Текст книги "Insider"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

May 6

Dear Journal,

Busy, busy day. We started with an album signing, and then everyone participated in a crazy sound check that was a lot of fun. I’m sure the stuff with Mad Dog and Rebekah is going to turn out awesome in the book. I interviewed a few fans backstage and got footage of Logan enjoying a mosh pit before I was tackled to the stage. I hurt my pride more than my ass, but unfortunately my glasses ended up broken. Somehow Logan found some superglue and fixed them for me. He’s such a sweetie. Don’t tell him I said that. Apparently he got stuck in his stage chute and they had to use a ladder to rescue him. Poor baby. He brushed it off as funny, but I’m sure it was scary.

So can you believe this? Mom is bringing Birdie and Susan to Denver in two days. Between now and then I have to get some really good, usable material about each of the band members and start organizing my data. I have a lot of work to do in a short amount of time, so I probably won’t write much over the next few days.

Oh, Logan’s done with his shower. Time for bed. Don’t wait up.

Overwhelmed-but-determined,

Toni

May 7

Dear Journal,

I didn’t get much sleep last night. And not because I was working. Logan surprised me with a sex pop quiz, and I had to demonstrate all the things he’s taught me so far. By the time I was finished with him, he said I definitely earned my A. So I was a bit tired all day.

We’re in Salt Lake City now. The band had a signing at a guitar store today. Sinners, Riott Actt, and Twisted Element were all there too. A lot of people brought their guitars to be signed by a favorite band member or sometimes the whole band or sometimes every musician present. Some fans forked out hundreds of dollars to buy guitars at the store to have signed. I didn’t know each band member has licensed instruments on sale to the public. The guys designed the shapes and colors of the guitars themselves. More stuff for the book! The event was great fun, as usual. I really enjoyed watching Dare and Trey interact. They’re so close. Almost as close as Birdie and I. I used to think that was common, but I’m starting to see the bond we share is truly special.

And I guess I’ll get to see her in Denver day after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to seeing her, but not Mom so much. When she told me she was coming, I was so pissed that I—Well, I didn’t really do anything. But next time I see her . . . Right. I probably won’t do anything then either. Or maybe I will. I’m just not sure what yet. And poor Birdie. Mom knows she hates flying, so why is she subjecting her to it? I texted her and told her she didn’t have to come, that I can email her sample pages of the book if she needs evidence that I’m working. She said it was too late, she’d already bought the tickets. And Susan is coming too. Ugh! I’m not sure if I’ll be able to tolerate her abuse. I don’t have to take her shit, right? Right. Still, I’d rather get her off my case in a nonconfrontational manner. She scares the piss out of me.

Logan’s at the after-party right now. I watched him play live tonight. God, he’s amazing. He was so sexy, I jumped his bones as soon as he came off the stage. I hoped he would skip the party and stay on the bus with me, but he wanted to go celebrate. I don’t know where the man gets all his energy. I’m not upset that he goes partying with Steve and the rest of the guys after their shows, just baffled by how they manage to keep going. I suppose at some point I’ll have to find the energy to attend another one of those things for the book. I didn’t stay long enough at the first one to get the full experience.

Tomorrow we drive to Denver. The guys have agreed to write out the answers to all of Susan’s questions. Except Logan. Logan said he wouldn’t answer any of them unless I was naked and I asked in a sexy voice. He’s such a tease!

Still waiting for him to admit he has feelings for me, but I’m content with things the way they are for now.

I won’t always be this patient. I need to hear him admit he loves me almost as much as I need to tell him how I feel.

I’m going to bed now. I need to get up early and practice my seductive interviewer voice.

Toni

May 8

Dear Journal,

So the wonderful man who is currently snoring across the room helped me put together a portfolio. So far I have several pages for each band member and a backstage section and one for live in concert. I also have a folder full of clips and photos that I can use later. We had to sort out the good from the bad, such as me ass-planting on the stage—I didn’t realize I’d taken a picture on the way down. Haha! And all of the incriminating stuff they don’t want in the book? I’ve hidden that away. There’s a lot of it. There’s actually more of that kind of material than stuff I can use. But that’s okay; no one has to know but me. Susan can gloat that it seems like I haven’t gotten much work done this week. I don’t care. If the finished product is garbage—and I guarantee it won’t be—then she can complain. Until then she can shut the fuck up.

