Going Deep

by Anne Calhoun

  She plucked another tissue from the box and handed it to Emily, who immediately twisted it around her finger. Her voice was small, when she spoke. “My portfolio is crap. I thought … it’s stupid … but I thought if I had your ideas, your bracelet, I’d make something amazing. That’s why I stole your things.”

  That made sense. That actually made a lot of sense. “It’s not stupid,” Cady said. “That’s why I wear the bracelet. When I didn’t have much faith in myself, I’d look at it and know I came from a line of smart, talented women who didn’t give up.”

  “I know. I’ve heard you talk about it for so long. It was the most meaningful thing in your creative process.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask if you could have it?”

  Emily wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to know I was scared. You seem so fearless now.”

  Cady recognized the fear, the shame that came with struggling to make something, wondering how the world would receive it, whether or not you had what it took to be successful. “I know how you feel, honey. Trust me, I know.” She worked the bracelet off her wrist and held it out to Emily. “It’s time to pass it on.”

  Emily started to cry again. “No. It’s yours. I don’t deserve it, after what I did.”

  “It’s not a question of deserving it. You’re a Ward. It’s all of ours. It belonged to Nana. She gave it to Mom after Dad left. Mom gave it to me when I moved out. Now I’m giving it to you. For courage.”

  Emily swiped the heel of her hand over her cheekbones and stared at Cady’s outstretched hand. Her watery eyes held a mixture of surprise, longing, hope. “Are you sure?”

  Cady didn’t move. “You’re one of us, Em. You’re a Ward. You come from strong women. You’ve got our blood in your veins. You can’t fail, because you can’t ever not be one of us.”

  Emily reached out and took the bracelet. “I feel bad, getting it like this.”

  “Don’t,” Cady said. “Mom practically threw it at me when she dropped me off at the bus station because I was going to need all the luck I could get. Now it’s a family tradition.”

  Emily gave a watery giggle. “I miss you. I’m scared when you’re not here.”

  She leaned forward and gripped Emily’s hand. “I know, honey. I miss you, too. All the time.”

  Tears rolled down Emily’s face. “It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to be hanging out with me, but you were with Conn, all the time. I could tell you didn’t want me at the sleepover. And I see all the pictures of you at the drag races when you’re not supposed to be outside, looking up at him, and he’s at sushi brunch, and picking out a tree with us … I hate that he’s around so much.”

  Cady’s eyes widened in shock. She’d known Emily wavered between pride and envy over Cady’s career, but complications from a man in her life never occurred to her. “Conn? You never minded my bodyguards before.”

  “Because they annoyed you. He doesn’t annoy you. You like him.” She cut Cady a teary glare.

  Cady grabbed her hair and coiled it to get it out of her face. “Emily, you’re not the only person who gets scared. The last few months have been so hard. I’ve felt so alone, so uncertain about whether to drop the album or ditch it for something that might bellyflop. Conn was there for me. Not because I’m Queen Maud and I could introduce him to someone who might give him an acting job. He was there for me. People hang around all the time when things are easy, but when they’re hard? Stressful? Uncertain? They fade away. Conn didn’t disappear.”

  She wouldn’t disappear for him. No matter what happened with the investigation, or with her album. He was hers.

  That’s what the song is about, being there for someone when things aren’t easy. The words and the melody and the bridge fell into place. She opened the notebook and scrabbled around in the mess of chip bags and soda cans and tissues on the coffee table for a pen.

  “What are you doing?” Emily asked, bewildered.

  “I need a pen.”

  Em dug in the sofa cushions and came up with one. “You know, if you kept everything online like a normal human being, I wouldn’t have been able to steal your notebook.”

  “Not funny, Em.” She was barely aware of what she was saying, just getting down the notes, fragments of lyrics, yes, that’s how the verse should turn, leading to the bridge. Yes. It all came back to her, what she’d lost when she couldn’t find her notebook, as well as the new material. As she scribbled, drawing arcs from thoughts, folding corners of months-old pages, gathering the song together, knowledge bloomed sure and certain in her soul. This was coming together because she’d fallen in love with Conn.

