“It’s going to be awesome!” Hector called out after him. No reply. Unbothered, he added to me, “Hey, can you let him know he needs to be there at four to tune up? A little earlier, even, might be good.”
I nodded. It wasn’t ten yet. Four was a world away. Plus the phone was ringing again. I found a pen and answered it.
“Well, I don’t think you have to,” Liz said, pacing back toward the windows. “It sounds to me like you were more than clear the other night.”
It was that afternoon. My mom, Liz, and Kasey were at the table, preparing for a VizUL with their lawyers. At least until Anne had started texting, then calling, and Liz had to step aside to talk her down from yet another crisis. It occurred to me it was rare that I’d seen my cousin anythingbutupset since I’d landed here.
My mom sighed. “We really need to get through these documents.”
“Honey, I’ll call you back,” Liz said. “Okay, fifteen minutes. Perfect. Talk then. Love you.”
“We’ll still be doing this in fifteen minutes,” my mom pointed out.
“Too bad,” Liz replied. “She’s my daughter and she needs me.”
Maybe it was the way she pulled out her chair as she said this, hard. Or that she didn’t look at my mom as she sat, deliberately picking up her own stack of papers. Clearly, even Liz had her limits.
Just then, the house phone rang. Beside me, Lana jumped. “Good Lord,” she said. “That isloud.”
“Who even has that number?” Kasey asked.
“Aunt Betsy,” Liz replied.
“Finley,” Lana said at the same time.
I pushed back my chair, getting up, and went into the living room, where the phone was sitting on the floor. “Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Ben.”
For some reason, I looked behind me, as if everyone was watching. They weren’t, instead all focused on the screen as the VizUL began. “Hey,” I said.
“What did Hector say this morning?” he asked. “When I had to go deal with the bacon.”
“That you should meet them at the Lodge at four to tune up,” I told him. He sighed. “Wait. Are you going to do it?”
“The whole thing’s already in motion,” he said, sounding defeated. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
On the porch, my mom’s screen was now filled with little squares full of people in suits. “It’s kind of exciting, you have to admit. A real gig.”
“Be even better if we were a real band,” he grumbled. “Also, do you not remember the whole Visceral Pantylines thing?”
“Maybe you should tell Hector that story.”
“Why? He wouldn’t listen.”
I smiled. “This could be different, though. I mean, it’s not death metal. Or a sorority event.”
“No, it’s local, which means the news of our inevitable humiliation will make it around the lake before we’re even done.”
Always the optimist.
“On the other hand, if it’s local,” I replied, “you could have someone you know in the crowd to be your visual barometer.”
A beat. “Like, say… you?”
I exhaled, loudly. “Whew. If you’d picked someone else, that would have been really embarrassing.”
Now I was the one immediately saying what I thought. Another layer. I wondered how many were down there.
