Oh, I miss his face.
I don’t have to say a word. We can have a whole conversation with our eyes and the slightest quirk of our lips. Ugh. I’m not going to win this.
Aunt Judy sees my eyes roam behind her, and glances back at Jude. “Samuel, I don’t like you traveling alone either, and Lucy, you do have a lovely voice. I do hope you’ll use it whenever you have the opportunity. I can’t speak to her confidence on guitar. What do you say, Jude?”
Yes,Jude, whatdoyou say? Because you didn’t tell me about any of this, and we talked for over an hour.
“I know it’s a big step, Punk, but you can do this.”
Not the eye contact. Stop it!
No, don’t.
“I haven’t practiced in months, and my guitar’s at the townhouse,” I say with an edge of panic. Why can’t I blink when he stares at me like this?
“All right, then just sing. You and Sam sing all the time. Please?” He’s still giving me the grin I can’t refuse.
Sam adds, “Maybe some time management? A little percussion? Help setting up?” He rushes to tack on all he can while Jude’s presence sedates me.
“Looks like y’all handled the setup just fine,” I mumble, and Jude’s grin turns devious.
Aunt Judy clearly works for the enemy. “I know it doesn’t help you today, Lucy, but if you’d like some lessons in the future, I’d be happy to work with you so you’ll feel more confident next time.”
“Thank you. I’d love that, but I can’t imagine a next time. I don’t know where the idea forthis timecame from.”
Jude pleads directly into my eyes. “Stage management and singing would really help, Lu. Jace and I both have to work, and it’s hard to do it alone.”
He knows what he’s doing.
“Whose bright idea was this?” I ask.
They glance at each other then look away as if they’re debating whether to tell me, but Jude speaks first. “Well, we didn’t know the whole situation until you were already gone, so it wasn’t—"
“Jace,” Sam blurts.
“Oh, what-EV-er. He wasn’t serious.” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “You know he’s full of crap. Sorry, Aunt Judy.”
“Quite all right, sweetheart.” She grins knowingly. “I’ve seen him in action.”
Jude studies my face sincerity in his expression. “He said, word for word, that you get stronger and we sound better every time you sing with us,andyou’re solid on the few chords you know. I agree with him.”
Sam nudges me. “Me too.”
“Help us out?” Jude asks.
You mean, would I walk to Canada and back barefoot in a blizzard for you? I think we all know the answer.
“No guitar. No percussion,” I say flatly, not taking my eyes off Jude.
“I think babysitting Samuel and singing on a few hours’ notice is quite enough, don’t you, boys?” Aunt Judy adds.
“Hey!” Sam scoffs.
“You’ll be just like a blond Donny and Marie! Oh, I hope you will, Lucy.” She beams.
Thanks to my grandmother, I do know who Donny and Marie are. I’d laugh if I wasn’t scared to death. Aunt Judy asks Sam what type of gig and how many songs, and they begin talking about what instruments he brought with him.
Terrifying. All of it.
