Amber

  “It is complicated,” he says, sounding very tired. “Are you going or not?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, feeling more exhausted now than before. “I don’t know why I should.”

  “Neither do I.”

  We stare at each other, a challenge in the air. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”

  He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It matters what the band wants, and it matters what Lister wants.”

  “You don’t want to be there either, do you? At the event, I mean.”

  He shakes his head very slowly. “No, I do not. I don’t like being a monkey who has to dance on command, being told one minute I should do one thing and the next that I need to do the opposite, but right now, that’s where I’m at.”

  I don’t need to know exactly what he’s talking about to understand the sentiment or the concept. “I don’t like that either. I don’t blame you for being upset about it. Why don’t you just quit and walk away?”

  “Would you walk away from the one thing you’ve wanted your entire life? Even if it meant paying dues and sucking it up when things got tough or unpleasant?”

  His words make my heart feel sick. “I don’t know. I guess I never wanted anything that bad.” I walked away from the one thing I ever wanted—a life off the farm—and up until this very moment I never seriously questioned whether that was the right thing to do or not. I convinced myself it was the best thing for everyone concerned, and my family was so happy with my choice. But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do. Maybe I should have fought harder for myself instead of settling for what was right for the family.

  “Maybe one day you will want something that bad, and then you’ll know what I’m up against.”

  I know there’s a darker side to fame. Our mothers talked about it a lot when we were growing up, but we always assumed they were talking in a generic sense and not speaking from experience. So many things they said about selling one’s soul to the devil are floating in my mind. Did Ty do this? Did he trade fortune and fame for his soul?

  I’m more convinced than ever that turning down these inheritances or whatever they are is the right thing to do. Just being in the room with someone who’s only remotely involved in the whole scenario—a band member, no less—has me questioning my decisions about my life path. My life and my sisters’ lives are perfect exactly the way they are, and the evidence to back that up is sitting right in front of me. Here’s a man who got his dream job with the band and he couldn’t be more miserable about it. I made the right decision to go back home and settle down there, to walk away from something I considered “bigger.” The only thing I’m missing out on is pain.

  Pity softens my heart. Ty and I really aren’t that different. We’re both frustrated with the band, and we both want something from these men of Red Hot. Of course, he wants to live in peace with them and I want to tell them to get bent, but still . . . it’s a common interest. What would be the harm in spending a little more time together until the band is available to meet with me?

  “How about this . . . , ” I say, a germ of an idea taking root. “How about if we both go to the event together, two monkeys in somebody else’s zoo. Maybe it won’t be so bad if you’re not the only chimp in the room.” This way I’ll also have something to tell my sisters besides the fact that I got a stomachache from eating processed meat and had to sleep it off.

  His jaw twitches and his lips press together. He rubs the palm of his hand with his opposite thumb. Then he picks at his nails. “Maybe that could be cool.”

  “I promise I will leave my Mace in my room.”

  He starts to grin but still doesn’t look at me. “It’s a relief to know I’m not going to be sprayed with a can of water.”

  I huff out a sigh. “Rude.” All that time I thought I was being a badass and he was laughing at me.

  “What’s so rude about that?” He’s finally looking at me again.

  “You could’ve just played along.”

  “I’m not really good at playing along.”

  “Neither am I.” I feel an inexplicably strong connection to Ty right now. He’s sitting there looking tragic and messed up, the exact model of a man my mothers have been warning me against all my life—apparently in an effort to stop another generation from making the same mistakes they did—and yet I could no more deny him than I could say yes to another hot dog. The last thing I want to do tonight is sit in this hotel room and fret over my meeting with the band tomorrow morning. I could use a distraction.

  “Good.” He stands. “I’ll pick you up at six. Make sure you have your ID with you.”

  “All I have is a passport. Is that okay?”

  “Yep. Perfect.”

  “Okay.” I stand up too, suddenly feeling energized again. Nap? Who needs a nap?

  He starts heading out of the room but hesitates at the door, looking over his shoulder at me. “It’s kind of a formal thing.” He looks me up and down.

  I look down at my skirt and blouse. “So, what you’re saying is . . . my current outfit isn’t going to cut it?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “It’s fine with me, but I have a feeling you’ll be more comfortable if you upgrade a little bit.”

  “And by upgrade, you mean sell out?”

  He nods and lifts his hand, shooting me with an imaginary finger-gun as he winks. “You got it, sister.”

  “Are you going to upgrade?” As the door is swinging shut behind him, I hear his answer faintly.

  “We’ll see.”

  I run to the hotel room telephone and pick it up, hitting zero. When the person answers I blabber into the phone, speaking so quickly I hardly understand myself. “I need to talk to James right away. In your concierge department.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I am so glad I went to James with my problem. He knows everything about this city and its shopping situation. Now that I know I can get pizza by the slice for a dollar and that I’m going to an event tonight that probably will have food, plus the breakfast tomorrow that will probably be paid for by the band, I know how much I can afford to spend on clothing.

