Page 27 of High Note

“Mmm. They own this place?”

“Yep. They do all the outdoor sports. And if they don’t do it, they can contract with someone who does. They’re the ones I told you could hook you up with sleigh rides and dog sledding.”

“Neat.” It really was. She could tell by the way the people who worked here casually used the space that it was like a family, not just a company. “This has been here forever, huh?”

“Yeah. The ladies started it together, and they’ve built it and built it into this weird, wild family.”

“It looks amazing already.”

“Hey, dude! We have a real singer in our midst.” That was a youngish man with long hair and a North Face zip-up jacket, grinning at her. “Cool.”

Her cheeks pinked, but she dipped her chin. “Thanks. I’m just here to hang.”

“Oh.” His face fell. But then he gave her a hang ten sign. “I get it. A little vacay. That’s cool. Anyone want a doughnut? I brought a big box in.”

“Doughnuts!” A cry went up, and Skyla couldn’t have helped her laugh for love or money.

This was like a weird, one-off novelty song. She hummed a little to herself, and she heard Kirsten chuckle.

“Yep. Just here to hang out.”

“Hey, now. It’s just in my blood.”

Kirsten nodded, lips soft on hers for a heartbeat.

She gasped, reaching out to grab Kirsten’s arm. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to get her closer or push her away. A little thought on that made her realize she was definitely pulling.

And she wasn’t alone.

This room was filled with strangers.

But they were friendly strangers, right? Not that she was going to make out with Kirsten in front of them, but a harmless touch here and there wasn’t going to end up on TikTok.

“You don’t have to stress it, honey. You can just breathe.” Kirsten leaned back and watched her with a little half-smile.

“I’m getting that vibe, for sure. It’s weird, because I’m so used to worrying that anything I do will end up on social media.” Skyla took a deep breath, then let it out. “This is special, honey.”

“Yeah. It so is.”

Skyla peeked out the window, and the sky was going dark, like a huge thunderstorm was brewing. The chill in the air had gotten weird, too, like it was going to hail. Or that was what it would do in Texas.

“Wild, huh? Storm is coming.”

Someone started strumming a guitar, playing Bob Dylan, the sound soft and sweet.

“It’s pretty as well as ominous.” And she was suddenly thinking of Garth Brooks and “The Thunder Rolls”. That kind of atmospheric story song.

She smiled as Kirsten grabbed her guitar and started doodling, joining in like it was the most natural thing ever.

Soon enough she was humming along, but she held off singing because she didn’t want to come off as that bitch who strolled in and tried to steal the show. She wasn’t.

Someone handed her a guitar and went over to stoke the fire in the pot-bellied stove. She strummed, feeling out the tuning and the strings, then got into a rhythm with Kirsten, playing a little thump and strum to give a tum da dum to it.

Kirsten began to sing nice and low, rumbling with her whiskey-soaked voice.

They worked through “Blowin’ in the Wind”, then a John Denver song, the other kid playing with them grinning as they started to gel. Bonnie Rait next, and then Kirsten gave her a wicked smile, starting the chunky guitar sound that led into a huge Melissa Etheridge hit.

And that smile was daring her to sing it.

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