Chapter 8

Kirsten sat on the sofa in the big fancy house that Skyla and the band were renting. It wasn't far from her house—a few blocks over and up—and she felt uncomfortable as hell.

Still, she'd been asked to stick around, so here she was.

Skyla had just clung to her hand, so despite all the weird looks as they'd brought Lucie, the guitarist, back to the house, she'd pitched in to help. Lucie had a broken arm, and was in a cast as well as a sling that took pressure off her shoulder. Poor lady was asleep already, just worn out from the drugs and the pain.

"So. Who's hungry?" That was the lady they'd introduced as Andi. "I'm going to make spaghetti and meatballs."

The drummer nodded. "I'll make garlic toast."

Someone else said, "I'll make a salad."

"Can I just come sit with you a bit, honey?" Skyla looked tired, dark circles forming under her eyes. She'd been on the phone for about an hour, making calls.

"Come on." She patted the seat. She should have taken Skyla to her place. The woman needed sleep.

"Thanks." Skyla gave her a faint smile and plopped down, groaning. "Lord. What a day."

"Yes, ma'am. I hear you." She'd had to call off work, and she hadn't even hesitated.

"Thanks for being with me all day." Skyla squeezed her hand. "You really helped."

"I tried. I knew you were scared as hell. I could hear it in your voice."

"I was. I—I can handle emergencies, but seeing that… I think I panicked some."

"We all did." That was the drummer guy, Greggo, plopping down across from them, holding a beer.

"You were a hero." Skyla's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You saved her life."

"I was in the right place at the right time. That's all." Greggo shrugged, looking kinda uncomfortable.

Kirsten got that. He'd reacted, and now he was a hero. That was kinda weird, she would bet. It was weird for her, to be honest. She'd reacted, and now she was sitting on Skyla's couch.

"Hey, Sky. Kirsten. Y'all want a beer or a Coke or something?"

"I'll take a beer and a shot." Skyla's wry grin looked a little more normal.

Kirsten got a nod from an older lady with a hard face. "How about you?"

"A beer would be fine, uh?—"

"Brenda. This is our bass player."

"Nice to meet you. And thank you." Kirsten tried a smile. The band was nice enough to her, but she could feel their curiosity. She didn't blame them. She just showed up—and they all looked so damn normal.

The drummer was the only one who even had any visible ink.

Kirsten guessed they had a look that made them country and western sweethearts as opposed to Ani Difranco.

Brenda came back with beers and a bottle of tequila, which she handed to Skyla.

"Thanks, lady."

"So do I need to call the studio and cancel tomorrow?" Andi asked.

"I—I mean…we need to get sound checks…" Skyla looked panicked, and Kirsten had to reach over and pat her hand.

"Lead guitar is kind of important, boss," Greggo said.

Skyla snapped into glare mode, leveling it at the drummer. "I am well aware of that, Gregory. You can stop it."

"Fuck off. I almost dropped her!" Gregory snapped right back, and Kirsten watched everyone stare.

This was like watching tennis. Vaguely.

Skyla grimaced. "I'm sorry. I'm just wigged out. But you're right. You have every right to be off kilter."

Gregory came to Skyla, bent down and hugged her tight. "Love you, Cloudy."

"Love you too, Greggo." Skyla kissed his cheek.

"I'm going to lie down," Greggo said. "Holler when it's time for noodles? The garlic bread's all set up to heat."

"You know it, and thank you." Skyla leaned back against her. "Jesus, woman, I'm tired."

Kirsten could understand that. "You've had one hell of a day." The main room had gone quiet, the ladies all in the kitchen, Greggo gone upstairs. "Thank you for coming. I know it has to be a pain in the ass."

"You needed me. I came." Silly, but true.

"Yeah. You want a shot too?" Skyla opened the bottle of Titos.

Fuck yes, but this wasn't the time. "No, honey. I have to drive home."

"Oh." Skyla tilted her head. "I mean, you could stay here." Then she poured Kirsten a shot.

Kirsten stared at Skyla for a moment, thinking of all the ways that was a bad idea. But she took the shot, didn't she? And followed it with a beer chaser.

By the time they were done with the second shot, Skyla was in her lap. "I want you to play guitar for me tomorrow. Will you?"

"Uh, yeah." She didn't have to work tomorrow. "I mean, if you think the band will be okay with it."

"Of course they will. They need to work and they can't without me. And in this case, you." Skyla nodded and sighed, smiling. "I need some help, and I've heard you pick."

"Okay. I'm in." She really wanted to jam with Skyla. She loved the idea in fact, even if it might be awkward with the band.

"Thank you."

She shrugged, her cheeks heating with pleasure. "Anytime."

The smell of browning meat started wafting from the kitchen. "Yum."

"Andi makes an empowering meatball."

"Not a vegetarian, then?" she teased.

"Lord, no." Skyla looked stricken for a moment, then laughed. "Oh my god, for a minute I thought you were, but I've seen you eat tacos."

"Yep. I mean, I do meatless Mondays, sure, but I like a nice juicy burger too." Kirsten leaned in, daring to whisper low. "I'm more Austin than Portland."

"I like that, honey." Skyla patted her leg, sending tingles all through her. "Fuck, I love Austin, and I'm looking forward to…learning about Colorado."

She had to grin wide at that because it couldn't be more obvious. And she hoped to hell they got to pick up where they'd left off at her apartment. Soon.

"I'm a little bit of an expert when you get right down to it." She could flirt—it wasn't great, but it worked.

"Mmm. I believe it." Skyla leaned in a little closer, which was when the ladies in the kitchen started bellowing Margaritaville, making them slide apart again.

So, the band didn't know.

But obviously the women in the kitchen were a couple. They had on matching wedding rings. They had to be friendly, then. And it wasn't like Kirsten didn't scream lesbian army…

"You're thinking hard, honey." Skyla poured her another shot. "Here. One more with me."

"Mmm. I guess I am. I—are you..." She blew out a breath and then lowered her voice. "I mean, obviously you aren't out, but what is this?"

Skyla poured her a shot. "This being—" She pointed back and forth between them. At Kirsten's nod, Skyla searched her face, green eyes going dark. "This is pure want."

"Fair enough." Kirsten was not opposed to a booty call. Not at all.

"I'm not out, you're right. I mean, the band knows, but I don't want to wave it in anyone's face."

Oh, good. If the band knew, she didn't have to watch it so close with them.

"Hey, you're a famous singer. You got a whole image. I'm just a queer server in a pizza joint."

"You're not just anything. You're amazing." Skyla held up her shot, and they both threw them down.

Oh, fuck. That burned so good. All the way down.

They both took a swig of beer, then Skyla sat back. "We need to get your guitar. I mean, not right now."

"No. You promised me pasta and meatballs." And she was heading for tipsy.

"I did. And there will be garlic bread. Oh my god, Geoff makes good garlic bread."

"I'm in." Kirsten glanced around, then kissed the tip of Skyla's nose.

God, she smelled so good. Like the way it tasted to kiss a girl who smoked cloves.

Skyla just revved her engine.

"Good." Skyla touched her cheek. "But first we eat."

"Yeah. Yeah, first we eat." And sober up. She wasn't doing anything she might not remember every detail of. If she was going to get to have a one or two or whatever night stand with this woman, she wanted to have that memory to pull out years from now and look at it, dammit.

Also, at some point, she'd tell her friends about when she hooked up with a superstar.