“Sami . . .” I can already guess how this is going to go over, but I try anyway. “I know at least three people who would love to come see you perform.”
“Good. Tell them to buy a ticket.”
“You live with them. Maybe you should tell them.”
She gives a small snort. “Nice one, Josh.”
“I mean it,” I say quietly. “I bet they would love it.”
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then she shifts in her chair and resettles her blanket. “Three people won’t make a difference. We need way more people than that.”
“You’ll get them,” I say. “And if you don’t, it won’t matter, because you’re still going to light up the crowd. Let’s make a bet.” It’s an impulse, but I follow it, an idea brewing. “If you kill it with the crowd tomorrow, you tell your roommates about Pixie Luna.”
“That’s not something you can measure.”
I call BS on her, succinctly. Then I add, “You know when you’ve killed it, Sami. Even I know when you’ve killed it. True or not true?”
She pulls her blanket over her head.
“Your Honor, please direct the witness to answer the question,” I say.
“Stop,” she says, but I hear a smile in her voice.
“Bet me, Sami. Unless you’re afraid.” Then I scoff. “Why am I saying it likemaybeyou’re scared? You are one hundred percent certified chicken.”
“Whatever, Josh.”
I give a soft cluck and she whips toward me with a startled look. “That was really good,” she says.
She’s not getting out of this. I give another cluck, and her mouth twitches. I wait a few beats, and then I do it one more time.Ba-kaw.
“Oh, my Josh.” Then she nearly trips over her own tongue to say, “I meant gosh. Oh my gosh.”
I sit back down and kick my feet up on the railing. “I heard what I heard.”
“What do you even care?” It’s cute that she’s trying to sound tough. “You’re not even going to be there. I can tell you whatever I want about how it went. It was trash, by the way. Our worst gig ever.”
“Wrong,” I say. “I’ll be there.”
A tiny pause. “Yeah?”
I don’t bother hiding a smile at the relief in her tone. “Yeah.”
And I’m not coming alone.
IgetintoworkWednesday on time, which is late by my standards. But I was up late sending texts and emails.
I try to focus on the meeting prep, but I’m distracted by every text and email reply I get to my Sami project. It’s working. I think I’m going to pull this off.
My dad would be less than thrilled if he knew the board meeting wasn’t my sole focus today. Especially since he texted to ask how prep was going and I told him I had it on lock. But I know the account. I have a good relationship with the board. I’ve got the chops. I have to trust myself. And I will work on it some more. But tonight. After Sami’s show.
I leave work at seven, hurry home, and change into my Pixie Luna shirt. When a quick look through the patio door reveals that Sami’s car is gone, I run next door and knock. Ava answers and fetches Ruby at my request.
“Who’s up tonight?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “This one is a big deal. She needs fans.”
“I got it,” she says. “See you there.”
I nod and hurry out to my car . . . and it doesn’t start. It sounds like the battery, which isn’t a hard problem to solve with dealer “courtesy” roadside service, but I’m in a hurry. I call the number on the card I keep in my glove box, and after a five-step phone menu and a seven-minute hold, a real live person takes my address and informs me that a technician will be there within forty to sixty minutes.