  I soon learn, however, that all the stores I might have gone to without James’ guidance would’ve only afforded me a pair of socks on my shoestring budget. But thanks to the concierge of all concierges, I’m learning everything I need to know about thrift stores—which ones have the best stock, when they get shipments in, and who has the best deals. I’ve also had a full training session from a friendly stranger on how to navigate the complicated subway system. I have visited three stores, located all over the city and in Brooklyn, and I now have a complete outfit that does look pretty damn hot if I do say so myself.

  I’m back at the hotel room by five o’clock. While I was out kicking ass all over town, the other concierges were busy in the hotel being miracle workers. They not only located a curling iron for my hair, but they also managed to find someone to press my dress and buff the scuffs out of the used shoes that I bought. For the first time in my life, I am going to be wearing stilettos. I hope I don’t fall down a flight of stairs and kill myself.

  I’m just putting the finishing touches on my hairdo, letting a few pieces of curled hair frame the sides of my face while the rest of it sits in a messy bun atop my head with chopsticks holding it in place, when there’s a knock at the door. I make sure there are no deodorant stains on my deep-green, sparkling gown and practice walking in front of the mirror a few times with my heels before I answer it. I don’t bother with the peephole; I just grab the handle and pull it open.

  He’s there and I’m struck speechless. This is a big deal for me because I’m rarely at a loss for words. Heaven is here on my doorstep. I think the man standing before me is Tyler Stanz, lead guitarist for Red Hot, but I can’t be sure because he’s wearing a suit coat and a tie; and even though the tie isn’t knotted very well and it’s slightly askew, and even though he’s still wearing jeans, at least they’re clean this time, and the black dress shoes he
’s got on go perfectly with his dark hair that looks a little more artfully arranged than it did earlier today. And his black eyeliner is amazing—not a smear in sight. He looks like pure trouble and it starts my heart beating way too fast.

  “Where did the hippie chick go?” he asks. I can’t read his expression. Maybe he’s feeling uncomfortable? It’s hard to say. Things are getting awkward quickly.

  I poke my thumb out behind me. “She’s down on the farm. Do you want me to invite her out with us tonight?”

  He holds out his elbow. “She can tag along,” he says gruffly. “I wouldn’t want her to disappear completely.”

  Right answer. From the small table by the door, I grab the little clutch purse that I got for a buck fifty, slide my key card and phone into it, and step out, shutting the door behind me. Putting my hand in the crook of Ty’s elbow, I walk on tiptoes down the hallway to the elevator, worried I’m going to fall over if I take a normal stride in these shoes. I feel like I’m going to the prom, which is something I’ve never done before. Being homeschooled made that pretty much impossible. Ty is about two inches taller than me since I have these ridiculous heels on, which is perfect as far as I’m concerned.

  “I feel like I should’ve brought you a corsage,” he says when we get to the elevator.

  “I was just thinking that we look like we’re going to the prom together.”

  We both chuckle nervously. When the elevator door opens, Jeremy is inside. He glances at me and smiles before going back to staring at the panel of buttons in front of him.

  Ty and I step inside and the doors shut behind us. “Jeremy, we’d like to go to the lobby.”

  “Yes, Ms. Fields.”

  Ty leans in and whispers in my ear. “You know him?”

  I whisper back. “I know everyone.”

  He stares straight ahead, slowly shaking his head but wearing a smile. I like this new vibe we have between us. Most of the frustration is gone, and whatever bit is left is on the back burner on a slow simmer. I don’t need to deal with it now.

  I’m glad I’ve got this monkey-man with me, because I’m pretty sure I’m not really prepared for this event, whatever it is. I might look the part with this killer dress, but I’ve never been to a gathering of more than thirty people. The biggest one I’ve ever been to was down on the farm, celebrating the summer solstice, and clothing was optional—a totally different atmosphere and set of expectations for sure.

  There’s a driver outside the hotel waiting for us. He’s holding the back door of a limousine open so we can climb in. After buckling up, I grip my purse with two hands. I’m so freaking nervous, I’m feeling sick to my stomach. Those chili hot dogs are killing me. I want to text my sisters and tell them what I’m doing, and I will, as soon as I can trust that I won’t barf in this vehicle.

  As the car enters the early evening traffic, I wonder where exactly we’re going. Ty says nothing. For fifteen minutes the car is totally silent, save for the horn honking the driver sometimes uses to communicate his feelings to the other drivers and pedestrians we encounter.

  I use the time to text Em and Rose. I’m going to an ‘event’ tonight with Ty, lead guitarist. Wish me luck! I don’t get a response. I’m ready to scream from the buildup of tension when the car pulls over in front of another building and comes to a stop.

  I try to get a look at it through the window, but the building is too high. “The event is in here?” It looks like another office building.

  “Not exactly.” Ty gets out of the car and comes around to open my door for me before I can do it myself. I’m the country girl, too stunned by the big city at night to act like a normal person. Duh.

