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“Ah, just channel your inner Stevie. Pretend you’re singing to Lindsay tonight right after he bad mouthed you around town. You’re a big girl, you’ll be fine.” Gemma’s voice softened. “You’ve dealt with worse than this.”
Their eyes met and Cassie nodded. “You’re right. I’m building this into something it doesn’t need to be.”
“Exactly.” Gemma nodded. “Now go sing your heart out. Don’t let a little kiss ruin a good thing.”
The crack of thunder was loud enough to make the whole studio shake. They were packing up – thank God, and Marley looked over at Pres, his eyebrow raised.
“Already secured the site,” he told his brother, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He’d checked the forecast before he’d left the house and had seen that there was going to be rain over night. He’d covered everything up and made sure the part of the roof they were working on was watertight.
Sure, the rain had started earlier than predicted, but all was good.
Marley nodded, looking relieved.
“I hate it when you do that,” Alex muttered. He was putting his guitar into its case. An unlit cigarette already between his lips.
“Do what?” Marley frowned.
Alex looked up. “Have those conversations in your heads. It’s weird.”
“We don’t have conversations in our heads. I just talked out loud to him,” Pres pointed out.
“Yeah, but he didn’t say anything to you.”
There was another loud clash of thunder, and from the corner of his eye he saw Cassie jump. She wasn’t looking at him. She hadn’t looked at him all night, apart from when he’d asked her a direct question.
He couldn’t blame her. He’d been a douche the other night. And he hadn’t apologized to her, even though he should.
Another mess he’d gotten himself into. And one he’d need to sort out if he didn’t want to ruin the band and let his brother down.
“Damn, I love a storm. Dad used to tell us it was God playing the drums,” Marley said, hitting his stick on the skin of the snare. From the corner of his eye, Pres saw Cassie flinch again.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I need a smoke.” Alex lifted his guitar case. Cassie was looking at her phone. She’d been quiet all night, apart from when they were singing. Their voices were working perfectly together now. They’d learned each other's tempos and breathing, when to go high and when to go low.
They left the studio and Pres flicked the lights off, locking the door behind him. When they reached the lobby, the rain was pelting the glass door, running down in rivulets to the ground.
“Shit,” Cassie said under her breath.
“I’m gonna make a run for it,” Marley said. “Meeting somebody at the bar.” He winked at Cassie and lifted a hand at Alex and Pres before he pushed through the door and ran into the rain.
“You think your dad would be okay if I left my guitar here?” Alex asked, pulling his lighter out of his pocket.
“Sure. I’ll lock it up in the studio.” Pres took the case off him, and carried it back, unlocking the door and placing the guitar gently on the floor. He’d tell his dad it was Alex’s before he went home.
When he got back to the lobby, Alex had already left, though the air still held the stale smell of cigarettes. But Cassie was still there. Still looking at her phone.
“Everything okay?” he asked her.
She looked up, surprised. “Um, yeah. I just…” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think I’m going to wait here until the rain eases. It wasn’t supposed to start until later.”
He walked over to the glass doors, looking out at the metal gray sky. “It looks like it’s here to stay,” he said. “The weather gets like this sometimes. Mostly warm, but when it rains, it pours.”
She nodded. “I can wait.”
He lifted a brow. “I need to lock up.” And he didn’t want to leave her here alone. It felt weird. And wrong. “And I need to get home to Delilah.”
Cassie blinked. “Oh yes. Of course. Sorry. I’ll wait in the car.”
He didn’t get it. “Wait for what?”