  When she sat back and blew out her breath, she felt weightless, as light as air, capable of soaring into the sky like a bunch of balloons. Her heart was pounding, exhilaration coursing through her veins. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  Emily watched her warily. “Did you get it?”

  “I got it.”

  “Even the stuff you forgot?”

  “Even that.” She skimmed through a couple of pages in her notebook, felt a couple more puzzle pieces slot into place. The block was gone. It was all there, waiting for her to open to it.

  “Good. I’m sorry.” Emily’s voice was small, her shoulders hunched inside the fleece sweatshirt. “I’m just really, really scared.”

  “Of what?”

  Em huffed, then reached for a tissue to blow her nose. “Of sending in something that sucks. Just the application is intimidating. What if they laugh at it? What if I get in and I’m the worst student they’ve ever had and everyone laughs at me?”

  “Sweetie, just do what you do. They’re not going to laugh at your application. I’m getting texts from all my friends asking how they can get one of your coats.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, because they’re fashion-savvy people who know when something’s going to go big. You should stop watching Buffy reruns you’ve seen a dozen times and start figuring out who you want wearing one of your coats next fall, when you’re in New York City, at Parsons.”

  “I’m afraid I’m always going to be in your shadow.” She sniffed again, but the worst of the crying seemed to have passed. “You even got the cool stage name. Maud.”

  “I’m not sure how much longer Maud will exist. Even if she sticks around, I’m just your sister.” Cady stroked her hair, gathering the strands away from Emily’s face. “I’m just mom’s daughter. That’s what being Cady means to me. Being Maud is great, but my family defines who I am, not stage names or hit counts or chart rankings. That hasn’t changed because I’m more famous than I was last year, and I hope it won’t change when the inevitable happens and people move on to another sound, another musician. Maybe you’ll be the famous one then.”

  “Ha.” Emily tossed the tissue on the floor and reached for another. “Like I’ll ever be more famous than you.”

  “You could be. If I don’t drop the label’s record, I could fade away into obscurity. I’ll be a thirty-second cut on some Where Are They Now? show, working at Ruby Tuesdays and singing on street corners again.”

  “That will never happen,” Emily said with the assurance of a teenage girl.

  “It could.” Cady spoke with the assurance of a woman who’d lain awake nights, worrying about it. “Em, everyone’s got me on the up-and-coming superstar pedestal right now. Please don’t put me up there, too. It’s a long way down when I fall, and I need somewhere soft to land.”

  Emily toyed with the bracelet. “You’re working on new material. I’m working on my application. We both need this right now.”

  “We can trade it back and forth. But I really think I’m going to be fine without it.”

  Emily’s face crumpled, and her chin quivered before collapsing into tears again. Cady sighed. “Stop crying. Put your Uggs on. We’re going back to the house for my guitar, and then we’re getting hot fudge sundaes at DQ. How about if I spend the night, and we can work on your application and my song?”

&nb
sp; Emily smiled. “Sounds great.”

  Cady sent her into the bathroom to wash her face. Emily sat quietly in the passenger seat during the drive, her phone in her hand as she stared out the window. Cady didn’t push things. It would take time to repair the damage she’d caused, but sisters were forever.

  The driveway was empty when they arrived, the sound of their car doors closing echoing in the garage. “Hello?” Cady called.

  She toed out of her boots in the mudroom, ears cocked for a response. The house was suspiciously quiet as she padded past the dining room table to the kitchen. The only light on was the stove light. “Conn?”

  “I don’t think he’s here,” Emily said.

  Cady peered into his bedroom. His duffle bag was gone from the floor, the bed neatly made, the drawers closed, the hangers in the closet pushed to the side.

  “There’s a note taped to your steamer,” Em yelled from the kitchen. She held it out to Cady as she approached.