Wow. Not sure where all this anger is coming from. I guess the high from smoking pot wears off quickly. Logan talked me into smoking a little. I don’t think I’ll do it again. It wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be. But food does taste really good. All I wanted to do was eat and lounge around. It was a good way to unwind after finishing the portfolio. And the sex afterwards was as good as always, but Logan fell asleep right after. He’s usually good to a go a few times before he crashes. I think he does need these off days to unwind.

The guys were great about answering Susan’s questions. They passed my laptop around and filled in the blanks as we drove from Salt Lake to Denver. I honestly can’t believe how good they are to me. I thought they’d treat me cordially at best or disdainfully at worst, but they make me feel like I’m a part of their group. Reagan says we’re going to go clothes shopping when we’re in New Orleans next week. I wonder if that’s her way of politely saying my wardrobe sucks.

Well, I’d better head to bed. Not sure if I’ll be able to sleep. I’m still a little worried that Mom will say I haven’t done enough work and let Susan take my place. I’m not sure how I’ll handle that situation. I’m not ready to leave yet. Those feelings have a lot to do with the job, but much more to do with Logan. Eventually this job will end and then what? Do we go our separate ways?

I don’t want to think about it today.

And unlike Scarlett O’Hara, I don’t want to think about it tomorrow either.

Good night. Wish me luck!

Toni

 

Twenty-Six

Toni answered her phone, glad it was her mother’s name on caller ID and not Susan. She had her presentation ready to go, but she was not ready to face the woman.

“We’re down in the lobby,” Mom said. “Why don’t you come meet us for breakfast?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Logan rubbed at the tension knot between her shoulders. “Your editor?”

Toni shook her head. “My mother. She wants me to come down for breakfast.”

“Am I invited?” Logan asked.

Toni smiled. “Do you want to be invited?”

“I’m not sure. Is she going to rip my balls off, toss them on the floor, and stomp on them?”

Toni covered his crotch with a hand. “I’ll protect you from her wrath.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Just let me get my shoes.”

When they reached the hotel lobby a few minutes later, Toni didn’t have to bother searching the expansive area for her party. Birdie’s loud mantra of “Toni, Toni, Toni!” immediately alerted her to her mother and sister’s location.

She took a few steps in that direction, very conscious of the fact that her hand, which Logan was gripping rather tightly, was suddenly damp. She wasn’t sure if it was her nervousness or Logan’s resulting in a sweaty palm, but she didn’t have long to ponder it as Birdie dashed across the lobby and threw her arms around her waist, squeezing her breathless.

“Oh, Toni! I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, Buttercup,” Toni said, releasing Logan’s hand so she could give her sister a proper hug. Birdie tilted her face up to grin that winning smile of hers at Toni. Toni couldn’t help but smile back and give one of her light brown pigtails an affectionate tug. Birdie had a smudge of what was probably chocolate at the corner of her mouth, which Toni took to cleaning with her spit-moistened thumb. Birdie didn’t protest. She was used to Toni cleaning her face with spit. And tissues. And hems of T-shirts. The occasional dish towel.

Mom followed at a more socially appropriate pace. In heels and an expensive navy-blue pantsuit, she looked as well put together as she always did. Her silver hair was cut in a smart bob, and even in her midfifties, she was still turning heads.

When she reached the small group, she touched Toni’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Her gaze, however, was trained on the gorgeous man standing just behind Toni.

“You look familiar,” Mom said to Logan.

“He’s a rock star,” Birdie said helpfully. “But not the pretty one.”

Toni chuckled. When Toni had explained to Birdie why she was leaving for a while, she’d given Birdie a picture of Exodus End to familiarize her with the reason she was going. Birdie had immediately taken to Steve, who had long hair and thus was pretty.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” Logan fluttered his eyelashes at her.

Birdie tucked in her chin and appraised him closely. “No. You’re a boy.”

“Steve is a boy too,” Toni said.

Birdie scowled as she tried to assimilate this information into her ideas of boys and girls.

“Don’t worry about it,” Logan said. “I mistake him for a girl all the time.”

Birdie beamed at him and took his hand in both of hers, instantly finding a new friend. “You are so funny.”

“So which one are you?” Mom asked.

Logan gave one of Birdie’s pigtails a tug—which made her giggle—and then lifted his gaze to Mom’s curious stare.

“I’m just the bassist,” Logan said with a heartthrob of a grin.

“This is Logan Schmidt,” Toni said. “This is my mother, Eloise Nichols, and my little sister, Bernadette.”

