Her mouth almost smiles. “And Salem is obvious.”
“Almost always.” I take another sip of soda.
“Yeah, he doesn’t strike me as the type to do subtle.” She looks at the door to the hall, to the door of Salem’s room, to the door of Knox’s, like she’s measuring what that costs and what it gives back. “Must be nice having family that’s so close to each other.”
“It is. It’s a lot of work too.”
She takes another drink. The glass sweats, and she traces a circle in the ring on the table with one finger, then wipes it with her thumb like she can erase it. “I tried to build a life that didn’t need anybody. It worked until I met Troy.”
“It’s allowed to stop working. You readjust and move forward.”
“Tell that to my rent.”
I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Rent listens to no one.”
“You really think he’s a jackass?” she says after a minute. “Your brother.”
“Yes. I also think he’s talented and scared and used to getting away with it. All those things can be true at once.”
“Why is he like that?”
“Some people hear a crowd and it sounds like a hunger they have to feed.” I look at the window where the Strip flashes like a fish trying to shake a hook. “I like playing. I like the work. I like the room. I don’t need the part where everyone’s eyes are on me. He does.”
“And the money?”
I shake my head. “We grew up counting every dollar until we hit it big, and we hit it big when he was too young to remember the hard parts. He thought we always lived in a mansion, that we always had money. Earning it never occurred to him. He hated that part. He decided the rules were for other people.”
Her mouth presses thin. “And you still don’t go public.”
“We’d rather our music be the headline. Not some family squabbling.”
She tips her head, considering it. “So what happens next?”
“Tonight, we have some fun. Dinner, dancing, see the sights, whatever you want.” I set the shaker in the sink, run water over it until the metal loses its bite. “Tomorrow, we figure everything else out.”
She looks down at her locket again, then tucks it under the neckline of the dress like she’s putting the past back where it sits most days. “I don’t have siblings. But I had a girl in one of the foster homes who let me copy her homework and pushed me into the cafeteria line before all the good stuff was gone. I would’ve kept her secrets if she’d asked.” A half shrug. “I get it.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her that’s not a sibling relationship. That’s barely a friendship. This poor woman.
I line up the bottles so the labels face forward. Habit. “We didn’t protect him because he’s famous. We protected him because he’s ours. Until he made it impossible.”
“And then?”
“And then we stopped.”
She watches my hands, not my face. “I didn’t know about the money.”
“Not your fault.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She finds the seam on the arm of the couch and rubs it with her thumb. “I mean, I didn’t know any of this. He said he left because the band was holding him back. He said you were jealous.”
I don’t react. There’s no point. “We were relieved. That’s not the same as jealous.”
Her mouth wants to argue, then doesn’t. “He’s good at being the main character.”
“He’s a hell of a dancer, better than the rest of us. Decent singer. Not much of a songwriter.” I drag a hand over my hair. “If he was half as smart as he thinks he is, he would apologize and comecrawling back to us. Instead, his next album is going to bomb if he’s not careful.”
“Since he hasn’t been able to write a single song and the album is due in two months, yeah. It is.”
