“It’s fine,” I grit out. “Come over after the concert.”
“Promise. And Connor?” she adds. “I’m glad you’re finally letting me help you out. No offense, but you were acting like an ungrateful twat before.”
She ends the call, and I stare out of the windshield, the edginess creeping along my nerves until my skin pricks.
Ever since I made the decision to take control of my life, it’s been important to me that I’ve kept it. Kept control of situations at work. In everything. Right now, I need to get control of this situation, to put this Cruz thing to rest.
All I need is ten minutes of Elle’s time, max. Alysa’s Empyre is playing at The House of Blues. I can be there in less time than that.
9
Alex
Elle seriously needs to chill. My hand that’s applying lip gloss jerks as my phone goes off again, and I roll my eyes. Ever since I called Elle up and told her we had VIP seating for the show, she’s been freaking out. I know that Alysa Trane is her idol, but still. I don’t know if I can deal with her all night if she doesn’t calm the hell down.
I ignore the latest call and dab on a little more lip gloss. Elle can wait. It’ll be good for her.
“How do I look?” Mom’s voice sounds from the bathroom door of my suite.
Mom is wearing a gold shimmery top that looks utterly fab with her hair, black leather pants, and three-inch black heels. Her hair is up in a soft-looking classic French braid.
“Wow,” I say with genuine admiration. “You look hot, Mom. Twenty-something boys, beware.”
She laughs, the sound producing a happy echo in my bathroom. “Oh dear. I’m not one of those so-called cougars, am I?”
“Definitely not! Not unless you’re going out and prowling the clubs for boys when Dad’s busy. And if you are, I don’t want to know about it.”
“Who’s prowling the clubs? Is this you, Grace?” Dad suddenly appears in the doorway. I didn’t hear him come in, and from the sound of Mom’s gasp, she’s as surprised as I am.
“James,” she scolds. “Are you eavesdropping on us girls?” Her voice has a slightly sharp edge to it when she adds, “Better me prowling for boys than Alexis.”
I almost choke. “Um, yeah. You don’t have to worry about me doing that.”
“Good,” Dad says, but he’s facing my Mom with a closed expression, not even a trace of a smile left on his face. “I was only joking, Grace.”
“And I wasn’t?” Mom’s brow draws together in a frown, and she comes to the mirror to stand by me like she needs an ally.
Never a good idea to take sides in parental squabbles, no matter how minor. I press my lips together to keep from saying anything, though my gut instinct is to side with Dad on this one. You know, since he’s the one treating us to this night out in the first place. But I do my best to ignore it. They’re always trying to get little jabs in at each other. They’ve always been like this.
Actually, that’s not totally true. They used to be a lot worse. Their marriage was way more full of ups and downs when I was younger, and I remember the panic and devastation I felt when they almost got divorced. I was eleven, and Dad moved out into an apartment for about a month while Mom wandered around the house like a zombie and left me to fend for myself for most meals and to make sure I got to school every day (I didn’t always). They eventually worked it out – somehow – and Dad moved back in.
Things got a little better when we started coming out to Vegas every summer, but they still get into little spats like this all of the time. I’m pretty convinced by how they act with each other that they can’t ever totally escape the past. I don’t think anyone can.
I hear Dad’s retreat and the sound of Mom’s shoes clicking on the marble floor as she steps away, and I know she’s examining me. I brace myself for the commentary. I’m wearing a simple black off-the shoulder t-shirt that I like because it makes the red of my hair pop and a skirt that’s probably too short.
“Would you like me to fix your hair before we go? It will take just a minute,” she says.
Oh, that. My hair is swept up in an updo that I did myself. It probably won’t last the night. “Sure. Thanks.”
I sit down on the little stool in front of the mirror, and she stands behind me and goes to work. Her fingers are like magic, and I close my eyes as they weave through my hair.
Against my better judgment, I say, “You could have been a little nicer to Dad a second ago. He was just trying to have fun.”
