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She lifts her shoulder and offers us a weak smile. “This baby is sucking the creativity out of my brain. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” I pause and look at Justine before turning my attention back to Elle. “I fear if Justine and I cut an album, our respective bands will feel left out or hurt.”
“I get it,” Elle says as she stands. “I’ll work out the logistics. As is, this is what, your fifth collab?”
I hadn’t counted, but I nod in agreement.
“Right, so it comes down to performing for the audience or making money. Let me know, and I’ll figure out the rest for you.”
As soon as she shuts the door, Justine speaks up. “I’m not like you, Quinn,” she says quietly.
I don’t need her to tell me our financial situation is different. I know it is.
“How will Wynonna and Priscilla feel?”
Justine shrugs. “I think they’d do the same thing, given a chance.”
I think anyone would, and it’s not like I’m turning my back on Sinful Distraction. They’ll always be my band. If I were to do something with Justine, it would be a side gig. And I wouldn’t be the first musician to do something like this. Besides, it’s not like this would be out of the ordinary. Many artists have collaborated or even started other bands while still leading their own.
“I think we should get through the tour first. This needs to be our priority, and then we’ll get into the studio when we get back. We can record in Beaumont, and Liam will produce the record for us.”
Justine beams. “Sounds like a plan.”
Our tour busstops in front of an Italian restaurant. Elle leads us off, like schoolchildren told to follow in a single-file line. Only, we’re adults who are in a rock band who are not able to obey a simple rule, scattering on the sidewalk while we wait for everyone to disembark.
We huddle together and wait for the manager or owner to come out. “I’m going to lead you to the back room, where you’ll have privacy,” he says. “We’ll have security at the door, and the only people allowed back will be the four servers assigned to you for the night.”
“Thank you,” Elle says. She follows behind the manager, with our own security team bringing up the rear. Everyone’s having dinner tonight with us: our road crew, bus driver, security team, and any friends and family who are at this stop. This is something Elle’s wanted to do for a while now, but it’s not always easy finding a restaurant that can host all of us for three to four hours.
It takes a moment for someone to recognize one of us. The first one who does calls out Dana’s name, and then it’s Justine’s, Hendrix’s, and finally mine. I’m at least a bit jealous it took someone a handful of minutes to recognize me.
We’re shown to the back room, where the servers wait. We also have our own bartender. While Elle talks to the manager, we scatter and pick seats, like we’re the first ones in the cafeteria and need to beat everyone.
I choose a table nearest the bar, determined to drink away my worries. The almost moment with Justine earlier weighs heavily on my mind. I’m in love with Nola . . . or am I? I entertained the idea of letting another woman kiss me, and myrecollection tells me I had zero intention of moving away from her.
What does that say about me? And my professed love and longing for a woman who left me a measly note and her engagement ring? A woman who hasn’t called or texted, who hasn’t cared about me, my well-being, or even my state of mind?
Not that I’ve put in an effort, but in my defense, I’m giving her the space she asked for.
Space I didn’t ask for.
I asked for none of this.
Ben sits down next to me, as does Keane. I’m relieved. I’ll have the chill table, the one with the boss, whom everyone wants to avoid, which isn’t fair to my sister. She’s a damn good manager and has definitely made a name for herself in the business.
And not a single time has she used our dad’s name to further her career or mine. Still, that doesn’t keep the tabloids and social media influencers from calling us nepo babies. While, yes, our dad is famous, we didn’t use him.
Or did we?
The server comes to the table and takes our drink orders. Elle sighs heavily and rubs her bump.
“Is my niece or nephew kicking?”
Elle nods. “And giving me indigestion. I never knew what heartburn was until I woke up in the middle of the night gagging. My throat was on fire.”
“Chandler’s mom had a bad case of heartburn when she was pregnant with her. She couldn’t eat or drink anything without acid building up. She was miserable,” Keane says.
“Where is Chandler?” Elle sits up and looks around the room.