“Birdie!” Birdie corrected, staring up at Logan worshipfully. “I can’t say Birdadent right.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nichols,” Logan said, lifting his left hand for a shake since Birdie was gripping his right. “And Birdadent.” He tugged her pigtail again.

Watching him interact with Birdie had Toni melting into a puddle of sentimental goo. So many people tried to ignore her because they were uncomfortable with her condition, but he’d already won Birdie’s heart. And her big sister’s too.

“You said it wrong,” Birdie said.

“That’s a hard name to say,” Logan said. “I think Birdie suits you better anyway. Can you whistle like a bird?”

Logan whistled a tune. And Birdie rounded her mouth and blew soundless air.

“Let’s go find a seat in the dining room,” Mom said. They turned in the direction of delicious breakfast smells—bacon, sausage, biscuits, and cinnamon.

Logan and Birdie ambled ahead, Logan offering instructions on whistling, Birdie too happy for his attention to get frustrated that it didn’t come easy for her.

“Are you seeing that man?” Mom asked, nodding in Logan’s direction.

“Sort of,” Toni said, realizing too late that she wasn’t prepared to answer questions about her undefined relationship with Logan.

“Does he have a degree?”

“You mean, like, college?”

“That’s exactly what I, like, mean.”

Toni resisted the urge to cringe. She’d been hanging around normal people too long. Her use of language had already slipped and her mother—being the CEO of a publishing company and having a Ph.D. in literature and a bachelor’s degree in English—had always been a stickler for the use of proper grammar. Like was like her least favorite modifier ever.

“He doesn’t really need a degree, does he? He’s a rock star.”

“What can you two possibly have in common?”

Good question.

“You’ll become bored with him quickly.”

He was more likely to become bored with her, Toni mused.

“We’re having fun together. I thought you wanted me to get out and experience life,” Toni reminded her.

“Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I’m having an awful time balancing the corporation and the household and meeting Birdie’s needs. Unlike your father, I never was good at the domestic stuff.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I want you to come home. Birdie needs you.”

Toni gaped at her. So that was why her mother had brought Birdie with her? So she could guilt her into coming home early no matter how well she’d progressed with the book?

“You need to figure out how to care for Birdie, Mom. She’s your daughter.”

“I’m trying. She’s just . . .”

She gazed across the nearly empty dining room at her younger daughter, who had her nose pressed against the sneeze guard of the buffet as she eyed the available dishes. Logan stood nearby, keeping an eye on her and shooting Toni questioning looks.

“She’s a handful, Toni.”

“Is this supposed to be news to me? I practically raised her myself.”

“I understand why you want to get away from her—”

“I don’t want to get away from her,” Toni interrupted. “I just want you to take responsibility for her for a change.”

“Toni, can I have pancakes?” Birdie yelled.

“Go sit at the table, Buttercup,” Toni called, not wanting her to overhear the conversation she was having with their mother. “Logan will help you pick out something to drink.”

Toni was sorry to put Logan on the spot like that, but he didn’t seem to mind as he ushered Birdie to the table and then, with a napkin over his forearm, bowed to her like a garcon offering champagne.

“Maybe she can stay with you,” her mother said.

“On a tour bus?” Was her mother insane? She had to realize what went on in those tour bus lounges. “Besides, she has summer school,” Toni said.

“A lot of good an education is going to do her. She’s perpetually five.”

School had done wonders for Birdie—especially her language skills—but this wasn’t really about Birdie. It was about her mother.

“A lot of good an education is going to do me as your lifelong housekeeper and nanny.” Toni had never spoken to her mother so brusquely in her life. She stalked off before her obviously stunned mother could close her gaping mouth.

“You are so funny!” Birdie said to Logan as Toni flopped down in the chair next to her. The table was square, which meant she didn’t have to decide if she should sit next to Birdie or Logan—she could sit between them. But that also meant her mother sat across from her, so she’d be forced to look at her while she ate.

“Your glasses,” Mom said. She set the case down next to Toni’s plate.

Toni replaced her glued pair with the ones in the case. These weren’t her favorite frames, but at least they weren’t broken.

“I really wish you would get Lasik,” her mother said. “You have such a pretty face. It’s a shame to cover it behind those glasses. Don’t you think so, Logan?”

Logan jerked slightly. Why had Mom put him on the spot?

“She’s stunning with or without glasses,” Logan said. “But I think she should stick with whatever makes her comfortable.”

Birdie giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, blushing ferociously.

“I think he likes you, Toni,” Birdie said with another bashful giggle.

“Of course I like her,” Logan said.

Why else would he be willing to subject himself to breakfast with her family?

