Chapter 14

"You think they'll like her?" Skyla was worried. They'd gone this morning to pick up Reba, who had promptly tried to knock down Kirsten, and now they were back at Kirsten's apartment with biscuit sandwiches and the dog, ready to introduce her mutt to the cats.

Shit, she hoped this was a good idea.

She was very worried that it wasn't, but most of the kittens had gone to homes now, so it was as good a time as any.

"They'll be fine. The kitten will be scared. Everyone else knows dogs. Evie has dogs, Lupe has dogs—I fostered a dog or so when I needed to."

"Ah. Okay, cool." Somehow, they'd never gotten that far in talking about it. Kirsten had just been totally unconcerned about it. "Mich has cats, so…"

"Have you heard from her?" Kirsten unlocked the door to let her in, and she held Reba's leash while trying not to communicate tension through it.

"Not yet. I'll text this afternoon."

"Good deal." Kirsten had picked up the cat food already and put it on the kitchen counter. Smart lady. Reba would gobble it up and then poop on the rug because she was so excited. Some things a rescue dog just couldn't let go of, and that was Reba's. Food insecurity, though she wasn't at all aggressive about it.

A meow sounded, Kirsten's cats came running, and it was hilarious how they stopped in their tracks and stared at Reba as if she were some kind of dinosaur or giant bug.

Reba sat on the floor, tail wagging hard, eyes focused, soft little whines filling the air.

"That's my good girl. Be polite." She praised softly, then gave Reba a treat.

"She's doing really well. You made her sound like a hooligan," Kirsten said.

"Oh, she's amazing. I just worry." She worried about every damn thing, but this trip, this relationship, was teaching her to let a few things go.

"Oh, I get it. When Lupe and Liz came over to pick up their kittens, I stressed everything." Kirsten rolled her eyes and sat on the old sofa, drawing her feet up under her. "Seriously. Can they smell the litter box? Do they think the kittens seem healthy? Do they think they're well-socialized. Literally. Every single thing."

Okay, so that made Skyla feel so much better. "Should I unhook her?"

"Totally. There's a water bowl in the kitchen. She'll do fine." Kirsten winked at her.

"Or not. They're pets, not toys."

"True enough. I want them to get along, though. I—it's important." She had all these amorphous thoughts about togetherness and shit.

"Oh, me too." Kirsten slid to the floor and opened her arms to Reba. "Come here, baby girl."

She let go, and Kirsten just snuggled and scritched and praised. Reba panted and wiggled and wagged, and she had to laugh because the cats were up in the loft staring down.

It was the kitten, little calico Sally, that was brave enough to come up first, whiskers twitching.

Reba sat, just the tip of her tail vibrating, and let the cat come to her, and Skyla was so proud she could bust. She didn't dare say anything to break the spell or set Reba off.

They touched noses, and then Reba woofed softly, causing Sally to turn all bottle brush. The little bit hissed, and Reba looked so surprised, but no one went postal, and Kirsten just picked up the kitten and held her while Reba sniffed.

Momma kitty came down, rowled softly, then led her daughter away while Kirsten loved on Reba.

"See, Mom? It's going to be okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, it looks like the first meeting went well." She blew out a breath and plopped down on the couch. Damn, she was tired of being stressed.

"You look worn, lady." Kirsten reached out to put a hand on her ankle, sending a little thrill through her.

"I'm so silly." Tears stung her eyes, which was maddening. "I hate being at odds with the band. Brenda says it's growing pains. Change is hard, and I'm looking to make some changes. To my life, I mean. So, they're on the defensive. Whatever that means."

"I think she's got a point. This was supposed to be a vacay, and now it's some life-changing thing. Give them time."

She nodded, her heart easing some. "I mean, I will. They're my band. They've been with me from when the van that broke down every time we turned left to the stadium shows. But man, I wish it was just easier."

"Liz always told me if it was easy it wasn't worth it when I was working at MM."

She snorted. "I hear that a lot too."

"Maybe there's something to it."

"Ugh. Get up here." She held down a hand to pull Kirsten up on the couch.

Kirsten snuggled in, that lean body all fascinating angles. "You don't have to solve all the world's problems today, honey."

"No?" She snuggled close. "Good. I don't want to." Reba hopped up with them on the sofa. "Is that okay?"

"Huh? Oh, sure. The cats have already gotten it all hairy."

"Oh, good. I want to hang with you. Just have a lazy day."

