Page 54 of Darcy
“Arlo.”
I offer her a tired smile, somehow more worn out from that conversation than I was from hours of jumping around on stage. “Emma.”
“I don’t trust her.”
I shrug, used to her protectiveness. “You don’t even know her. At least give her a chance.”
“Fine. But the second I find something, you agree to run fast in the other direction. Deal?”
I shake my head. “I don’t make deals anymore. Dark was our friend before all of this—” I wave a hand at the stadium and my own, sweaty clothes. “She doesn’t care about that stuff.”
“She laughed at your art.”
I snort. “Let me guess, the one with the kneeling orc?” Emma frowns, and I shake my head. “Inside joke.”
My sister isn’t placated. I can tell by the rigid set of her shoulders.
“She doesn’t have Instagram. Or Facebook. Or even a TikTok.”
Oh, the horror.I raise one brow. “Heaven forbid. She must be an alien. You know, not everyone wants to waste their life doomscrolling.”
Personally, I leave all of the socials to our PR team. I deleted all my accounts when I first decided to give up coke as a way to remove the temptation. Ghosting everyone who was part of that scene helped a lot.
Perhaps I could’ve started new accounts again now that I’m clean, but I struggle enough dealing with what’s in my own head without adding whatever some troll thinks about me to the mix.
Though, given Emma’s phone addiction, I can see why she would think Darcy had committed some heinous crime.
“Tell her I want her to come shopping with me in Seattle.”
I can’t help but stare at her. “You want to take her shopping?”
Emma nods. “The gossip mill said her clothes were shredded. I’m your wardrobe mistress, after all. I can make sure she doesn’t drag your style down.”
A coil of dread unwinds in my stomach, and I have to fight hard to keep my grimace off my face. My sister appointed herself head of our wardrobe at sixteen years old. We let her, mainly because none of us likes shopping for ourselves, and she needed something to do in between online classes as we dragged her across the country on tour after tour. But is Darcy the type to enjoy having her clothes picked out and judged for her? I’m not even sure if she likes shopping.
“I’ll tell her.” I reach for the door handle, silently praying that Darcy forgives me for unleashing Hurricane Em into her life as I hurry after the rest of the band.
Nineteen
Darcy
Ifinish well after the rest of the band has been ushered from the arena, but when I leave the building an Uber is waiting to take me to the hotel. The receptionist doesn’t even question why she’s giving me a key to the floor where the band is staying, and before I know it, I’m in the darkened living area of yet another swanky suite.
Are they all asleep? Someone has left a lamp switched on by the couch, and my suitcase is leaning against it. I cross to my stuff on silent feet and unzip it quietly.
I’m tired, but this is a rare moment alone where I can finally get to work.
My laptop is out and fired up before I notice the list of messages on my phone.
[HzD]StoneRE1
I wanted to leave the bowl out, but the others might’ve sabotaged me *side eye emoji*
[HzD]D0dgeVip3r
Come find me I’m 1st door on the right
[HzD]StoneRE1