“We’ve become fast friends,” he added.

Toni frowned at the napkin folded on her plate. Fast, maybe, but still just friends. Wonderful.

Their waitress appeared and Mom started her typical order of poached egg, no salt; whole grain toast, no butter; fresh fruit; and sliced tomatoes.

“I want pancakes,” Birdie said.

“You don’t need all that sugar,” Mom said. “You can have oatmeal.”

Birdie scrunched up her nose.

“How about we get the buffet?” Toni suggested, knowing Birdie would rather not eat than have oatmeal. They had fought this battle a thousand times in the past.

“That’s what I’m having,” Logan said.

“Coffee?” their server asked.

“Decaf,” Mom said.

“Can I have some?” Birdie asked.

“No. You can have milk.”

“Chocolate milk?”

“You don’t need—”

“The occasional treat won’t hurt her,” Toni butted in.

“She will have plain, skim milk,” Mom said.

Birdie made a face of disgust. “Yuck.”

“And what will you have to drink?” the waitress asked Logan with a flirty smile.

“I think I’m going to need a fifth of whiskey.”

“Jack Daniels okay?” the waitress asked, writing on her order pad.

Logan glanced sidelong at Toni. She knew he was joking—trying to reduce the tension at the table—but apparently no one else realized it.

“Change that to orange juice,” he said.

“With vodka?” The waitress glanced up from her notepad.

“Just orange juice.”

“It’s okay. Butch said I should get you anything you want, sir. I won’t judge.” She smiled at him.

“Musicians don’t really drink hard liquor with their breakfast,” he said.

She opened her mouth to argue, but Logan interrupted.

“I don’t drink hard liquor with my breakfast. I was joking about the whiskey.”

The waitress shrugged and turned to go, but Logan caught her sleeve. “You didn’t ask Toni what she’s having.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have overlooked you.”

Story of her life.

“Chai latte,” Toni said.

“Got it. Just help yourselves to the buffet.” She touched Mom’s shoulder. “And I’ll have your special order out as soon as possible, ma’am.”

The three of them left Mom sitting at the table conducting business on her smart phone.

“So the editor chick didn’t come after all?” Logan asked in a low voice while Birdie tried to add individual grapes to her plate with a spoon. “We could have used last night for fun instead of work.”

“She’s here; I’m sure I’ll get to deal with her after breakfast.” Scowling, Toni heaped several more sausage links onto her plate. “Do you know why my mother came?”

“To bring your glasses?”

“No, she’s trying to guilt me into coming home early. She doesn’t want to deal with Birdie on her own,” Toni hissed. It felt good to confide these things to a live person. Perhaps she didn’t need her journal anymore.

Logan turned his head to scratch his beard scruff on his shoulder so he could peek at Mom. “She seems perfectly in control.”

“Exactly. Dad used to even her out and make her relax, but since he died, she’s become so engrossed with her work, she won’t even take the time to raise her own daughter.”

“Sounds like she’s still mourning.”

His simple statement punched Toni in the gut and stole her breath. Maybe it hadn’t been ambition that had driven her mom to choose work over family. Maybe it had been grief.

“Do you think I should go home?” she asked.

“No,” he said, placing a biscuit on his plate with a pair of tongs and then adding one to Toni’s plate as well. “And I don’t say that for selfish reasons. Though I would if it came to that. I think she needs to face the reality of raising a daughter without your father instead of dumping the responsibility on you.”

“But I feel so guilty.”

“That’s because you’re a sweetheart.”

“Is Toni your sweetheart?” Birdie asked, her three hard-won grapes rolling around on her plate. Toni could have helped her fill her plate, but she wouldn’t unless asked. A lot of everyday tasks were challenging for Birdie, but she accepted her difficulties and took them in stride. She’d rather struggle a little than depend on others to do everything for her. It had taken Toni a while to figure out why Birdie would get so mad when Toni took over every task in order to complete them more efficiently. Birdie just wanted to do things herself no matter how time consuming or frustrating.

“Yep,” Logan said. “Toni is everyone’s sweetheart.”

Birdie scowled. “Are you a slut, Toni?”

Toni gaped at her. “Where did you hear that word?”

“At school. Jill has a lot of sweethearts. Ashley said it’s because she’s a slut.”

Ah, the joys of an all-inclusive classroom.

“That’s not a nice word to call someone,” Toni said. “I don’t want you to use it again.”

Birdie’s near-constant smile faded. “It’s a bad word?”

“A very bad word.”

