Bounce (31 page)

Adam shifts his weight. I feel his sharp eyes home in on me. I think he knows what I'm going to say before I do because a calm, satisfied expression settles over his face.

“It makes a difference,” I tell him, more sure than ever about my decision. “I'm staying. There are a few things I need to work out.”

  
Chapter 34
  

Skyler

M
ia bounces around our apartment like Garrett on sugar. She stayed over so we could have a last hurrah with Beth before taking off for Virgin Gorda. And Grey was out all night with his band. He better get here soon to get his stuff together, or the plane's going to leave without him.

It's barely sunrise, again, and I'm trying to pack the last of my suitcases for the big trip. Figuring out what to bring for three weeks, when you'll be in someone else's wardrobe for eighteen hours a day, is tougher than you think. In the end, I still have two jam-packed suitcases, a carry-on, and my biggest purse, stuffed so full, I can barely zipper it. I know I'm going overboard. I've just never been away for so long, unless you count college, and it's possible I'm packing more for
this
than I did for
that
.

Finally, I drag everything to the front door and turn to Beth, who's curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and nursing a cup of tea.

“I wish you were coming.”

She shrugs. “They don't need me.”

“
I
need you,” I say, and plop down beside her. “What am I going to do for two and a half weeks without you?”

“You're going to be so busy, you won't have time to think.” She blows across the surface of the tea, making a tiny ripple. Then she takes a sip. “Besides, you've got your steamy love triangle to keep you hopping.”

“Gosh, you're funny,” I say and mentally run through every item in my bedroom, trying to determine one last time if I've left anything behind and if it's possible to sneak a cello onto the plane. I haven't played in weeks, and going away without Beyonce or Christina feels like leaving a limb behind. “How did you get so funny?”

“Just born with it, I guess.”

“Too bad there's no triangle.” I tell her. “Or much steam for that matter.”

“Now, that's a shame.”

“Well, we all can't be you and Titus.”

She tries to take another sip of her tea, though the ridiculously big grin on her face makes it difficult. “True that.”

“I guess I don't have to worry about you being bored while I'm gone.”

“No,” she tells me. “I've actually got a call back on a TV pilot and some other stuff going on.”

“I meant because of Titus, but that's awesome, too.” A wave of relief spreads through me—that she's finding all these opportunities, that her small part in the movie is helping her get offers, too. I didn't realize how much I've been nursing this guilt still, about taking something from her, until now.

“Yeah, it's all good. You don't have to worry.”

“I wasn't—”

“Sky, please. I know you. But, seriously, things happen the way they're meant to happen. In no way am I right for the part. Not with Garrett. But you two are magic. And I got you into it in the first place. I can hardly be mad about that.”

“I know, but I just kind of wandered in, and you've been studying and working at it forever.”

She shrugs. “It happens. And maybe I need to study less and loosen up more. Anyway, you didn't just get plucked out of obscurity like some street urchin. You earned it.”

Grinning, I pull a corner of her blanket onto me. “Do they still have street urchins?”

“Yeah, I think they keep them in a big warehouse,” offers Mia, who can't seem to stop wandering by and looking out the window every four minutes. “With the newsies and chimney sweeps.”

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“The limo.” She looks at her phone. “It should be here in a few.”

“Really? What about Grey? Should I phone him? Or is he getting another ride?”

Beth and Mia look at each other.

“What?”

“Grey's not going,” Beth says. “How did you not know that?”

“Of course, he's going.” I look at Mia. “He's going, right?”

She shakes her head. “No, he's staying behind to prep for the showcase.”

This incredible feeling of sadness plummets through me, so outsized, like a sinkhole caving in my chest. How could everyone else know he's not coming but me? Why wouldn't he tell me? I feel like crying, and then I feel like kicking myself in the ass for feeling that way. It's just eighteen days. Jesus.

“I guess everyone assumed you knew,” Mia says.

I shake my head. “Somehow, I didn't get the update.”

Or maybe I did. I've been feeling a little light-headed and out of it lately. Maybe Brooks told me while I was drooling over his lunch.