  I get out, relieved to feel the cool air on my overheated skin, sliding my arm through Ty’s without a word. We walk to the building together, enter through turnstile doors, and get into another elevator.

  “This looks like an office,” I finally say.

  “It is an office building on some of the floors and others have residences. We’re going to the top.”

  A penthouse party. Cool. I think.

  We get out on the top floor, but then he takes me through a door that has stairs behind it. I follow him up, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. He hasn’t said a word, and this is really weird. A big event on the roof? Is that safe?

  When he opens the door at the top of the stairs, a stiff breeze hits me and throws my ringlets around my face. One of the clumps of hair sticks to my lip gloss, so I have to peel it off before I can speak.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m taking you to the event.” There’s a really loud noise outside, like a giant air conditioner unit running. How on earth could they possibly have a nice event out here with that noise going on in the background? They can’t. It’s a setup.

  I hesitate with my hand on the stair railing. “Are you planning to throw me off the top of this building?”

  He frowns at me. “Why on earth would you even think that?”

  “Because I can’t imagine that there’s an event on the top of a building that’s this loud, that’s why.”

  “Come on,” he says, waving me up. “Be brave.” He winks at me so quickly I’m not even sure he did it.

  Seize the day. My mother’s voice echoes in my head. Barbara has told me often over the years that she regrets each time she failed to seize the day or to take the chance to do something that she was too afraid to do. I can do this . . . whatever this is, this loud party on a roof. I don’t need to know how the hosts are going to pull it off; I just have to walk out there and be fabulous in my green dress. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

  I walk up to the top of the stairs and take Ty’s outstretched hand. We’re just two monkeys playing in a zoo together. Just for one night. I’m not alone.

  “Keep your head down,” he says, and when I step out onto the roof of the building, I realize why he said that—there’s a helicopter waiting, and its blades are spinning.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Whoa! Wait a minute! What the hell is that?!” I shriek. I reverse through the door onto the landing at the top of the stairs. “You never said anything about a helicopter, for Pete’s sake!”

  Ty has to yell to be heard over the sound of the flying machine whose blades are moving faster and getting louder. “If I had told you, would you have come?”

  “No!” Riding on a regular plane was difficult enough. This would be akin to dangling myself over the city on a string.

  He lets the door close so we can hear each other better. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ve been on a hundred of them by now.”

  “But it’s going to be dark out soon.”

  “They fly using radar. It’s safe, I promise. And you’re not gonna believe what the city looks like from up there. I swear, it’s something you’ll never forget.”

  I’m panicking as I envision my fiery, painful death. “But what if it crashes?” Fire. Twisted metal. Smoke. Blood.

  He gives me a scolding look. “Come on, hippie chick. People ride in helicopters all the time. They’re safer than airplanes.”

  I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “Who told you that?”

  “I read it on Google. Come on.” He holds out his hand, expecting me to take it. “I don’t want to be late. It’s better to get to these things early so we can leave early.”

  I stare at his hand. Do I want to take it? Do I want to get into a helicopter that could crash into a building and kill not only me and him but many innocent people? No, I don’t. But my hand goes out anyway and latches on to his.

  “Come on,” he says. “Just keep your head down. And hang on to your chopsticks.” He’s staring at the back of my head.

  I pause in the doorway. “Don’t you like my chopsticks?”

  He grins. “Love the chopsticks. If they run out of forks on the buffet you’re going to be all set.”

  I smack him lightly in the gut as we walk through the door together. “You’re going to pay for that later.”
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  “I hope so. It’ll give me something to look forward to.”

  We half-walk, half-run across the dark surface of the roof to the waiting helicopter. It’s a lot smaller on the inside than I imagined it would be. There’s a single seat in the front for the pilot and two seats in the back for us.

  “Where are we going?” I ask anyone who will answer.

  Ty gives me a hand up into my seat and helps me figure out how to put on the safety belt, which is a lot more complicated than the one on the airplane. He settles himself into the spot next to me and makes sure we both have on headsets before he answers my question. His voice comes into my ears through the little speakers. Much of the helicopter noise is now blocked out. I have no idea if the pilot can hear us.

  “We’re going over to the airport,” Ty says.

  “Why didn’t we just take a cab?”

  “Because.” He looks at me as the pilot shuts the door next to us, closing us into the tiny capsule. “It’s not nearly as fun or as fast. We have a flight to catch.”

  “A flight?” My mouth drops open and stays that way.

  “Yeah. Didn’t I mention that?” He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. He’s enjoying himself way too much.

  Unbelievable. I totally fell for his nonsense. Two monkeys in a zoo? Please. I may be a monkey, but he’s a fox. “You are in so much trouble right now,” I say, trying to be appropriately mad but failing miserably.

  He smiles harder. “Really? And that’s a bad thing?”

  I shake my head. “You just wait and see.” I fold my arms over my chest, but when I realize how much it pushes my boobs up, I stop. Out of the corner of my eye I see him staring.

  “Keep your eyeballs in your head where they belong,” I warn.