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I froze in my seat, clutched by unreasonable panic. Finn and Petra? He hadn’t said anything except Petra is nice. Had I missed something?
“I just got out of a relationship,” Petra said, her tone implying that they’d had this conversation more than once already. “Besides, Finn doesn’t see me that way.”
“He’d see you that way if he saw you naked,” Hayley said. She lifted her arms at the urge of the seamstress. Her expression was calm, as if she too found this conversation familiar. “Get out of your shell. Make some moves on him. Dazzle him. Find a way to at least show him your tits.”
“Goodness,” Mom said.
“Your ex is an asshole,” Melanie said to Petra. “Dating a celebrity is the best revenge.”
Petra sunk lower in her seat. I could tell she hated this conversation. “I’m not getting into another relationship,” she said.
“Then hook up with him, Pet,” Hayley said patiently. “Use him as a rebound. He’s hot, and he’s right there.”
I was starting to get annoyed. Finn wasn’t some piece of meat to be carved up. Also, Petra was uncomfortable. I took another look at her slouching posture and decided to rescue her. “What am I, a ghost?” I said flippantly. “Maybe I’ll jump his bones.”
The reaction in the room was telling. Petra’s posture eased. Hayley made a sound that was exactly like a scoff. Like the idea of me and Finn was funny.
And Vicki…Vicki looked both horrified and dismayed. Like me assaulting Alistair’s brother was her worst nightmare, the most humiliating thing she could think of. And the fact that I’d suggested it—crass, punk Jules, doing her embarrassing shit yet again—was a disappointment.
I’m not like that, I wanted to shout at her. Except I was. Finn had been in my bed last night, his weight on me, his fingers doing magical things that sent me into another dimension. He’d showed up without my asking or inviting him, but that didn’t matter, because I hadn’t kicked him out. The look on my sister’s face said that I should have.
And I wasn’t fucking sorry.
“Josie, you’re single,” Hayley said to Mom, because she had already dismissed the idea of me and Finn as ridiculous. “Why don’t you get yourself a younger man?”
“Goodness,” Mom said again.
“Josie, are we scandalizing you?” Hayley asked, amused.
“I think Finn is sweet,” Mom said, tugging at Hayley’s hem and turning toward the shoe boxes to find Hayley’s heels. “He deserves to find someone nice after all he’s been through. He’s handsome, sure, but he’s far too young for me, and you know it. He’s not my type.”
Hayley’s eyes went wide. “Wait. What is your type?”
“Help.” Vicki put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “I want to know Mom’s type.”
“Stop it.” Mom waved me off, blushing. Holy shit, Mom had a type. What was it? She hadn’t dated while we were growing up. She always said that after Dad left, her only priority was raising us girls. She must have dated someone, sometime, but she’d kept quiet about it in front of us.
I looked at Vicki, but she had shut her eyes, miming that she didn’t want to know. I racked my memory for any men Mom could have been sneaking around with. A neighbor? A coworker? Was she going to bars? Oh, Jesus—was Mom on the apps?
“Changing the subject,” Melanie said. She turned to me. “I’ve been dying to ask. What is Denver Gilchrist like in person?”
Jesus, these women were man-crazy. It felt like high school.
“Denver is my coworker,” I said firmly. “He has a girlfriend.” I didn’t want my family thinking me more of a slut than they already did, and I wasn’t here to dish dirt about the Road Kings, even if I had any. Besides, it was the truth. Denver’s girlfriend, Callie, was a pianist. She was quiet, introverted, and talented, and Denver adored her beyond all reason. If he was aware that any other women existed, he gave no sign of it.
“Okay, so you’re not fooling around with him,” Melanie said. “Got it. But what’s he like?”
I shook my head. Being starstruck wasn’t my style, and I’d spent dozens of hours with Denver by now. With all of the band. Denver was sexy and he was an incredible vocalist. He had been prolific lately, writing one song after another. He was also moody, distracted, and usually lost somewhere in his own head. He was a picky eater and he liked silly jokes. One day he’d be in a dark mood that only Callie could pull him out of, and the next he’d be sweet again. He napped in the songwriting room sometimes, one arm flung over his eyes. He had no blood family, and he loved his bandmates like brothers.
“He’s just a guy,” I said, unable to put all of that into words. “They all are. They’re the best band I’ve ever played with. They work hard, but they’re also fun.”
“Are there groupies?” Melanie asked, and for a second that question shocked me. The idea of groupies was so far from what the Road Kings were about. “No,” I replied. “No groupies, no drugs. Just music. We’ve been deep in rehearsals, and we just played our first gig. It went well. We lined up some nights at the Paramount.”
“You’re playing the Paramount?” Petra asked. “That’s so cool.”
Everyone was looking at me. Mom and Vicki were listening, which was weird. Mom and Vicki never asked about my music, never listened to what I had to say about it. At least, they hadn’t years ago, when I’d given up trying.
