“In that case, who’s the best musician in the band?”
I glared up at him. “My opinion might be biased.”
“Nonsense,” Cash insisted. “You’re a smart, capable woman who can put aside her biases and give an objective opinion.”
“I mean…” I winced. “I still think my answer has to be Riot.”
“Booo!” Cash complained.
“Think about it! He has to play the guitar, he has to sing,andhas to entertain the audience by moving around.”
“We call that stage presence,” Cash explained. “And we all have to maintain that the whole show.”
“But do you have to maintain it to the same degree as Riot? Every eye is on him the entire show. He can’t even stop to pick his nose without everyone seeing.”
We paused at another crosswalk. “I already told you. I wasn’t picking my nose. I had an itch.”
“Sure you were.”
“But I suppose you’re right. I actually enjoy being in the wings, rather than in the spotlight. Some men—like Riot—are made to be showmen, but not me.”
I squeezed his arm a little tighter. “But in terms of raw musical talent? You might be at the top. Or Violet. I haven’t decided yet.”
He leaned into me affectionately. “Thanks. I try my best.” He pointed. “There’s a thrift shop across the street. Want to pop in?”
“Are you implying I need new clothes?”
“I’m not implying. I’m stating it bluntly. You have great taste, but you need grungier clothes. Stuff that will fit in better while touring with the infamous band Cherry Midnight.”
“I wouldn’t mind popping in.”
The bell over the door chimed like we had stepped into a different decade. The noise of the city faded into a soft hum. The air smelled faintly of old fabric and dust, and every rack was crammed with clothes in every imaginable color and texture. I ran my fingers across the racks of dresses and blouses as I passed, smiling at the kindly old woman behind the cash register. She was engrossed in a thick paperback, and barely glanced up at us.
Cash immediately started flipping through a row of jackets with exaggerated seriousness, holding up a ridiculous sequined blazer and raising an eyebrow questioningly.
I snorted with laughter. “No.”
He rolled his eyes like I was being unreasonable, then moved farther down the rack.
For a while, we wandered through the racks of clothes and shelves of mismatched trinkets, tucked inside our own little world.
I couldn’t help but notice howrelaxedCash seemed. It was like he had finally shed a heavy load from his shoulders and could walk around unencumbered. Based on how his mother acted when I confronted her, I could understand how he felt. It musthave been so wonderful to finally connect with them again, to have them accept what he had chosen to do with his life.
“What about this?” Cash asked, holding up a leather jacket adorned with silver studs.
“It’s not my usual style, but I like it.”
“You could wear this underneath.” He picked a low-cut top off the rack.
“Kind of revealing,” I said.
“Exactly. I think it’ll really show off your best features.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean my tits?”
His cheeks reddened in the most adorable way. “Your chest,andyour slender waist. This will accentuate your hourglass figure. Especially if you pair it with a skirt and belt…” He focused on the rack of clothes. “Like this!”
I blinked at the outfit he had chosen. “I actually really like that. You’ve got a good eye for fashion.”