Her fingers stop moving for a second, but I don’t wish I could retract the words. Even though I usually try not to take sides, I mean what I say. It might be the memory of having so much fun with Dad this afternoon and wishful thinking that she and my dad could be like that too. While they sometimes show outward affection to each other, I can’t remember the last time I saw them laugh together.
Her hands start flying through my hair again, gently pulling on this piece, tucking in that piece.
“I looked up some of Alysa’s Empyre’s songs this afternoon when you were out…” She pauses as if giving me the chance to tell her where I was, but I don’t. “I love the voice of the lead singer. She has so much emotion, and I adore the lyrics.”
My shoulders relax, and I don’t realize how tense I just was until they do. Her statement is a little funny to me because a lot of Alysa Trane’s lyrics are pretty explicit. But I also recognize that Mom going out of her way to listen to the band ahead of time is her way of trying to connect with me.
“Yeah, she does,” I say. I reach up and back over my shoulder to her, and she squeezes my hand after pinning one last strand into place.
“All done.”
Mom had swept back most of my hair into a deliberately messy but secure updo with a few stray tendrils touching my cheek. I look transformed, not like my usual self. Older, more sophisticated. Pretty damned hot, if I do say so myself.
“Thanks, Mom.” I stand and give her a hug as my phone goes off again from the counter. I peek over at it this time and smirk.
“Elle’s downstairs. We should get going.”
She hugs me back, but then leans away from me. Her eyes are misty, and I stare back at her in surprise.
“Alexis, you know that the way your father and I bicker all of the time, it’s normal. That’s just how some couples communicate. We really do love each other.”
She’s still dwelling on my comment, and I feel a little bit bad that I made her go on the defensive like that. I suppose I know that they do love each other, and I guess the bickering might be normal for some people. But I don’t care about what other couples do. All I know is that neither of my parents communicate with me that way.
I also know that when it comes to me and whoever I wind up with someday – in the far, far, indiscernible future – it won’t be that way with us.
We’re just in the limo, but Elle is so hyped up that she might as well sign up to be the opening act. She takes a seat across from me and my mom, dressed up by her standards in a long tattered black skirt, prized Alysa’s Empyre tank top, combat boots, and an armful of random black bracelets.
“Dude. I love you. I want one of these cars someday, like for general use.” She beams at me then turns to my mom. “I mean, I love all of you. Alex, could I come up and visit you in your digs soon and personally tacklehug your dad?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Right, because that would not make him feel uncomfortable at all.”
“Grace, I can’t tell you how utterly gorgeous you look tonight. Especially in that top.” Elle nods, her spiky hair bobbing up and down. “Oh my God, but I don’t mean that in a creepy stalker way like I’m staring at your boobs or anything. This is going to be one epic night, you know? Did you know that Alysa Trane is my ultimate inspiration? Her voice is so smooth but also totally edgy, which is what I would love to pull off with my own voice. Oh! Not that I can even compare…”
I grin at her ramblings. Elle is very funny to listen to when she’s excited. Or
I wonder if Elle’s nerves are going haywire because my mom is here with us, though Mom is being a good sport, nodding and smiling gently at her. She confided in me once that she thought Elle was “spunky.”
“Yes, Alexis has told me that you are quite the singer yourself,” she says. “How often do you perform?”
Mom sits forward, her hands clasped around her knee, and I see a brightness in her expression. I wonder if she’ll bring up the little-known fact that she used to sing in clubs.
Elle shrugs, shooting me a quick, narrow-eyed look that screams, oh no, you didn’t. “Not much these days. It’s hard to fit it in with a job and now I’m doing an internship and taking classes at UNLV.”
“I’m glad you’re going to the university, but don’t give up on what you love,” Mom says, her tone firmer, and I immediately recognize her “mothering” voice. While she rarely uses it with me anymore, she sometimes still drags it out for my friends. Not mortifying at all. “You have a gift, and it’s for a reason.”
