Page 81 of Sweet Temptation
Elodie and I smile at each other and hand her our menus. “Can I have a cheeseburger and fries with ranch on the side, a glass of water, and a large strawberry milkshake, please?” Elodie asks.
“Sure can. And what about you, hon?” she asks me.
“Chicken Caesar wrap, no cheese, with onion rings, and a glass of iced tea, please?”
“No problem, ladies. I’ll be back in a jiff with those drinks.” She takes the menus and shoves her pad in her apron as she goes, and I settle in, wanting to hear everything.
“So. What was it like?” I push her.
“It was rough. I thought after all these years, I knew what to expect, but when it’s your music, it’s all different. Uncle Jack was great to work with, but I had no idea he could be such a hard-ass. He was always the fun one.”
“I have a hard time picturing Jack Madden, lead singer of Six Day War, as a hard-ass. Whenever I’ve been around him, he’s been a big softie.” They’re one of the biggest bands in the world and have been for two decades. And Jack Madden is one of my mom’s closest friends. Elodie’s mom and mine were roommates in college before her mom dropped out to manage Six Day War.
The rest of the world might see Jack Madden, the rock star, but to me, he’ll always just be Elodie’s uncle. The guy who brought me backstage at my first concert when I was ten.
“That’s because he is a softie about everything other than music. He says this industry is hard, and you have to be harder.” She bites down on her bottom lip and winces. “And I think he’s right. So I decided to do something crazy.”
The waitress reappears with our drinks and drops them on the table, but I don’t touch mine. I don’t move, while I wait for Elodie to tell me what she’s talking about. She’s probably the least dramatic person I’ve ever known, so my heart sinks as I wait to hear what she says.
“I decided to shop around for a label and not use Uncle Jack’s. If this industry is as cutthroat as they say, the last thing I want is for the world to think I got my deal because of who I am.”
My jaw drops. Literally hangs open. “Are you crazy? First, you’re amazing. You’ve been writing music as far back as I can remember. Why do you care what people think? Half my family plays football for my uncle’s team. Do you think they care what people said about them?”
“Lex, most places aren’t like this town. And to be honest, yeah, I do think they cared. How could they not? They might have acted like it didn’t bother them, but I bet it did. I don’t wantanyone to think my career was handed to me when I’ve been working my ass off for as long as I can remember, trying to get here.”
“Okay, so what’s your next move then?” I ask, and my mouth waters as our food is placed in front of us. Elodie hands me the ketchup before I even ask, and I push the salt and pepper her way, years of friendship showing in every move.
“I want to get out of the city for a while. I want to write different music. I basically want to scrap everything I just did and start over fresh,” she tells me as she drags a fry through her ranch. “And I want to do it here, in Kroydon Hills.”
“Wow. That’s a big move for you.” Elodie has always been a city girl. She and her mother have had a penthouse in Philadelphia for years. And while she’s always driven into Kroydon Hills to see me and hang out with the girls, she’s never lived here. This town is a little too slow-paced for someone who was homeschooled her whole life and traveled the world with Six Day War. She’s always liked the excitement she liked to tease we’d never have here. “You don’t think you’d be bored?”
“I’m kinda hoping I am. I want to change things up. My music. My life. Myself. Reinvent myself, I think. I thought this could be a good start.” She steals an onion ring from my plate and tears it in half. “So, will you help me?”
“Of course I’ll help. I’m not sure how though,” I admit, a little thrown.
“I need a place to live.”
Oh. Well, that’s not what I was expecting. “I mean, Lochlan’s room is empty.”
“I mean will you come with me to meet with my realtor? She’s going to show me a few houses.” She hands me a fry and smiles. “Please?”
“That I can do. When?” I ask, a little relieved she doesn’t want to move in. I love her, but Elodie has never picked up after herself a single day in her life.
“Today. In an hour.” She winces. “Please don’t say no. I promise to have you home before the game starts.”
“Sure. Why not?” I tear off a bite of my wrap and drag it through the extra dressing lining the plate. “But I have to be home by four.”
“Promise. I think we’ve got four to look at today, and they’re not far. Now thatthat’ssettled, your turn. I want to hear everything I’ve missed while I was in the studio. How are things going with your new living arrangements?”
I catch my lip between my teeth and look at my honorary big sister, thinking about everything that’s changed. How I’ve changed. How Lucky has helped me change. “I’ve got so much to catch you up on.”
Five hours later, we sit side by side on my couch, cheering on Lucky and the guys as I tell Elodie all about her new neighbors.
LUCKY
The sun is rising when I pull the blanket back and see my gorgeous girl sleeping soundly in my jersey, in my bed, just like she was told. Her hair is a mass of beautiful blonde waves spread out against the dark gray sheets. But even in her sleep, she’s more pale than she was when I left thirty-six hours ago.
Fuck cystic fibrosis, and fuck what it takes from her body every day.
