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I frantically push the elevator’s lobby button. An emergency in the middle of the night is unfortunately common when it comes to Luna, so I do my best to keep calm. For some reason, no matter how much trouble she gets in, I go to battle for her instantly every single time. As soon as the doors open, I see Luna with hotel security. She’s in a short red dress and tennis shoes. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she must have five bags slung around her, and a suitcase is by her feet. How did she know I was here? I wonder where the hell she’s been these last few months since I saw her last.
I clench my jaw in familiar agitation.
“Told you,” she spouts to the nice woman behind the desk. Damn it, Luna.
I give the clerk a sympathetic look.
“Ms. Walker, we didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“No need. Please,” I reply to the panic stricken, hotel manager. She smiles kindly, and I mentally tell myself to leave her large tip. The last thing we need is more drama in the tabloids, and financial incentives go a long way in the hospitality industry to keep people from going to the press with your late-night dirty laundry.
Luna is America’s bad girl. After leaving Wildflower, her sound turned country, and her behavior went buck wild. Just a few years apart, we look like twins, except she has black hair and is six years older.
Suddenly, without a tear in sight, my sister stomps over to the elevator and stares at me until I follow.
“Thanks, guys.” I wave an apology at security, then I join her.
The ride up is quiet. Luna helps herself to a shower and my clothes without a word of explanation, and for the first time, I handle it differently. I leave her alone. Instead of barging in and demanding she tell me where she’s been and what she’s been doing, I give up. After five years, I know she’s going to go do whatever the hell she wants with no shits about my concern. So I’ll do my best to give her space, and hopefully I won’t worry so damn much.
I pick up her purse from the floor and put it on the dresser. Then I wheel her suitcase over and start tucking her extra bags into the drawers, when the large case falls. Her big, black-leather bag spills out, so I lean down to get it. After everything is tucked away and my sister is still singing in the shower, I move to turn off the light. Before hitting the switch, a sparkle from the floor catches my eye. Kneeling to pick it up, I see it’s a black card with gold foil writing.
KNK.
On the back is a website.
I hear the water turn off, and feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, I run to bed, tucking away the card. My mind whirls with possibilities. What will I find if I logged on? My curiosity is piqued, and if I was still close with my sister, I would ask her about it, but sadly, I don’t think she would tell me the truth. And I have to know.
Tomorrow, I’ll do some investigating, and maybe then, I can talk to her about what the hell she’s been doing lately. I care about her, and ever since the band broke up, she’s been shady with me. She lies and gaslights me whenever I call her out.
Luna slides into bed beside me turns off the lamp.
“Thank you for coming down to get me.”
“Why didn’t you just get a room?”
“I lost my credit card,” she tells me, but she won’t look at me.
It’s dark, but we’re face-to-face on the big mattress. I can make out her face because of the faint bathroom light, and I can tell she’s lying.
“Where do you think it could be?”
“No fuckin clue. I tore this city up this weekend.” She laughs, but my heart hurts. For someone so famous, the world waiting to pay her just for appearances, she’s going to ask me for money instead.
“Sounds fun. How long do you get to stay?”
“Forever. I’m done with Hollywood.”
“What!” I sit up confused. “You quit?”
“Yes, calm down.” Even in the dark, I see her eyes roll. “Are you really that surprised? My last album consisted of a dozen songs about the evil music industry. What the hell am I gonna follow that with. Better yet, who the fuck would work with me after it tanked.”
Her voice goes quiet until there’s just silence. I don’t know what to say to that. I had no idea she was retiring. Now, I’m even more nervous for her future. I can’t help it. Even though she’s my big sister, she’s always been the crazy one, forcing me to be the responsible one and in being so, the mother hen who worries too much.
I want to ask a million questions, but with her current mood I’m sure I’ll be met with more sarcasm, or worse, she’ll get defensive and push me out when she needs me the most.
After a while I hear her snoring lightly. The kid in me wants to snicker at my sister, nut the grownup in me is overwhelmed and wants to escape the pressure. My job, my sister, my friends, my fans, my songs. Everything weighs so much I struggle to find sleep.
If I were alone I would grab my vibrator and watch a little late night hub, but since that would be weird as fuck, I roll over and settle for my imagination.