“Yeah? You think so? I guess so.” Elle shrugs one shoulder again, but I can tell that she’s eating up the encouragement. Elle hardly talks about her family, just that she grew up in Albuquerque and that she goes home every Christmas. But that’s it. I get the distinct impression that her parents aren’t super supportive of her musical talents.
“Yeah, Elle,” I chime in helpfully. “You never know who’s going to be in the crowd watching. Some big music producer could stop by when you’re doing your thing.”
Elle coughs a laugh. “Right. On the nights they used to let me sing at the QE2, I knew exactly who was in the crowd. The staff and a couple of local alcos who had nowhere else to go.”
“You never know,” Mom repeats. She tugs on a strand of her hair as she looks out the window at the Strip, and I wonder what happened to make her give up singing.
The limo comes to a stop in front of the casino, and Elle makes a noise that sounds like a mouse getting caught in a trap. The driver opens the door for us a few seconds later, all smiles as we pile out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Alysa’s Empyre fans are swarming all around us, and an excited current charges through me.
“Compliments of the hotel, Mrs. Lin. Enjoy the show.”
I look over at the driver, and he’s handing a laminated card on a lanyard to my mom.
“What’s that?” I peek over her shoulder as she takes it. “No freaking way! An all-access pass?”
Elle emits another high-pitched shriek before clapping a hand over her mouth. She looks around like she’s afraid of making a scene, which is funny, because she’s so obviously freaking out.
“Here. I guess you get to rub shoulders with rock stars tonight,” Mom says, handing it to Elle with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh,” she gasps. “I couldn’t. No, you or Alex should take it.”
“No,” Mom and I say simultaneously. I grin at Elle. “Alysa Trane is your idol. You should go and see if you can meet her in person.”
“I love you guys.” Elle waves her hands in front of her like a set of hummingbird wings. “I swear, I’m not crying.”
“We love you, too.” I poke her in the ribs, and she loops the pass around her neck and sniffs. She’ll be in crazy company when she goes backstage, though I’m sure she’ll love it. Originally being from Vegas means that every sort of fan comes out of the woodwork whenever the band plays here.
We walk into the casino linked arm in arm. The buzz of energy filling the entryway is almost palpable as we join the hordes of Alysa’s Empyre fans racing through the front door. Some of them are wearing fan gear like Elle. Others made themselves into lookalikes of the lead singer Alysa Trane, with bleach-blonde pixie haircuts and black knee-high platform boots. We make a wide circle around the perimeter of the gaming area to get to the venue, Elle making commentary on all of the Alysa clones along the way. But I notice she keeps glancing at her phone. Don’t know if she’s expecting a call or if someone’s texting her, but if she is getting texts, she’s not actually taking the time to read them.
I duck my head down to her level and whisper, “Dude, everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She wets her lips like she suddenly realized they were dry, even though they aren’t. “Some minor cousin drama. Sorry.”
No clue why she’s apologizing. And I still have no memory of this cousin she supposedly introduced to me at the club.
“Oh.” I keep my voice low so Mom won’t hear. “The same cousin I met last night? Is it bad of me that I don’t remember this person?”
Elle’s eyes widen. “How much of last night did you forget?”
I frown down at her. “Not everything. And shush,” I whisper, although Mom doesn’t look like she’s eavesdropping. The background noise of the casino is loud, the noise from the people flocking to the entrance of the venue even louder. “Why? Did I do something totally stupid to embarrass myself in front of her?”
I don’t dare say the rest of what’s running through my head. That nothing could possibly be worse than getting roofied.
She coughs, but it sounds more like she’s trying not to laugh. “No, no worries…” But then she trails off, her expression flooding with worry. “Holy shit. Look at the line. It’s longer than the one for Thunder from Down Under on cougar night.”
I snap my head up and follow her line of sight. “Whatever,” I laugh, hoping Mom didn’t hear that last part and think I told Elle about the cougar joke. “The line’s not that bad.”