  I took down the cameras. Sorry. Conn

  Cady’s jaw dropped open.

  “What cameras?” Emily said.

  “He installed security cameras. That’s how I knew it was you.”

  Emily’s brow wrinkled. “You said you didn’t want security cameras. That’s why we didn’t have the contractor install them when the house was being built.”

  “I know. Conn did it anyway.” Because it was the right thing to do. The safe thing to do. He would protect her from anything, even from her sister’s anger. And because he’d done that, she’d had her breakthrough. Of all the people around her saying they’d do whatever it took to support her creatively, Conn was the only one who did what had to be done. Even though he thought it would cost him her friendship. Her love.

  “He left?” Emily’s voice was small, her shoulders hunched as she tallied up the damage she’d caused. “Or did you send him away?”

  “Of course I didn’t send him away.” But Conn hadn’t waited around for her to kick him to the curb. He’d done what he’d been taught to do: move on when he made a mistake, angered someone, hurt their feelings. He’d gotten into the habit of living light, making it easy to leave before someone else could hurt him. “But I didn’t tell him to stay, either.”

  Remembering the way she’d slammed out of the house, she rubbed her forehead with regret. She knew how Conn felt about making mistakes with people he cared about. She should have taken the time to reassure him, but she’d been so blindingly angry with him, and with Emily, she’d just bolted for the Audi.

  “You should go after him,” Emily said. “I have to study anyway.”

  She looked at Emily. “I said I’d stay the night tonight, and I will.” But finals started on Monday, and then Cady would tell Connor McCormick exactly how she felt. She was her mother’s daughter. She didn’t give up what was hers, and Conn was hers, now and forever.

  * * *

  Late on Monday afternoon, Cady parked in a visitor spot in front of Conn’s apartment building, relieved to see the flicker of a television in his apartment. It wasn’t quite five o’clock yet, but already the skies were dark, a few stars twinkling through the light pollution. Conn wouldn’t leave lights on when he went out, so he must be home. Maybe he’d gotten a few days off after guarding Cady around the clock.

  Several of his neighbors were feeling festive, their little balconies sporting Christmas lights, a flashing Rudolph, even a small inflatable Santa, but Conn’s balcony was empty. Snow had drifted onto the lawn chair folded up against the railing, giving it a rather bereft look. But she knew how to fix that.

  She opened her door and popped the trunk, then hauled out a moving box. It wasn’t heavy, just awkward, so the climb to the third floor didn’t take long. A young couple clattered down the stairs, flashing her a smile as they passed her, but neither one recognized her. She was grateful for the anonymity as she made her way down the hall to Conn’s door and knocked.

  “Hi,” she said when the door opened. “I hope you don’t mind me coming by unannounced.”

  He was dressed in a soft gray T-shirt and faded jeans, looking even more like a granite mountain with bleak eyes. His feet were bare. Surprise, perhaps even hope flickered on his face before he schooled his expression to nod at the box. “I know I didn’t leave anything behind. What are you doing here?”

  This wasn’t going like she’d thought it would go, but she was tough. “Can I come in?”

  After a second he stepped to the side to make way for her. She walked in. The apartment had been cleaned since her last visit; there was room on the dinette set for the box. She set it down, pushed back her hood, and pulled off her gloves. The Monday night game was on the television, a pizza box and a beer on the coffee table. She perched on the arm of the sofa and glanced at the TV. “Who’s winning?”

  “Pittsburgh. What do you want, Cady?”

  “Two things,” she said. “First, I want to offer you a job.”

  He laughed. “A job. What kind of job?”

  “Chief of security.”

  “I’m not interested in being your kept man.”

  “You are seriously the most obtuse human being on the planet,” she said. “After the last couple of weeks, you think you’d be a kept man? Imagine doing all of that, plus my tour security. A different city, night after night, different venues, different publicity stops, different hotels. I need someone who can handle all of that so I don’t have to. It’s the most important thing someone can to do support me creatively. Kept man,” she muttered.

