Chapter 27 - Roxie
Roxie
When we met downstairs to go to dinner a few hours later, Riot was nowhere to be found. After calling his phone and texting him, we all took the elevator up to his floor and banged on the door.
“He’s probably not dead,” Milo said.
Violet punched him in the arm. “Dude!”
“I’m just saying!” We heard movement inside the room. Milo pointed and said, “See? Not dead.”
Riot opened the door, and we immediately knew what was wrong. His face was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“I had a tickle in my throat this morning,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Thought it was from the show, but now…”
He ducked his head behind the door as a coughing fit hit him.
“Don’t get us sick!” Violet said, backing away.
“Do you need a doctor?” Milo asked.
Riot shook his head. “Just. Rest. I’ll. Be. Fine.” Another coughing fit hit him.
“We’ll get you some medicine at the pharmacy,” Cash promised. “And some soup.”
“No soup,” Riot insisted. “No food. Stomach. Is. Too tight.”
Back in the elevator, all of us were worried.
“We’ve had to cancel shows before,” Violet said. “But it’s not ideal.”
“What you mean is it fucking sucks,” Milo said. “Canceling a show at the last minute is how you piss off your fans.”
“I’ll work on getting him some medicine,” Cash said. “That’s priority number one.”
“What about dinner?” Milo whined. “I want Portillo’s.”
“Go get dinner without me. I’ll figure out food later,” Cash said firmly.
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “I’m not really hungry yet.”
Milo looked shocked. “Not even for Portillo’s?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“What! Roxie, come on. You’ve heard of Portillo’s. Everyone has. And if you haven’t, then we need to convert you to the church of the Portillo’s Italian beef hotdog.”
“It’s fine,” Violet said as we left the elevator. “She can get it tomorrow.”
Milo perked up at that. “We can get Portillo’s twice while we’re here?”
“Sure, little buddy.”
Milo didn’t even mind that she was treating him like a child. He grinned and hurried through the lobby and outside.
Cash was frowning at his phone screen. “There’s a pharmacy six or seven blocks to the north. Should be easy to walk to.”
“Let’s do it!” I said.
Downtown Chicago buzzed like a living, breathing animal.
The wind off the lake tugged at my jacket and carried the smell of roasted nuts and car exhaust. I couldn’t help but gawk at the enormous skyscrapers that climbed so high they made my neck ache, glass catching the late afternoon sun and scattering it across the sidewalks in bright shards.
I laughed when Cash grabbed my arm and steered me around a knot of tourists. “Don’t forget we’re in a city,” he warned. “You’ve got to keep moving or the locals will walk through you.”
“I should’ve learned my lesson when we were in New York,” I said, my gaze drifting up to the sky again. “I’m still not used to cities like this.”
“You’re from Austin. That’s a good-sized city.”
“Not like this,” I said. “And that was the only real city I’ve ever been to. This is all new to me.”
“I’ll be your guide.” He stuck an elbow out for me to take, and I smiled as I clung to him.
Walking with Cash felt like being folded into the rhythm of the city itself, my pulse matching the thrum of traffic and footsteps as we disappeared into the crowd together.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he said as we crossed the street.
“Of course! You act like it’s a huge favor to join you on a quick errand.”
“Sometimes it feels like it,” he replied. “The others like to tease me about being the band mom, but when it comes to stuff like this? They’re more than happy to leave the responsibilities to me.”
“My friend Meghan calls that eldest child shit,” I explained.
“She’s the eldest of four kids, and complains that she has to do everything.
They threw a huge party for her mom’s fiftieth birthday, and her siblings didn’t help at all.
They left it all for her to do. But she just shrugs and says that it’s eldest child shit, and that it’s been that way her entire life. ”
“Makes sense,” Cash said, “except that I’m younger than my sister Jennifer.”
“Oh. Well, you’re an eldest child at heart.”
“I’m going to start telling Jennifer that,” he laughed.
We reached the pharmacy and bought a variety of cough medicine and cough drops. The NyQuil was a controlled substance, though, so we had to wait for an employee to come check to make sure we weren’t under-age.
“Thanks again for everything with my parents,” Cash said while we waited. “It’s like you flipped a switch and turned them into completely different people.”
“I’m sure it’s not that much of a change.”
“I’m not exaggerating. My mom has been texting me! Look at this.”
He leaned close to show me his texts.
Mom: You were right: the pasta did need a little extra pepper. I didn’t know you had become such a good cook!
Mom: Jennifer is going to try to go to one of your concerts during the tour. We might fly out to the west coast to see a show.
Mom: Have you watched Real Housewives of Salt Lake City? I call it Real Mormon Housewives. They’re all traditional religious women, but sometimes they do something called “soft swinging.” Isn’t that insane?
