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Chapter FOUR

After a long nap and a shower to wash away the craziness of the day, I realize I still haven't called my boyfriend Rick. It's nearly two-he should be up by now. Sometimes the band stays up all night practicing for a gig like the one they have tonight, which is a big deal. Or at least they say they're rehearsing. Sometimes it seems like a lot of partying and a little playing.

But as he always says, he's young, just now twenty-two. There's time to figure life out.

I flip open my phone, and on the top of the screen is Tyler's number. His ocean eyes flash across my imagination, and I think of the way his beautiful lips smiled ever so slightly, mostly on one side. A quiver of awareness coils down my spine, pooling at the small of my back.

Guiltily, I push the vision away. Punch in Rick's number.

He answers on the third ring, his voice sleepy and sexy. "Hey, babe. I was just thinking about you."

"Were you?"

"Yeah. I wish you were here in bed with me." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Want to come over?"

He lives in a house with the band, four guys, and none of them clean the place or wash dishes. Ever. I'm pretty sure nobody has vacuumed the entire time they've lived there. "Maybe if you hire a cleaning crew."

He laughs. "What's up?"

"Well, before you hear it on the news, I wanted to tell you that some old guy drove a car through the front of the restaurant."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Amazingly, I'm fine. Almost nobody got hurt, except Virginia and a couple of people with minor injuries." My chest aches as I think about my friend. "Virginia is hurt pretty bad, though."

"That sucks. I'm sorry." I hear him light something in the background-a cigarette, a joint, not sure. "Do you want me to come over?" He holds his breath slightly. A joint, then.

"No, thanks. I have to go look for work."

"You don't have to do it today. You could give yourself one day off."

"No, I'll just worry about it. The sooner I get started, the sooner I'll have a new job."

"All right. What time do you want me to pick you up tonight?"

I've been up since four. The band will play until midnight. I'm wiped out from everything that's happened. But the gig is important to him, a new club, and he wants me there. "Seven?"

"I'll be there. Can you wear the red halter?"

"Sure." He'll want my hair down, too, and my low cut jeans that show a little belly. The girls with the boys in the band have to look good.

When I hang up, I have to toss through my closet to figure out what to wear to the Musical Spoon. I've only been there a couple of times. It's close to a private, super expensive college downtown, and students drink coffee there, along with people who live in the lofts and little apartments in the city center.

I don't have a lot of clothes for things like this, really. I take out my best jeans, and pair them with a green-and-blue-print peasant blouse with short sleeves, but that looks too casual. The last option is a sundress that's been around for a couple of summers but still looks okay. I dither over shoes-flat sandals look too casual, but I can't think of anyone who ever wore high heels in that place. Tennis shoes? The pair I've been wearing to work every day are pretty battered. I dig out a pair of clogs, but when I put them on, they just look sad.

It makes me feel so anxious that my stomach is upset. This is always the big problem-never having the right stuff to wear. I have work clothes and ordinary clothes and sexy tops for when I go listen to Rick's band.