Page 32 of #Moonstruck

Vince had already off-loaded our instruments and our luggage, and there was a fleet of bellhops with baggage carts waiting to help. Fitz took over, getting everything organized. As we went into the lobby, I looked for Ryan.

To my disappointment, I didn’t see him.

Which almost made me miss out on how extravagant and beautiful the lobby was. The high arched ceilings were held up by white columns, and there was a center rotunda over a fountain, flowers, and trees. For a second, I wondered what it would sound like to play in an area like this one.

Our bellhop led us to the elevator and took us up to our floor. My room was next door to Fitz’s, and Cole and Parker were directly across the hall. I opened my door while my brothers tipped the bellhop and sorted through our stuff.

“We’re going to drop off our suitcases, and then we’ll meet up in Maisy’s room to go over our set list for tonight,” Fitz instructed, but I was too busy trying to take everything in.

I had expected a standard hotel room. Bed, TV, bathroom.

What I got was a full-on luxury suite. A set of double doors as I first walked in led to a bathroom tiled with off-white and black marble. Past the bathroom was the sleeping area, with a king-size bed made up with white linens, a textured beige satin headboard that went all the way up to the ceiling, and a gray velvet bench at the foot of the bed. I dropped my carry-on there.

Because there was still more to see!

I stepped down into a sunken living room. There was a huge wraparound couch that could have easily sat my entire family, a fully stocked minibar, and a view that seemed to overlook all of Las Vegas.

My brothers and I could have shared this room. There were even two televisions. It felt like too much space for one person.

I’d left my door slightly ajar, and I heard my brothers come in.

“Not too bad, right?” Parker asked, looking out at the view with me.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” I told him.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” Fitz called out, ever the voice of reason.

Parker sat down on the couch, and Cole had his phone out. Fitz started spreading out a bunch of papers on the coffee table.

When he had sufficiently organized them, he cleared his throat. “If you guys are okay with this, I was thinking we should add Maisy’s version of ‘One More Night’ to our set list. It’s a song the audience already loves, and maybe they’ll look us up online. Get us more views on our videos, more downloads of our songs.”

“That’s a great idea, Fitz,” Parker said, and Cole nodded his head.

Logically, I could see the wisdom in it. But did I really want to sing that song over and over again? I was trying to distance myself from Ryan, not do things that would make me think about him.

I decided I needed a short mental-health break. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” I told them. “Be right back.”

After taking much longer than was necessary, I returned to the living room, where my brothers all stared at me.

For a second, I worried I had toilet paper attached to my shoe or something. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“Because we were just talking about you, so when you came in, we stopped.” Cole never could lie to me.

My other brothers responded to that with “Seriously, dude?” and “Way to go, WikiLeaks.”

Something was very off. “I thought we agreed I was an adult and should be treated like one. What’s going on?” We hadn’t been out of California long, but my thoughts immediately turned to my mother, and fear clung to my heart like plastic wrap. “Is Mom okay?”

“Mom’s fine,” Fitz said. “I mean, I’m sure she’s fine. I haven’t heard anything. It’s just ... remember how I told you about our financial issues? There was something I didn’t tell you.”

A brick formed in my throat and slowly drifted down until it settled deep in my stomach. “What?”

He exchanged glances with Parker. “We’re three months behind in paying for Mom’s facility. And if we don’t come up with the money by next Friday, they might kick her out.”

“How could you not tell me about this?”

“I thought getting this job would solve all our problems.” Fitz looked down at his hands, not making eye contact. “But because tonight is our first performance, we won’t see a paycheck for at least two weeks. I’ve been trying to work something out with the facility’s administrator, but he’s not budging.”

It would make more sense to ask the tour manager for an advance. I could see why Fitz wouldn’t want to do that. It might make us seem like more trouble than we were worth.

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