“Toni only has one sweetheart,” Logan said.

“Is it Spiderman?”

Toni snorted. Where had she come up with that? “No, not Spiderman.”

“Better not be.” Logan scowled. “Slinging his sticky webs all over the city. It’s not decent, I say.”

Birdie giggled and tilted her head, a bashful blush on her round cheeks. “I joking. I know Logan is Toni’s sweetheart.”

Toni was glad someone was sure about that.

After they’d filled their plates, they returned to the table.

“You’re not really going to eat all of that, are you?” Mom asked, shaking her head at Toni’s overflowing plate.

Toni was admittedly a stress eater and yes, she was going to eat every bite of her high-fat, high-starch, high-protein breakfast.

“I’m hungry,” Toni said.

Mom eyed Toni’s waistline, which had never been as trim as her own, but Toni wasn’t yet ripping the seams out of her skirt. She speared one of her sausage links and bit into it angrily. Stress eating at its finest.

“I really don’t think you need that much food,” Mom persisted.

“Are you insinuating that she’s fat?” Logan asked.

“She will be if she eats like that.”

“I’m fat,” Birdie said, hanging her head.

“You’re beautiful,” Logan said, “just like your big sister.” He tugged on one of Birdie’s pigtails, and she grinned.

If the man didn’t stop making Birdie light up like warm summer sunshine, Toni was going to tackle-hug him out of his chair right in front of everyone.

Logan tilted his head toward their mother. “And it’s plain to see where both of you got your good looks.”

Most mothers would have taken that as a compliment, but not her mom. Oh no. Comparing her to her frumpy older daughter and her special needs younger daughter was obviously an insult. Toni blew out a breath and dug into her biscuits and gravy. At this rate, she’d be heading to the buffet for seconds.

“After breakfast, Susan will be meeting us in the conference room down the hall,” Mom said. “I invited her to breakfast, but she said she wasn’t hungry.”

Toni tried not to frown at the news. But her presentation was ready, so hopefully this impromptu and completely ridiculous meeting would be over quickly. If all Mom had wanted was to make her feel guilty over Birdie, why had she insisted on bringing Susan along? Toni was pretty sure that Susan was her plan B, in case her guilt trip of a plan A failed to entice Toni to go home.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” Logan asked.

Toni glanced at him. Weren’t they going to spend the afternoon in bed? She was ready for another marathon session of lessons. They scarcely had time for sex on concert days.

“We need to be at the airport around five,” Mom said. “We have an evening flight.”

They weren’t even staying one night? Toni was starting think her Mom had completely lost it.

“Toni and I are heading to the track in a couple hours. If you want to come—”

“What track?” Toni asked, picturing herself running along behind him, panting from exertion. Running was not her idea of a good time.

“Motocross. They have a fantastic track set up just outside the city. Every time the band tours here, I burn energy on a bike.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy watching him zoom around in a circle on a dirt bike, but she did want to spend time with him and participate in his interests as much as possible.

“I want to go!” Birdie said. “I can ride a bike.”

“He means a motorcycle,” Toni said.

“He said bike.”

“Sorry, I should have clarified,” Logan said. He pulled out his phone and started flipping through his photos. “I’ll show you what I mean.”

He passed his phone to Toni, and she was stunned by how hot he looked in a form-fitting racing suit with knee and elbow pads. In the photo, Logan was leaning against a red mud-flecked dirt bike, holding his helmet against his hip. Did the man always look devastatingly gorgeous? She was going with a definite yes on that.

“Let me see!” Birdie yelled, startling Toni out of her musing.

“Bernadette, keep your voice down at the table,” Mom scolded.

Toni handed Logan’s phone to Birdie, who sat on her opposite side. “Oh, that’s a big bike,” she whispered. She touched the phone’s screen and scowled. “Who is this girl?” she asked.

Logan’s eyes widened and he jumped up so fast, his thighs hit the underside of the table, rattling dishes. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said as he grabbed the phone out of Birdie’s hand.

“She had no shirt on,” Birdie informed the table, looking with wide eyes from Toni to her mother. “I saw her boobies!”

Mom laughed, for whatever reason finding this—of all things—hilarious.

“That was taken months ago,” Logan said, inching down in his seat as if trying to slide under the table.

“Why are you looking at her boobies for, Logan?” Birdie asked.

“I’m not.”

His face was beet red, and Toni enjoyed watching him squirm. She was sure he’d seen thousands of boobies in his life, and she doubted he’d regretted viewing a single one until called on it by a nine-year-old with Down’s syndrome.