"That's all we have to do. We have food, drink, movies, music, and a bed. We have our babies. It's easy."

"Thank you." She patted Kirsten's leg. "You know I'm not using you, right? That this is important? I want to spend time with you."

"I'm glad." Kirsten just let her touch and love on her and all.

Like it really was all about them and here and now.

"How long doesit take to put all that makeup and hair and stuff on when you're performing?" Kirsten massaged the shampoo into Skyla's scalp, smiling as Skyla melted under the shower. They'd fill up the tub after, or maybe they'd just go to bed. Who knew?

"Oh God. That depends on the performance. Just for a stage show? Maybe half an hour. But for an awards show or a Christmas TV special? It can be an hour or two. They want you to look just soo for TV."

"Man, I would think the big screen at the shows would be harsher."

"Nah. That guy works for me. And in a concert, people expect me to work."

She dug into the scalp massage. "What's your favorite thing to do, performance-wise?"

"Rodeo concerts, believe it or not. The big ones like Houston and Austin. It's only an hour, so I never run out of steam, and the folks are always loud and happy."

"I've been to Rodeo Houston, believe it or not."

"You? My tattooed, pierced woman?"

"Started out with hair to my waist." Embarrassing, but true.

"No shit? Who did you go see? Was it the rock and roll show, or a country one?" Skyla hummed, the water running down over them and allowing Kirsten to rinse out that long hair.

"Shania Twain once and George Strait once."

"Ah, King George." Skyla chuckled. "I sang with him once in Cheyenne. He's a hoot." Skyla turned to wash her, sudsing her up good.

"Neat. I think every Texan has to see him once."

"I can see that. Like Willie Nelson."

"Oh, man. Talk about someone who can pick."

Skyla laughed, poking her. "He also writes songs occasionally."

"Ow! Watch that, woman. I have no padding."

"You have some." Skyla pinched one of her nipples.

"Cheeky!" She laughed at Skyla, wiggling in the spray. "So mean to me."

"Not even a little." Skyla was beautiful bare—and it made Kirsten's mouth dry.

They rinsed off, and she turned off the water, letting Skyla wrap her in a big fluffy towel. "You mind if we just go flop, honey? I love soaking with you, but I'm ready to snuggle without Reba for a bit."

Reba had gone out for her last bathroom break and was in her soft-sided crate for the night. Just to be safe. The cats were used to having the run of the house, and Kirsten hadn't wanted that to change too much.

"Absolutely. I want to just hold you. Snuggle." Pretend for a second that they were a normal, regular couple.

"Maybe put on some music that neither one of us made…"

She hooted. "We can. Maybe some classic RB? Marvin Gaye type stuff?"

"Sexay. And yes, I love that stuff." Skyla wrapped a towel around her hair, then led her to the loft.

Kirsten had changed the sheets, and the bed was piled high with comforters and pillows in all different colors. It went well with the deep red paint on the walls, the unwired chandeliers sparkling in the lamplight. She thought it set a good scene, and Skyla seemed to appreciate it, too, making a happy noise as they dropped towels and snuggled into bed.

"So, tell me about your bus." Kirsten was desperately curious to know the weird little details about Skyla's life. Hers was so basic. So incredibly normal.

"I really like it. It's all mine, which I guess makes me spoiled. I mean, it's not like I have a private plane like Tim McGraw... I've had it for about five years, maybe six. It's all decorated in purple because it was a gift to me. Like literally, a gift." Skyla blushed so prettily and dipped her chin like she was embarrassed. "I mean I know. I do, but it was so sweet, and her daddy owned a dealership… At least he got to use it as a tax write-off, and so did we. At any rate, I have a bus of my own. It's great because it's got one big bedroom, and then it's got another bedroom that I use just for my clothes, and my guitars are all in there. Uh… And I have a bathroom. All in all, it's just a great little place for a home on the road."

Kirsten didn't know what to say. She couldn't imagine someone giving anyone a whole RV, much less a bus, but Skyla was a superstar. It was hard not to be self-conscious about that, but she told herself she made her decisions. She made her own bed, she was laying in it, and she didn't feel too bad about that her people could have gotten her a lot farther than she had allowed them to do. That's why she finally settled on, "I hope to be able to see it someday."

"Yeah. I didn't bring it. The band pretty much stays together on the other bus. It's bigger, and the bunks are smaller, but that's part of the deal I guess." She hesitated, winked. "That, and I couldn't convince the daddy to give me two busses."

