Where there was no one expecting something from me.
Hunger dragged me out of sleep in the middle of the night. I snuck downstairs like when I’d been a teen. When the music had been so loud I couldn’t sleep through the night. The temptation to slip into my music room was heavy on my shoulders, but I followed my grumbling belly to the kitchen.
My mother, the angel she was, left a plate under foil. I picked at the cold pasta and checked my phone.
It was a little after two in the morning in New York, but Cindy was home in the Pacific Northwest. I tried a Facetime call to see if she’d pick up. Her sweet, freckled face popped on my screen a second later. Her kinky red hair was scraped into two space buns, and she was wearing one of her footie pajama onesies. This one was Eeyore with a hood.
“Hey. You’re alive.”
I climbed onto one of the kitchen stools and stabbed a ricotta and sauce laden ziti noodle. “Kind of.”
“You look a helluva lot better than the last time I saw you.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That bar was seriously low.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just figured you might be up for a chat.”
“You know I’m always down for a chat.” Cindy dove into her pile of pillows and blankets. My best friend was a perpetual burrower. She tucked her phone into a holder, then wrapped a fuzzy pink blanket around her shoulders. “Now tell me everything. I’m so damn bored here.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Tell me where you got that beard burn.”
I slapped my hand over my neck.
“Yeah. That was a guess, but dang girl. Who?!”
I sighed. “It’s a mess, Cin.”
“Uh oh. What did I miss?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t see it all over the stupid socials.”
Her big hazel eyes went even wider. “Dammit, what did I miss? My ma had me helping her with new baby goats.”
“Goats?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“But goats.” I crossed my eyes and we dissolved into giggles. “Just tell me their names.”
“Fine. Pacey, Joey, Dawson, and Jen.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are not watchingDawson’s Creekagain, are you?”
“Duh. It’s my rewatch season. Dawson then Buffythen Sam and Dean.”
I shook my head. “You probably know the dialogue to those shows by heart.”
“No, that’sGilmore Girls.” Her welcome laughter filled the kitchen.
There was a helluva lot of downtime when we were on tour. We watched far too much streaming television when we couldn’t sleep after a show. Cindy ended up in my hotel room more often than not. I bonded with my dancers the most, but Cindy had been with me for the last three tours, while the others changed up due to scheduling conflicts.
“But Jen—why she got the name by the way—needed to be bottle fed, so I’ve been doing that for the last three nights.”
“I require photos.”
