Chapter 15

Skyla was in a weird sort of heaven.

This little apartment was full of music and light, animals and color. Kirsten took a few days off at the restaurant so they could hang together. She didn't have to put on makeup or a bra. There were hours of jamming, of writing, but then there were also hours and hours of watching true crime shows.

Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on their phones.

She found out that Kirsten was a reader. Weird little stacks of books were stashed around the house—mostly suspense, but every so often she'd find a romance novel tucked in with the rest. God, didn't that make her smile.

Hell, she even made chili.

They did laundry together.

They made love for hours, just luxuriating in each other. Kirsten could do things to her that helped her believe in god.

She hadn't been answering her phone calls. She texted the band, of course. She told them she was fine, that she was taking a mental health week. That they'd get paid for it. Brenda was the one who replied with, "You go girl."

Yeah, this was truly magical.

"You do realize I'm going to have to get up soon?" Kirsten stretched on the sofa, head on her lap. She wiggled her socked feet, which immediately found a cat attacking them and nibbling at her toes, holding on. "Ow! Kitty!"

Skyla did not laugh. Nope. "Where do we have to go?"

"I have a gig at the pizza parlor. Cherry can always get another waitress. To get another picker? Not so much." Kirsten's head tilted, and she fastened Skyla with a wicked grin. "Wanna come play with me?"

"You don't think I'd steal your thunder." She didn't want to fuck this up.

Kirsten snorted, then she grinned. "I know you're gonna steal my thunder. I mean, there is absolutely no question of that." Then Skyla got this warm smile that went right to her cunt and made her toes curl. "I don't mind. I'll pick, we can sing. I'll sing harmony. I don't care at all. I just think it's a wild idea—you and me together alone on a little stage. I mean there's no bad there."

She wasn't wrong.

Skyla kind of loved it. She loved being on stage. She loved singing more than just about anything, and what could it hurt? It wasn't as if Kirsten had a huge audience.

Hell, most of these women were Kirsten's friends. She'd sung with a lot of them.

"Okay. That sounds like fun. I'm in. What are we gonna wear?"

"Well…" Kirsten rolled her eyes. So butch, her girl. "I'm going to be daring and wear jeans and a tank top with a flannel shirt over the top."

"Ah, so your dress clothes," she teased.

"Absolutely. In fact, if you're really lucky, I'll put the diamond stud in my nose."

"So long as you keep the stud in your tongue, I don't care." She was sort of in love with that—like in a deep personal-personal way.

Kirsten laughed and stuck out her tongue, wiggled her piercing. "You like that, do you?"

"Has any woman that you tried it on said no?"

"You have a point." That earned her a wink. "What do you want to wear tonight?"

She pondered that for a second. "I've got that pretty green sweater. You know, the one that we bought at the farmer's market?"

Kirsten nodded. "You mean the one Leanne made? I think it's absolutely gorgeous on you. You totally wear that with a pair of jeans? You're good to go."

This was one of the reasons she was falling in love.

Not only did Kirsten remember the sweater, but she knew who knitted it. Hell, she probably knew the person who grew the goats or rabbits. Llamas? Emus? Did they make yarn out of emus? Okay, that was gross.

"Sounds good. I'll have to have you do my makeup. I mean, I don't have much here, just my little bag's worth."

"Well, we can call up Susan. I bet she'd come up here and do your hair and makeup, if you wanted to. I don't have to be on until eight."

Skyla actually considered it, because there was always the chance that there be somebody with a phone, somebody watching. Then the clip would be out on the Internet, and she'd have to defend her looks.

On the other hand, this was her moment. She could go with a little mascara, some lipstick, pull her hair back in a braid, and just be done with it.

"I don't suppose you know how to do a French braid?"

Kirsten cackled. "Honey, I told you I used to have really long hair. And? I was in volleyball. I can do every sort of goddamn braid known in creation. Let me get a comb, and one of those little rubber bands."

"I can do it." She was thinking hard. This could be part of the transition she was making from the more bubblegum stuff to more serious music. Maybe some Red Dirt type of stuff…

But more importantly, this was sharing her life with Kirsten.

She found the comb and grabbed one of her hair ties, smiling at the sight of her things jumbled up with Kirsten's on the vanity. Lord. That was fine.

"Here, honey." She handed them over, then sat on the floor to let Kirsten sit up on the couch and have access to her hair. She did love that woman's hands on her scalp. Skyla was getting addicted to the massages Kirsten gave her.

"So, what do you want to play tonight? You have a vibe in mind?" Kirsten started by brushing her hair out, nice and easy.

"Bluesy. Maybe a little redneck blues…" She chuckled. "We could sing our song."

"Sure. Totally. We'll slip it in in between covers to keep them from revolting."

Yeah, the supper crowd wanted tunes they knew. Hell, the concert crowd wanted the same thing. But that was okay. One song wasn't going to kill anyone. "If I was doing it in my show I'd pull a Garth Brooks and put the words on the big screen," she teased.

"Yes, well, we'll be lucky if the second mic works. You, my love, are slumming tonight."

"I am loving that idea." She missed playing small venues, truth be told. Oh, sure, an arena was a high. But any artist would tell people it meant more to see and read faces in the crowd.

Sometimes she wanted to be silly and goof off on a postage-stamp sized stage.

Once her braid was done, Kirsten kissed the top of her head. "Go get made up while I get dressed, huh? I'll find your sweater."

"Hopefully the cats didn't make a home in it," Skyla teased.