Mom: Oh, don’t forget to call Nana on Tuesday. It’s her birthday. It would be even better if you sent a card.
“She’s never texted me like this. Not even before they temporarily disowned me.”
“She’s probably making up for lost time,” I replied. “And I’m sure you have it covered since you’re an eldest child at heart, but now would be a great time to get your Nana a card.”
“Shit. Good point.” He turned around and gazed deeper into the store. “Where are the cards?”
“I saw them in the back. Stay here, I’ll pick one for you!”
“I don’t know if that’s a good…” he said, but I was already running off.
I scanned the card section, immediately finding the area with the “funny” cards. The third one I read was perfect, and I hurried back to the self-checkout area just as an employee was checking Cash’s ID.
“Here you go,” I said.
“Should I read it first?” he asked.
I batted my eyelashes up at him innocently. “Do you trust me?”
A glimmer of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “I do. Yeah.”
I ran the card across the scanner. It beeped. “You’ve made a wise decision.”
He grunted, but was smiling at me.
Once we were outside, he reached into the bag and pulled out the card I had chosen. He immediately groaned.
“Read it out loud!” I said.
Cash turned it around to show me, like I hadn’t already seen it. “There’s a possum on the front with its mouth open, like it’s screaming.” He opened the card. “And on the inside it says: life without you is trash. Oh my god. It’s so dumb.”
“Right? But also funny?”
He flashed a grin. “I actually think Nana will love it. She has a weird sense of humor.”
I pumped my fist. “Yessss. I win.”
“I didn’t realize it was a competition.”
“Everything’s a competition,” I said, threading my arm through his.
“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, and has 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 how relaxed Cash 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 must have 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, and your 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.”
“My sister used to kidnap me and do a fashion show in her room. I got good at recognizing what works and what doesn’t.”
I plucked the clothes out of his hand. “I’ll try them on.”
The dressing rooms were at the back of the store, around a corner and down a narrow hallway. The top was cut very low, and barely covered my nipples. But I didn’t feel self conscious as I stepped out to show Cash.
“Well?” I gave a little twirl. “Thoughts?”
He crossed his arms and scratched his chin. “The top and jacket are fantastic.”
“The girls aren’t too exposed?” I asked, rolling my shoulders forward so that my breasts squeezed together.
Cash’s eyes flicked down for a polite heartbeat. “They’re definitely out there. But in a good way.” He gestured. “But I’m not feeling the skirt.”
“I was skeptical of it, too,” I said. “It’s not tight enough through the waist.”
“A belt would help. Or… hold on. Come here.”
I followed him over to another clothes rack. He plucked another hanger off and held it up. “Maybe this?”
I leaned in to check the tag. “That’s my size! Good eye.”
“Excuse me,” another customer said as she tried squeezing by. I instinctively stepped out of her way, but there wasn’t much room in the cramped store, so I ended up pressed against Cash as she passed.
It only lasted two seconds, but it felt like my senses were heightened. The tickle of his breath on the back of my neck, the warmth of his body, and the rich scent of him. I was hyper aware of the fact that my ass was up against his crotch.
But when the woman was gone, I lingered a moment before giving him space again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile that was a lot more suggestive than I expected.
I took the skirt and returned to the dressing room.
When I came out again, his eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. That’s the winner.”
“You think so?” I gave a little twirl.
“Absolutely.”
I turned toward the mirror on the wall. “How’s my ass look?”
“Incredible,” he breathed.
I glanced over at him.
“Oh, you mean in the skirt? It looks perfect.”
The casual compliment filled me with warmth. “If I didn’t know any better, Cash Delaney of Cherry Midnight fame, I would say you’re flirting with me.”
A new look flickered in his green eyes, one I hadn’t seen before this moment. “Maybe I am.”
I stepped closer to him, glancing toward the front of the store. The employee was still totally focused on her book, and hadn’t glanced up once since we came in. And the other customer was walking toward a rack of jeans on the opposite end of the room.
I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I was feeling bold all of a sudden.
Perhaps it was the disappointment that Riot was sick and we wouldn’t be able to take advantage of our hotel room.
Or maybe I was finally growing comfortable enough with the other band members that I wasn’t afraid to say what I was thinking.
“If you want to flirt with me,” I whispered, “then flirt with me. Don’t screw around.”
“Is that a request, or a demand?” he asked softly.
I responded by raising my eyebrows expectantly.
And, to my immense satisfaction, Cash smiled down at me and discarded whatever had been holding him back all this time.
“Let’s get you out of that skirt,” he said, pushing me into the changing room.
He slid the privacy curtain closed behind him, then rounded on me with that same new look in his eyes.
A look of pure, unrestrained desire.