I tipped her chin up and kissed the worry lines in her forehead. “It means the McKallister family believes in redemption.”
30
Jess: I’m with the Band
Ioriginally wanted to pass on the concert when Quinn sprang it on me, but I knew he wanted and needed me there. How could I deny him? Besides, this was a huge moment for Sketch Monsters. They’d been existing on the periphery, dropping singles while they waited to release their album, so this exposure would be huge for them—game changing. I wanted to be there to watch them take flight.
“Oh. My. God.”
Grace perfectly articulated the narrative in my head as we drove past hordes of music fans lined up for entry into the stadium. Granted, most of these people were here for Wylder, but all of them would hear Sketch Monsters play, and I had no doubt they’d be wowed. “I hope Quinn is ready for this.”
Again, my sentiments exactly. Grace and I were scarily on the same wavelength when it same to our shared favorite guy.
“Watch him choke. Get up there, open his mouth, and be like uh… uh… uh,” Elliott replied, cracking himself up.
Okay. Apparently there was one person who wasn’t on our wavelength: Elliott. Both Grace and I reacted with similar openmouthed horror. He glanced between us, his smile quickly fading as he realized his mistake. Elliott should’ve known better. He’d been in the family longer than I had. Surely he knew the McKallisters were fiercely protective of their own, and that even sweet, easygoing Grace would morph into Buffy The Vampire Slayer if you threatened her coven.
Grace was slow to respond, like water receding in a tsunami seconds before the first wave hit.
“Why would you say that?”
“It was a joke, Grace.”
“Is my family a joke to you?”
I flattened myself against the door, trying to make my physical presence as tiny and insignificant as possible in hopes I would not be dragged into the impending tidal wave.
“Of course not. I’ve got nothing but respect for your family.”
Grace remained silent, peering out the window.
“Hey,” Elliott said, stroking her arm. “It was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
And she did—but only in words. Her posture and subdued mood were indication enough that she hadn’t forgiven him in her heart, and we girls all knew, that’s where it really counted.
“Do you know where our seats are?” I asked.
“There’s a friends and family section along the edge of the stage. Not that we’ll need many of them.”
Grace was referring to the lack of familiar faces that would be in attendance tonight. Per Quinn’s request, she was the only McKallister invited. It wasn’t a diss in any way, but rather a form of self-preservation. Quinn was worried his nerves would get the best of him, so he’d asked the others not to come. But Grace was different. I didn’t really understand the dynamics of their relationship, only that whatever they’d gone through together as kids had solidified their bond into adulthood. He needed her here tonight as much as he needed me.
Plus, not gonna lie, the fact that the rest of the clan would not be in attendance was another reason why I decided to come. Regardless of what Quinn thought his family’s reaction would be toward me, I remained cautiously on edge. Grace and I had yet to speak of the matter, and I hoped to get her take on things later tonight.
“I have explicit instructions from the man himself to bring you backstage,” Grace said. “So you can give him a good luck kiss.”
“Explicit instructions, huh?”
Grace shrugged. “That’s what he said.”
“Okay, well, am I even allowed?” I asked, unsure what the protocol was. I’d been to concerts before, but never backstage, and certainly never as the front man’s girl.
“Jess, you can go anywhere.” She tugged on my lanyard. “You’re with the band.”
Grace lived those words. She was always with the band. See, the difference between her and me was that she’d grown up going to Jake’s concerts, so the almighty ‘backstage’ meant nothing to her. I wasn’t even sure Grace realized how rare a life she led. I watched in wonder as she glided confidently through the narrowed halls, sidestepping equipment containers and chatting up tattooed roadies. Elliott and I, not having been fed a steady diet of cool growing up, followed behind, demurely watching her show.
She pushed open a door that looked as if it should’ve remained shut. But on the other side, standing in a circle with the other members of Sketch Monsters, was Quinn.
He looked up, smiled, and held a finger up to me.
