Page 73 of Heartland
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Dylan!” she gasps. “Really? You slept with our virginal neighbor who thinks you’re a God among men?”
“She doesnotthink that,” I argue. And then I realize I contradicted the wrong thing. “Just stop, okay? Don’t pry. I have to go home for the weekend and fix this.”
Daphne laughs. “What would Leah say?”
“Nothing good,” I admit. “And you’re not going to tell her.”
“I think we can help each other,” Daphne says. “I’m coming to visit. But I have no money, so I can’t take you and your roommates out to dinner as payment.”
“You could cook, though,” I point out.
“I suppose. But I was going to offer to help you make goat’s milk caramels.”
“Where? We need a state-certified kitchen.”
“Better get on that, then,” Daphne says. “I’m coming Friday night. My meeting is on Saturday.”
“Your meeting,” I repeat slowly.
“See you soon,” my sister says. Then she hangs up.
I let out a loud groan. “My family are the pushiest assholes in the world.”
“Your family are the nicest people alive,” Rickie says without looking up from his book.
“Does this mean you’re playing the gig Friday night?” Keith asks. “I’ll put up with Daphne if it means I can get paid.”
“Maybe,” I hedge. I tap my brother’s number on the phone, hoping that it goes to voicemail. Or that Audrey picks up. She’s more fun to talk to.
No such luck. “Dylan,” my brother answers on the first ring. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“It’s about the weekend,” I say.
“Yeah, I thought I might hear from you. Daphne wants to stay with you in Burlington, right?”
“Apparently.”
He grunts. “See if you can figure out what’s wrong with her, okay? She sounds rough.”
“Okay.” Although I’m literally the last person my sister will ever confide in. “I’ll try?”
“You do that. I’m counting on it.”
That’s my brother—always sticking his nose in everyone’s business. “Talk soon.”
“You bet,” he says with a weary sigh. Then we hang up.
“Yesssss!” Keith says, pumping the air. “I heard every word. And now you have to play this gig with me.”
And write Chastity another email saying that now wecan’tgo home for the weekend. Fuck my life.
“There wasn’t any yelling,” Rickie points out. “There’s usually more yelling when Griffin is on the phone.”
“Just wait until you meet Dylan’s sister. She’s like the anti-Dylan. Uptight as fuck. You’ll hear some yelling.”
Rickie puts his feet up on the coffee table. “This is going to be a really interesting weekend.”
