Riot shook his head. “The four of us were already friends. More than friends. Bandmates. There’s a certain kind of intimacy that comes from making music together. Compared to that, having sex wasn’t that big of a deal. If it was some random dude, maybe I would feel differently, but I never felt any jealousy about Cash or Milo being with her, too.”
“It’s just so wild to me,” I said. “I’ve never heard of anyone who has done this before.”
He smiled at the memory. “It was totally different from any other relationship I’ve ever been in. It was great, while it lasted. If Vi hadn’t met Dana…” He trailed off.
“What?” I prodded.
Riot shrugged. “It’s all speculation. We don’treallyknow what might have happened. But if she never met Dana, and didn’t realize she liked women more than men… I could’ve seen our little group relationship continuing for a long time. Maybe even forever.”
“What, like all three of you would marry her?” I asked skeptically.
“Plenty of people stay together and never get married,” he replied. “All I’m saying is that what we had, as crazy and unorthodox as it might have been, was special. Really special. Hey, I’m starving. Want to get some food?”
“I’d kill for a burrito,” I said. “You made me work up an appetite.”
As we walked through downtown Detroit, holding hands, I thought more about what he’d said. The whole thing still seemedlegitimately insaneto me, but now I was curious. The idea was rolling around in my mind like a loose Pringles can in the aisle of the tour bus.
We found a Mexican restaurant and took our burritos to a park bench to eat. While we dug in, Riot said, “Hey, FYI, go easy on Cash while we’re here.”
“Go easy on him? Implying that I’m ever tough on him?”
He gestured with his burrito. “I just mean… give him a wide berth. He’s always extra sensitive when we’re in Detroit.”
“Because of his parents?”
Riot confirmed my suspicion with a grimace. “They’re such assholes. Especially his mom. Hesaysit doesn’t bother him, but I know Cash.”
“It’s such a sad situation. What kind of parents don’t support their son?”
“The shitty kind.” He patted me on the thigh. “Fortunately, Cash has a better family now. Vi’s really good about being nice to him when we’re here, and Milo always finds ways to make him laugh to take his mind off it. I just wanted to warn you.”
The subject shifted to dinner plans, but I was only half listening to Riot. I kept thinking about Cash, his parents, and whether there was anything I could do about it.
That was when my bad idea took hold.
24
Roxie
Parents loved me. They always had, going back to when I was a little girl who knocked on Meghan’s door and asked her parents if she could come out and play. Meghan was grounded, but after some smiles and childish pleading, they let her out. And from that moment on, they loved me and constantly said I was a good influence on her.
It wasn’t just my friends’ parents, but my boyfriends’, too. It was actually kind of funny that in most of the serious relationships I’d ever had, my boyfriend’s parents liked me more than my boyfriend. I still kept in touch with Trevor Yanovic’s mom, even though Trevor dumped me over ten years ago. His mom sent me a card every year on my birthday.
It was kind of my superpower. But that made me too confident.
The morning after we arrived in Detroit, everyone split off to do their own thing. I made an excuse about going shopping, and fortunately Violet didn’t ask to come with me.
Because I had no intention of shopping.
When the rest of the band was gone, I took an Uber out to a Detroit suburb. It was a nice neighborhood, with white picketfences and perfectly mowed lawns. People were out walking dogs and strollers. It felt like a nice, safe place to grow up.
The Uber dropped me off at a house that looked no different than all the others, except for the massive oak tree in the front yard with a rope swing hanging from a branch. I walked up the porch slowly, thinking about what I was going to say. I knew I would be able to convince them. Sometimes people just needed to hear the blunt truth from a stranger.
I knocked on the door.
Barely a second later, a light flashed on the Ring doorbell camera and a voice said, “Sorry, we already early-voted. Leave your pamphlet on the door.”
“Um. I’m not a solicitor.” I leaned closer and raised my voice in case they couldn’t hear me. “I’m actually a friend of your son. Cash.” I added his name for good measure, as if they wouldn’t know who I was talking about.