Speaking of daddies… "Are you close with your folks?"

That was one of the things that Kirsten regretted the most. She had found family, tons of it. Dozens of women and friends who would have her back and take care of her, but they weren't her mom and dad.

Which okay, sometimes even that wasn't too bad, but there is part of her that wanted to be a part of a family.

"I am, yeah. I have a mom and a dad, my granny. I have a brother who's ten years younger than me. He's in high school. He's fixin' to graduate, and he thinks he's gonna go to UT in Austin." Skyla rolled her shoulders like she was tense, and Kirsten pulled the covers up tighter. No freezing her girl. "He's very athletic, wants to be a football star."

"Like in the NFL?"

"Yeah. He's good enough to have been scouted up by UT. He thinks he wants to study politics."

Kirsten blinked. No shit. "Politics? Well, I guess there's always going to be those…" Although Kirsten wasn't sure exactly what somebody who studied them would do. She figured you either had to get into politics yourself or talk about them on the TV. Either way, it wasn't near as fun as having your own bus.

"Yeah. My mom's sort of a politician. You know—city council, school board, nothing serious. But she has her own little space in that world. Daddy? Now daddy's like me. He's a musician."

"Oh yeah? What does he play?"

She chuckled and rolled those big, big blue eyes. "Would you believe clarinet?"

"Clarinet as in high school band, Benny Goodman, "In the Mood" clarinet?" Okay, that was the one, and unexpected.

Skyla cracked up. "Well yeah. Exactly like high school band. He's the band director!" She grabbed her phone and pulled up some pictures. Kirsten would be damned if there wasn't this tall, normal-looking blond dude in a pair of khaki slacks and a polo shirt leading a bunch of band kids.

"This is daddy." Skyla swiped a few times. "This is my mom now." Weirdly Skyla looked more like her mom, even though her mom was dark, than she did her father. She had her daddy's coloring, but that little turned-up nose and that pointed chin? That was all her mom. She looked a lot like a woman who could get things done, like one of those old Texas Mamas—hard as nails, head hair like a helmet, could get things accomplished and God help you if you got in her way.

"And this here is Darren. He's my brother." Now Darren was a spitting image of mom—dark hair, dark eyes, face the shape of Skyla's but thicker in the jaw. In fact, thicker everywhere Skyla was petite and curvy, this little boy was broad and ripped.

"Wow. He's built like a brick shithouse."

Skylar nodded. "I know, right, and he doesn't have to work at it me. I eat one piece of pizza, and it goes right to my butt."

"Oh now there isn't anything wrong with your butt."

"Well, I tell you what, if you'd said that there was something wrong with it, you'd be in big trouble. I might have to pounce you." Skyla yanked the covers up over their heads, then turned to face Kirsten. "I swear to God, honey. Nothing's ever been so good as this."

"That's how it's supposed to be, right?" Kirsten stole a soft kiss. "This is the sort of thing you tell your grandbabies. This is the sort of family story that goes on forever."

Skyla stopped and tilted her head. "You mean how I hooked up with a pink-haired lesbian at a pizza joint?"

Kirsten tried to let that not hurt, but it did for a lot of reasons. "Yep. It's one of those no shit I was there stories—like a fairy tale without the Disney prince."

"Hmm." Skyla just looked at her, eyes narrowed, and she had no idea what that even meant.

She winked over. "I mean, I could be a prince for a day, if you needed me to…"

"I was thinking for more than that." Skyla traced her tattoos, redrawing the patterns. "I—Is it ridiculous that I want to see you again? And really like, see where it goes?"

"Not for me." But Skyla had this…country and western life. "What will your people think?"

"My people… Well, a very wise woman told me to screw that and worry about what I would regret later on in life. I think I would regret it if I didn't give this a shot."

"Regrets suck, lady, and…well, we got something." She'd felt it before, and she sure as shit wanted to feel it again.

"We do. And I don't want to be too scared to try to go for it." Skyla poked her gently.

"So, no more I just picked you up at a pizza place."

"Fair enough." Okay. Okay, fuck. Kirsten let those tingles zip through her body, little electric fairies that played her nerves. Then she leaned in to take a kiss.

Skyla tasted like home, like bravery.

"How about I seduced you with my version of ‘I Can't Make You Love Me'?"

"Oh, baby." Skyla pushed her over, straddling her, hands framing her face. "That melted my butter."