"Ugh." Kirsten laughed, though. "Do we need to take the pup out to potty?"

"Yeah." They didn't even have to crate Reba now. The cats had learned how to get in the loft when she got playful, and she was used to living on a bus. Small spaces didn't bother her at all. And she hadn't chewed anything that wasn't her toy since she was a pup. "I'll take her right before we leave."

"Sounds good. You look so young like that. So pretty." Kirsten stroked the back of her neck, making her shiver.

"Mmm. Thank you." She wiggled her hips, knowing Kirsten was watching her butt. She went to put on makeup, consciously keeping it light. Just enough to enhance her eyes and lips.

"Mmm…" Kirsten smiled, spiking her hair up, adding a little glitter.

"Oh, I like that." They bumped hips as she went to put her sweater on, then stepped into her boots. "Be right back."

By the time she took Reba out and gave her a Milk Bone, Kirsten was ready, and they grabbed guitar cases to head out to the gig.

They drove down to Cherry's, parked in the back, and then headed in. It was a full house, the scent of garlic and yeast and spices redolent in the air.

"Yum. Can we eat after we play?" She didn't want cheese before the set. Bad for the pipes. But she could murder a pie all of a sudden.

"Hell, yes." Kirsten held the door for her.

"Well, well." Mama Cherry met them in the back hall. "Look who came to play."

"Yeah…" Kirsten's cheeks were pink. "I've been busy."

"Busy. Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yep." Skyla winked. "That's our story and we're sticking to it. Is it okay if I sit in?"

She knew it was always good to clear it with the owner first.

"Of course. You're welcome here, Ms. Bridey."

"Skyla. Please."

"Skyla. Break a leg." Mama Cherry winked before heading to the kitchen, and they walked into the back dining room where the little stage was set up opposite the bar. She put her case down on the back of the stage, and butterflies danced in her belly. These were Kirsten's friends. And she was nervous.

"Should we start with ‘What's Up?'?"

Oh, 4 Non Blondes was always good.

"You got it, honey." She tuned for the song, and they both ran a scale, which got a cheer from the crowd.

"You take lead," Kirsten urged, so she closed her eyes and hit the first line right on time, keeping the cover pretty faithful for a Texan, if she did say so herself.

They played song after song, the crowd laughing and singing along, the place rocking.

God, it felt good.

At the end of their first set, the ladies in the audience called them over to the bar. "Drinks for the band!"

She laughed, raising an eyebrow at Kirsten.

"Heck yes. Come on." Kirsten wrapped one arm around her waist. "Isn't she amazing?"

Whoa. This felt so right, so normal, and Skyla grinned and waved. "Kirsten's being a sweetheart."

"She's a good egg." That was… Kiley? She thought that was the tall blonde drink of water's name.

"She is. This is so much damn fun."

"We're not too small an audience."

"Shit, y'all are perfect. Singing. Hollering. It's awesome."

The tall blonde with the little scarred up gal handed over a beer. "We're tickled to have you."

"Thank you so much." She took the shot someone else handed her, letting that burn down before she grabbed the beer. "Whoo. Tequila."

"Mmhmm." Kirsten shook her head for the one she was offered. "I'm driving, y'all. I'll stick with this beer."

"Good woman." The cowgirl nodded. "I'm Evie, by the way. And that's Cheyenne."

"So nice to meet you for real." She'd seen them the first night in town, but they hadn't been to the singalong.

"Same here. You both should come out to the ranch, have supper, play some cards."

"We'd love that." Evie kissed the top of Cheyenne's head. "Wouldn't we, babe?"

"Mmm. You know I love to cook for people." Cheyenne looked at Evie like she'd hung the moon.

"That would be so nice." She hadn't done something like that in—well, ever, as an adult. Gone to a dinner party with people not in the band or in her management. Where she always had to be on guard.

"Cool. Any dietary things I need to know about?" Cheyenne smiled at her, and her whole face lit up.

"Nope. I don't have food allergies, and I'm on vacay. I am going full on." She needed to get to the gym and hit the treadmill, but really, she felt pretty good.

"So tomorrow? Sunday?"

Kirsten squeezed her gently. "Up to you, babe."

"When do you have the time off, honey?"

"How about Sunday?" Kirsten said. "I don't have a shift that day."

"Sounds perfect." Evie clapped Kirsten on the back. "I can't wait to show you our place, Skyla. Chey's made it a real home."

"I can see that. Sometimes it takes someone else to help you understand you were missing something." She glanced at Kirsten. "You might not have known it otherwise."

"You know it. That's one of the ways love makes, right?"

"Yes." She meant it, too, she realized. She was in love with Kirsten. She had it bad.

"Sounds perfect. What can we bring?" Kirstan's eyes twinkled. "I'm assuming not dessert, o queen of the magical land of pastry?"

"Bitch." Cheyenne giggled, the sound really soft. "I'm thinking pasta. Unless you all want something like chili? I mean. I am from Texas."

"So are both of us. Let's have pasta." Kristen winked at Cheyenne. They all chuckled and nodded, looking like a quartet of Bobblehead dolls.

"Point taken. I can do that."

They all stood there drinking their beers, just kind of chilling. And it was so relaxing. Easy to breathe, easy to lean into Kirsten. Easy to just talk. Like they were simply two women between sets.

Visiting with friends.

Getting ready to go up again, and do what they were born to do.

Make music.

It was the most wonderful thing she'd ever experienced.

And she was fixin' to do it again.