Unlike her, I’m not surprised to see the massive crowd waiting to get into the House of Blues. It snakes around the rows of velvet ropes that lead to security before stringing out almost as far as the sign pointing to the buffet. Full of hardcore fans like me and Elle.
“We don’t have to wait in that line,” Mom says from the other side of me. “We get to go over to that one.” She points with her pinky finger to a cordoned-off area that only has two people standing in it. VIPs only.
We don’t have much of a wait at the box office, and Elle and I hang back as Mom gets our tickets. After giving the person behind the counter her name and showing her ID, she turns to us and hands me the envelope.
“Four tickets?” I look up from the envelope and at Mom in confusion. Dad could have come with us after all. If he’d wanted to.
“Oh, the man said there are two tables reserved for us. Two chairs per table,” she explains. “Right on the end of the balcony. Your father got us some of the best seats in the house.”
Elle’s expression brightens, but then her eyes narrow as she focuses on something through the crowd. Her face darkens like a storm cloud. “Shit,” she mumbles. “My cousin.”
I crane my head around to see who she’s looking at, and Elle steps away from us and waves her tiny hand in the air.
“Connor!”
I feel like I’m encased in cement as my brain wrestles with that name. Connor? The same Connor is Elle’s cousin? The guy who was staring at me in the high roller room. Oh, man. I must have missed the introduction last night somewhere between all of the laced drinks and vomit.
“Hey. Glad I found you in this mess…”
The sound of that resonant voice sends a warm shiver through me, and I slowly turn to look at the man with dark hair and intensely blue eyes. This is becoming ridiculous, the numbers of times that we keep running into each other. But this time, he doesn’t even look at me before he takes Elle’s arm and walks away with her in tow, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s with other people.
“I’ll be right back, Mom,” I say quickly. “I need to make sure Elle gets her ticket.”
She nods in understanding, and I give chase. I weave my way through the poker machines, scanning the crowd. Crap. I can’t see them anywhere. Connor had been moving so fast in his hurry to get away, or to get Elle away. Seriously, who does that? But it’s a good thing he dwarfs Elle by about a foot because I finally spot his head of tousled hair over the crowd. I duck through a row of slot machines to intercept them, almos
t bumping into a middle-aged woman who’s getting up from the machine on the end.
“Sorry!” I toss over my shoulder, and I keep running.
Elle looks like she’s digging in her heels to slow Connor down. It doesn’t look like it’s doing her much good.
“Elle! Your ticket!”
She whips her head around and sees me. A determined look settles on her face as she shoves Connor in the side, and he lets go of her as she wrestles herself the rest of the way free. She stumbles forward, gratitude in her expression, and I stand like a statue as she throws herself at me.
And Connor… He stops and turns at the sound of my voice, his gaze connecting with mine. Recognition flashes in those electric blue eyes as they linger on my face, and I feel a warmth slowly radiate out from my core to the surface of my skin. I might be imagining it, but for some reason, he doesn’t look as surprised to see me as I am to see him.
“Oh, thank God,” Elle says. She snatches her ticket out of my hand and steps back, clutching it to her breast with all of the appropriate drama. “Okay, so yeah. You go ahead without me, and I’ll catch up with you and your mom inside.” She rolls her eyes back at where Connor’s standing and mutters, “The cousin drama I mentioned.”
The source of drama is still staring at me, like he did earlier today. My God, those eyes of his. The rest of him is standing stiffly, shoulders rigid and arms tense, but there’s something almost fluid about his eyes. Like they’re shifting through a whole mess of emotions and unable to settle on one.
What the heck are you doing, staring at the guy? Elle has her ticket. Walk away.
“Everything all right, Alexis? Elle?” My mom appears at my side. She doesn’t disguise her pointed look at Connor, and I half-cringe and half-laugh inwardly as I realize that Mama Bear mode has gone into effect.
Losing Enough Page 8