  “You want me to come work for you.”

  “Well. Not exactly. I want you to be with me forever, but that’s kind of a big, scary thing to lead with, and I figured you’d get bored in about four seconds without something productive to do, so I thought a job would sweeten the pot a little.”

  Conn stared at her, obviously flattened by this offer.

  “You want me with you forever.”

  “Yes.” Her heart was pounding as she gave a shrug far more casual than she actually felt.”I know it’s fast. I know it’s crazy. I know it means leaving Lancaster and the McCools, and your job. If it’s too much, I understand. But I’m asking, because I want you. Now. Forever.”

  “Even though I installed the cameras when you asked me not to. Even though I threw a hand grenade into your family and your relationship with your manager.”

  “I wish that hadn’t gone down the way it did. But blaming you for finding out what Emily and Chris were doing is just blaming the messenger. Emily is responsible for her actions, not you. So is Chris. And you were right to install the cameras.”

  His eyes widened ever so slightly. “I was.”

  “I was stuck,” she said. “I couldn’t figure out how to move forward, whether or not to drop the pop album. I kept avoiding the things I knew would hurt but help, so things kept happening to me. I was angry with you when I saw the cameras and the footage, but when I settled down, I remembered that whether I make the right decision or the wrong one, I’m happiest when I’m in control of my life and my career. The cameras gave me that control.”

  Something odd happened to his eyes. Cady realized they’d filled with hope. “You’re not mad at me,” he said.

  “Maybe a little.” She smiled at him. “I try to be reasonable. Mostly I’m putting it behind me, because I’m writing again, thanks to you. Two new songs in the last couple of days. It’s hard to think straight with Emily bursting in every five minutes to show me a new sketch, but they’re coming.” She decided not to tell him she’d written about him. About them.

  “Are you staying at your mom’s now?”

  “I was, while Emily and I worked out some things. I’m on my way home now. Em and Mom are coming over on Sunday to decorate the tree and make cookies. Emily still needs me, but I need my own space,” she said. “For my own life. With the man I love. I hope.”

  At the word “love,” his face went utterly still. Then he shook his head, a hard, firm rejection. “No. Not a good idea. Families and
me don’t work so well together. Look what just happened—”

  She cut him off, words tumbling from her mouth, her voice rising. “Yes, look at what just happened. My sister acted out, my mom didn’t see it, and neither did I,” she said. “We all made mistakes there, but not you. We’ll forgive her, because she was just a kid, trying to figure out how to be an adult. That’s what your family didn’t do. They pushed you away, blamed you for their failures and your honest mistakes, taught you to take things away from yourself, to not let yourself have the things you want. I’m not pushing you away. You can have me, Conn. All you have to do is let me in.”

  “Cady—” he started.

  “No, listen to me. I really want you to come with me. I want you by my side all the time. It’s immature—I mean, I’m perfectly able to be on my own but I don’t want to be—and … and it’s a shitty, shitty life on a big bus, staying in hotels, which is not all it’s cracked up to be, let me tell you. Promo appearances, sound checks, concerts, I’ve got no time to myself when I’m on tour. Days off are rare, scheduled weeks in advance, and I spend most of them sleeping. I’m asking you to—”

  “Yes.”

  “—give up everything you know, leave the McCools … what?”

  He crossed the room to stand in front of her, close enough that she could see his pulse thumping away in his neck, the quick inhales and exhales, the way his eyes darkened. He raised his hand to her cheek and stroked his thumb along the curve of her ear, then bent his head and kissed her. “Yes, I’ll be your body man.”

  “Okay. Good,” she said, a little disoriented. He kissed her again, hot and fierce and sweet. Her brain shut down, all systems offline, leaving only the flashing light that said, Yes, this, this is what you were looking for and didn’t know you wanted. Him. This man. Forever.