“Did you look at Toni’s boobies too? She has great big ones!”

Logan glanced at Toni out the corner of his eye before snorting on a laugh. “I didn’t notice.”

“Bernadette, this is not an appropriate conversation to have at the breakfast table,” Mom said, though she was still grinning ear to ear.

Birdie ducked her head in shame. “Sorry.”

Toni touched the back of Birdie’s head. “Eat your breakfast.”

They somehow got through the meal with their relationship intact. Logan had to listen to a long-winded, one-sided conversation about raising chickens, but at least Birdie was no longer asking questions about boobies. Thank God.

After breakfast, Mom pointed out the conference room where they would meet shortly. Toni and Logan headed upstairs to collect the messenger bag where she’d stashed her laptop.

“Sorry you had to deal with that,” Toni said to him.

“I didn’t mind,” he assured her, drawing her against him for a much too short kiss. “It’s kind of nice to recognize the dysfunction in other people’s families.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, and she smacked his ass. “Are you insulting my family?”

“Birdie is a sweetheart.”

“And now you’re trying to change the subject?”

“Yep.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I need to go hunt down Butch and have him arrange a morning at the track. Will you be okay alone with your mother and the dragon lady?”

His concern touched her far more than it should. “I’ll be fine.”

“After this day is over, I think a full body massage will be in order.”

She sighed in bliss, already imagining the feel of his hands on her tense muscles. “That sounds wonderful.”

“I can’t wait. I have to warn you, though—I’ll probably fall asleep.”

She lifted a brow at him. “How can you fall asleep while giving a massage?”

“Giving one? I’ll be on the receiving end.”

He danced sideways as she reached out to swat his butt again.

“Tease!” she accused.

“Is that a challenge?”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about his raised eyebrows and crooked grin. What did he mean by challenge? How could being teased by him be a challenge? She didn’t have time to ponder or question; she had a presentation to give.

“Text me when you’re finished,” he said. “Or if you need rescuing.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, more for personal assurance than for his benefit.

“I know you will. I have faith in your abilities.”

She hadn’t had anyone say something like that to her since her father had passed away. She wasn’t sure how sincerely Logan meant his words, but they gave her the fortitude to straighten her spine and head to the conference room with a confident smile on her face.

Her smile faltered when she entered the room and saw her mother and Susan with their heads together, talking in low tones, looking like they were plotting the crime of the century. At the far end of the room, Birdie was drawing rainbows on the dry erase board, her tongue protruding from between her lips as she concentrated on the curved lines.

Toni bumped into a chair, which drew everyone’s attention.

“There you are,” Mom said. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“. . . in your rock star’s bed.” Susan grinned.

She wished. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Toni pulled out her laptop and booted it up. She connected it to her small portable projector and lowered a screen from the ceiling. Birdie frowned at her as the screen slid down in front of the dry erase board before edging behind it to continue drawing rainbows.

“Birdie, come out of there. I need to use the screen.”

“I’m bored,” Birdie said, and Toni could hear the pout in her tone. “I wanna draw.”

“I have paper and pens in my bag. Draw on that until I’m done.”

Generally cooperative, Birdie did what she was told. Toni handed her bag to Birdie, and Birdie sat cross-legged in the corner, digging through the bag hunting for treasure.

“Why are you setting up for a presentation?” Susan asked. The derisive tone of her voice wasn’t lost on Toni.

“I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on so you have a better idea how the book is coming along.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Susan said.

Toni scrunched her brows together. She was at a complete loss.

“Then why are you here?”

“Your mother and I have been talking about the direction of the book,” Susan said. “We think it will sell more copies if—”

“Let’s see what Toni’s been working on first,” Mom interrupted.

Toni offered her mom a relieved smile and opened the first mocked-up page she’d created the night before. It was a table of contents.

“I’m sure some of these topics will change as I continue on tour with the band. The longer I’m with them, the more ideas I get. I’ll start with their history, the formation of the band in their own words. Dare saves band memorabilia. He said I can use reproductions in the book if I can secure the rights from the copyright holders.”

“Sounds expensive,” Mom said.

“According to him, it shouldn’t cost us anything. We’ll have to credit the photos to the photographer, but most of the photos were taken by friends and family. He doubts they’ll be interested in money.”

“Everyone is interested in money,” Susan said.

“A lot of people are just happy to help the people they love,” Toni said, trying not to glare at the woman.

“Yeah. Until money’s involved.”