’m sensitive.” Augie started to laugh.
Lauren joined him, but the laugh faded to a sigh.
“You sure that’s all that’s bugging you?” he asked.
“Nothing’s bugging me.” Lauren shifted her weight away as if that would let her avoid the question. She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun—and so she didn’t have to make eye contact with Augie. Her thoughts churned.What if I’ve got no songs? What if the trades are right? What if I’ve lost my mojo?She felt the worry tighten around her chest, making it hard to take a breath.
She changed the subject; the last thing she wanted to do was keep talking about her writing.
“I’m not telling my mom I’m coming back to New York until I’m getting on the plane,” she said. She and Augie had grown up in the Bay Ridge area of Brooklyn.
Augie turned toward her, a sly smile on his face. “And you want me to not callmymom.”
“If you do, your mom will call my mom and all hell will break loose if she hears through the grapevine that I’m back.” Lauren watched her cousin weigh his options.
“What’s in it for me?”
“You blackmailing me?”
“That’s an ugly word, but call it what you want, sistah.” Augie leaned one elbow on the fence and watched her with a self-satisfied smile. Lauren considered giving him a kick in the shin, the same way she had when they were six.
“I’ll owe you—big time. I love my family…” She left the rest of her thought unfinished.
“No quality time with Jackie?”
Lauren gave Augie another look. Jackie was her older sister, and they were about as different as two siblings could be—more fire and gasoline than oil and water. Her younger sisters, Carolyn and Stephanie, were a different story. They adored Lauren and Lauren adored them back.
“I love Jackie, but she makes me mental,” Lauren said. “I want our plans set, and I want to have a place to staybeforethey know I’m coming.”
“Deal,” Augie said. “When we’re home, I might look a few people up. Indulge in some good, old-fashioned reminiscing about our misspent youth.”