It's good for Grey to stay back, to work on his music for the showcase. It occurs to me that maybe I had a hand in that—maybe the talk we had the other night swayed him a bit. Which is great and crappy all at once. Because, I realize, it's going to be so different without him there. Without his dumb jokes and his hilarious, endless appetite and his sweet, thoughtful heart.

If he's taking this opportunity to get it together, I should be happy for him. The same way Beth's happy for me. That's how friendships work, right?

“And you still have Brooks, right?” asks Beth. “I mean, that's still a thing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”

We were just in San Francisco a few days ago. Of course, it's a thing. Or the start of a thing. A better, smarter thing than whatever the thing it is I have with Grey. Which, I remind myself, is a friendship thing, and that's it.

Still, I pull out my phone to shoot him a text but just stare at the screen. Everything I want to say sounds petulant.

Finally, I settle on something.

Sky:
About to head off to the airport. Will miss you. Kick some musical ass while I'm gone.

I don't expect an answer right away. If he doesn't have to be up at this hour, I doubt he will be. But I see the little ellipses that tell me he's typing a reply and sit there, half holding my breath, waiting for it.

Grey:
Will do. Just had to stay and take care of things.

Sky:
I know. Have a good few weeks.

Grey:
Shit. That's a long time.

No kidding, I think. Then another text comes through.

Grey:
Hang on. Sending you something.

An audio file comes through. His song, “Surprised by the Sky.” I've heard it a hundred times already on his CD.

Grey:
Working on a new arrangement and new lyrics. Let me know what you think.

I smile, touched that he wants my opinion and knowing music is his way to keep us connected, even while I'm gone.

Sky:
Can't wait to listen.

Grey:
Text me from the set. And send pics.

Sky:
Okay.

Grey:
Especially if there's a nude beach.

I laugh and find myself wanting to hug the phone.

Sky:
I really will miss you.

Grey:
I know. I'll miss you, too, Sky.

“Limo's here,” Mia says.

I look at my phone for a second, feeling like there's something else to say, but I can't imagine what that is. And it really is only three weeks. It's not like I'm taking a century ship to Mars.

Beth, Mia, and I manage to get the approximately three hundred suitcases and carry-ons down the stairs to the street, at which point the limo driver decides to get out and help us haul them the last six inches to the trunk.

We hug Beth goodbye, and I make her promise to call us every day and water my African violet a couple of times. And give us progress reports on the band. And break a leg at her auditions.

She laughs. “Anything else, Mom?”

“Just . . .” I feel like saying so many things. I don't know why it feels like I'm never coming home again. “Just that I love you, Bets. You're good people.”

She gives me another fierce, tight hug. “You too, Sky. I'm so proud of you, girl. I hope you know.”

“I do.”

We smile at each other. Then Mia comes in for another hug. And we do a three-way hug. Then the limo driver lays on the horn, and we break apart, laughing.

“Guess we need to go,” I say.

“I know. Go. Kill it, Sky.” She looks at Mia. “You too, okay?”

“You too. At your callback.”

“Oh, I will,” she tells us, and I don't, for one second, doubt it's true.

  
Chapter 35
  

Grey

T
hursday afternoon, my phone lights up with a text. Beth, who's in the studio control room with me and looking pretty swag in cordless red BEATS, grabs it off the sill, where I left it earlier.

“Grey, it's Skyler,” she says, tossing it to me. “By the way, it's not right that she's texting you more than me.”

“It's so right, Beth. So right.”

She probably can't hear me, but she rolls her eyes anyway, and turns back to Titus, who's in the sound booth playing the guitar solo in “Runner.”

I read Skyler's text.

Skyler:
Cali status?

This is how it starts now between us, a few times a day. Either from my end or hers. I send back a reply.

Grey:
Titus is tearing it up. Strings are red hot.

Without the long days on the film set, without Garrett to drive around and babysit, I thought I'd have a billion free hours in the day, but I'm busier than ever. To prep for the showcase, we're in the studio every day, taking every one of our songs apart and putting it back together to make sure we're happy with every note, every run, every instrumental solo, every harmony, every everything. It's costing us a mint in studio fees, but we're all in. We want to create something Vogelson won't be able to deny. We're spending money to make money. No. We're spending money to go after our dreams. If that's not a worthy investment, what the hell is?