Lucky

This afternoon Dylan and I had yet another fight. The poolside playtime with Flynn and his new friend left me in a mood I couldn’t seem to shake. I was relieved when Dylan didn’t try to come with me to the airport. Traveling with him makes everything into a production, and I really just want some alone time with Avery.

After two hours of delays, I finally have my best friend. We walk to the waiting car with her two bags in tow. Two bags…for a two-night trip.

“What the hell did you bring?”

“Clothes.”

“We’re in Texas in summer, it’s not like it’s sweater season. You really couldn’t fit everything in one bag?”

“I brought some extra outfits for you.”

“For me? Why?”

“To cheer you up.”

“But I’m not depressed.” Well. Maybe a little. But that’s a story I can’t get into now as we sit in the back of a car being driven by security. Dylan’s security.

“What did you have for breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“Yes, breakfast.”

“A chocolate chip muffin and coffee. Oh. And maybe a few pieces of bacon.”

“Did you sleep until after seven?”

“Yes. I slept in for a change. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“This morning’s sonnet. What was it titled?”

“‘Ruin.’”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re depressed. When you’re down, you eat, get up late and write depressing poetry.” She shrugs like it’s a known fact.

“I do not.” Then I think about it. “Do I?”

Avery’s look says duh, even though she doesn’t.

“But even if that’s all true, how did you know that all the way from New York?”

“The sighing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have this little sigh at the end of your sentences when you’re depressed. It’s like talking is an effort. You sighed on the phone when you called to confirm my flight info last night.”

“You’re absolutely insane, you know that?” A barely there sigh comes out after my last word. Oh my god.

Avery arches an eyebrow and grins. “A glass of wine while I get to pick out what you wear tonight. Then you can spill your guts when we get home. If you spill them before, you won’t want to go out.”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

“No problem.” She ends her response with an over-pronounced, intentional sigh.

The Easy Ryder show is sold out again and the VIP section is filled with corporate sponsors in suits. Avery and I forgo our five-hundred-dollar reserved accommodations in favor of the cheap seats on the floor. Even though Avery isn’t a fan of Dylan Ryder, there’s no denying she loves their music. Together we dance around and sing along with the crowd.

I try to focus on the music and enjoy my time with Avery, ignoring the man standing on the right side of the stage, but it’s virtually impossible when it’s time for him to take the microphone.

Flynn has the women swooning before he even sings the first note. A woman screams something obscene and rushes past security to throw underwear on the stage. They land at Flynn’s feet and he looks down with almost an embarrassed grin and shakes his head with a flirty half smile. Absolutely charming.

“Lord, that man is delectable,” Avery says. “How the hell have you been traveling on a bus with him and not jumped his bones?”

I stare up at the stage. Flynn is absorbed in the song, eyes shut; the sound that flows from him seems to come from somewhere even deeper tonight. The words more soulful, more achingly beautiful as he sings Linc’s song about losing the girl he loves. Tears fill my eyes. He’s absolutely hypnotizing.

As the song ends, I notice they’ve changed the transition back to Dylan. Rather than a hard finish, which gives the crowd a chance to applaud, the set seamlessly moves from Flynn’s solo performance right into Dylan’s next song. When the spotlight leaves Flynn, there’s an ache in my chest at the loss.

“Oh my god. You fucked him!” Avery screams. I turn and find my friend’s eyes flashing shock, her face filled with excitement.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Luciana Valentine.”

Oh geez. She’s channeling my father.

“It’s…complicated.”

She claps her hands and jumps up and down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The truth is, I wanted to tell Avery. But I’m embarrassed at how I’ve acted. She’s my best friend. I’m pretty sure if I committed murder, she’d grab a shovel instead of judging me. Yet I kept putting off this conversation because I knew what would happen after she buried the body. We’d talk about it. And she’d push me to figure out why I did what I did and make sense of it. Keeping my head in the sand wouldn’t be possible anymore. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready to talk about it while it was happening.”

“Was? As in it’s not anymore?”

I shake my head and a tear rolls down my cheek.

“Oh, honey.” Avery wraps her hand around my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go backstage and have a drink.”

The concert is less than half over, which makes getting through security a breeze compared to the line of women who will be vying for backstage access at the end of the show. Behind the scenes is quiet—most people are stage-side, watching the show, or in the VIP area. I’m surprised to find anyone in the lounge. Two women are seated at the bar. My stomach drops when I catch a glimpse of one of them. Flynn’s poolside plaything from today.

“Hey. From the pool today, right?” she asks with a friendly smile. She’s stunning, and it makes me feel insecure—something I pride myself on not being.

I nod.

“Dylan Ryder’s girlfriend,” the woman explains to her friend. “Flynn and I saw them down at the pool today.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Flynn’s sister, Rebecca.”

“Really? You’re Laney’s mom?”

The woman cocks her head. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Flynn talks about her all the time.”

She smiles. “Yep. That would be my brother. Had his heart stolen the day she was born. This is my friend, Alana. She lives here in Austin. Laney and I flew in last night to visit and watch the show.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lucky, and this is Avery.”

“Lucky? The voice coach?”

“That’s me.” I pause. “But how did you know I was a voice coach?”

She smiles. “I hope you don’t find this inappropriate, but I’m pretty sure my brother has it bad for you.”

Avery pipes in from next to me, “I’m pretty sure the feeling is reciprocal.”

My eyes flare. I look at Alana. “He doesn’t. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “Why are you sorry?”

“Aren’t you two…?”

“Me and Flynn?” She crinkles her nose. “Gross. No. Why would you think that?”

“I saw you at the pool together today. And you said…”