Summer:Also, you can tell her she’s hired.
“I got the gig!” Shayla squealed. “My agent says I got the Players video!”
“Yes, you did.” I smiled and showed her Summer’s messages.
Courteney semi-screamed and jumped off her chair to strangle Shayla in an exuberant hug. “You’re gonna be in a video with my husband!”
They screamed together, jumping up and down.
I laughed. They did this often. Like whenever someone they knew had some huge success; usually Courteney’s husband, Xander, or her brother, Cary. Or occasionally, even Shayla’s brother, Johnny.
This time, Shayla was a part of the success, and itwasexciting. I’d never known Shayla to have career aspirations, per se—she’d dragged her feet about entering the work force about as much as I did, though she was a few years younger than me, so she had time—but she’d never committed herself to anything like she did to dancing.
When Courteney was done mauling her, Larissa got up and hugged her, then grabbed her face and looked her in the eye. “I am so proud of you.”
“Stop it!” Shayla started crying. “You’re the worst.” She hugged Larissa for a long time.
Then it was my turn. I hugged Shayla long and hard. “You did it,” I told her. “You worked so hard, all those years of dance, and you did it. You’ve earned your turn in the spotlight.” When we finally pulled apart, she was crying and I was mopping tears from my face trying not to cry.
She really did it. All on her own.
No matter who her brother was, or what doors his last name might open for her, I’d seen her dance today. She’d earned this gig, one hundred percent.
The fact was, no matter how confident or skilled Shayla was, she’d lived most of her life in the inevitable shadow of her older brother. Johnny O’Reilly was gorgeous, a talented musician, and he’d become pretty famous. I understood that shadow Shayla lived in all too well. This moment meant more to her than she’d ever admit, even to us.
As we settled back into our seats, I realized how much all my girls had grown since I’d met them years ago. They’d all accomplished something, become someone, and were on their way to accomplishing so much more.
Shayla as a dancer.
Larissa, who’d been working so long and hard at her education, and would one day have a prestigious career and no doubt make beautiful babies with Jason.
And Courteney, who’d worked for years on a biography about her brother’s former bandmate and best friend, Gabe, who’d died while on tour, years ago, had finally had her dream come true. Earlier this year,The Life and Death of Gabe Romankohad been published by a major publisher. It hit the New York Times bestseller list. Since then, she’d been busy with a promotional tour, giving interviews and doing the thing she’d dreamed of: telling Gabe’s story.
As for me…
As I looked around at my friends, it hit me—how hard I’d stalled out. This was the worst day I’d ever experienced, in a pretty charmed life. But it wasn’t just today that my life halted in its tracks.
It never really got going in the first place.
For all of my twenties, I’d spun my wheels, because I wasn’t really sure where I was going.
And so, I’d gone nowhere.
“Hey,” Courteney said, and everyone looked at me. I realized I’d checked out of the conversation and was probably sitting here looking sullen and sad.
“Hey.” I tried to smile.
“How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay,” I reassured them all.
Shayla frowned. “Are you sure you won’t stay with me? You could come home with me tonight.”
“I’m okay, really. I’ll figure it out. I’ll get a job. Who knows,” I added dryly, “maybe my rock star sister can get me another gig.” I waved a hand in the air to indicate the club. “Maybe they’ll even hire me here—” Unfortunately, just then, Merritt was walking up to our table, and I hit her drink tray with my flailing arm—knocking the entire thing, drinks included, crashing to the floor.
“Oh my God.” My hands went to my mouth.
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Totally my fault.”
