“Now we need to come up with a way to break the news to Jules,” Pete says as he holds the door open. “You said her proposal needs to be epic.”

I walk past him and out into the hustle of Michigan Avenue. Little does he know I have news of my own. I haven’t told him about the tour yet. I was going to bring it up this morning after breakfast, but he suggested ring shopping before I could. I didn’t want to ruin the trip, in case he got pissy about me taking off across the country with three guys I don’t know.

“You said you had a couple ideas,” I say. “What are they?”

“At the top of the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier, or on the observation deck of the Willis Tower.”

My brow furrows. “Does she like heights?”

He shrugs. “I thought those were unique places. I don’t want to do it at a restaurant or rent a scoreboard. Jules doesn’t do sports. She does fitness.”

“What about sky writing?” I ask. “You could hire a plane and have it pull a banner over the lake.”

He frowns. “I just dropped some serious cash on this ring.” He holds the bag with one finger. “I think hiring a plane is out of my price range. Unless you know a pilot.”

Unfortunately, I don’t.

“Any other ideas?” Pete asks.

I tilt my head in thought as I keep up with foot traffic. “When did you want to do this?  I need some time to think.”

“I’m not in a big hurry. But I’d like to do it before we head home for Christmas.”

I smile. My parents are going to be so excited. “I can come up with something before December. Especially if I’m going to be spending a lot of time on a bus.”

“Why would you be on a bus?”

We stop at the edge of the sidewalk to wait for the street light. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell my brother I’m leaving. I look up at him. “I have some news.”

His questioning look doesn’t hide his annoyance. I’m sure he assumes what I have to say is bad. “What did he do?” he asks.

“Who?”

“Latson.”

“Nothing!  He’s being very supportive.”

“Of?”

I take a deep breath. “You know Dean?”

Pete nods.

“He’s going on tour. He’s opening for Ariel Allyn, and he wants me to play in his band.”

My brother’s eyes grow wide. “The Ariel Allyn?”

“Is there another?”

In one quick swoop, Pete wraps me in a bear hug and lifts me off the ground. “You’re going to be famous!”

People standing next to us start to back away. “Put me down,” I laugh. “I’m not going to be famous.”

“You never know,” he says as my feet touch the sidewalk. “When did this happen?  I knew you could play after Latson’s party, but damn. A tour?  Have you told mom and dad?”

“Not yet. It just fell in my lap last night.”

The light changes and we start to walk across the street. “So, spill,” Pete says. “When do the shows start?”

“Late June in L.A.”

“So, you’ll be here a couple more weeks?”

“No. We need to rehearse. I leave after Oliver’s school picnic.” I was relieved when I got home and finished reading Dean’s email. Our flight leaves next Thursday evening. I have a date with a certain little boy, and I didn’t want to let him down.

“When it rains, it pours, huh?” Pete bumps his arm against mine. “New boyfriend, new career, new sister-in-law.” He lets out a low whistle. “Maybe you should thank me for making you come out here.”

I bump his arm back, but harder. “I would have had the sister-in-law regardless, but I do thank you.” I smirk up at him. “I might even miss you while I’m gone.”

“You’d better.” Pete’s walk slows a little. “I know all of us will miss you. How long will you be on the road?”

“Until November. I’ll be back before Thanksgiving.”

He nods. “This is big.” He stops walking. “I’m proud of you, Jen.”

“Don’t be proud yet. I haven’t done anything.” I step out of the way of passing pedestrians. “I didn’t compete for this. Dean handed it to me. It could be a disaster.”

“Nah.” Pete shakes his head. “You’ll do fine.”

“C’mon.” I grab his wrist and pull him along. “Latson helped Dean write a few of his songs, and he said he’d work with me before I go.”

“Work with you or work on hooking up with you?”

I shoot him a sarcastic look. Does he think that hasn’t happened yet?  “Do you really want to know?”

He closes his eyes. “Never mind.”

We walk half a block in silence before I say, “I’m surprised you’re on board with this. Aren’t you worried about me?  What happened to Protective Pete?”

“He’s still around.” My brother gives me his fatherly stare as we get stopped at another street crossing. “But this is a professionally run organization. You’ll be surrounded by people, and Dean’s not trying to get into your pants.”

“You’re right.” The light changes and we start to walk. “However, I will be spending months on a bus with him and two other guys.”

Pete’s expression changes. “Wait. What?”

I skip ahead of him, dodging a few people so he can’t lecture me.

“Come back here!” he shouts and tries to catch up. It’s not easy to for him to work around people with his big body. “Little J!”

I laugh and start to run. I’m going to miss teasing him while I’m gone.

~~~~

“Let’s take it from the top of “The Short Life”,” Latson says as I reposition my fingers. We ran through the ballad a couple of times before switching gears to the faster paced “To Hell and Back.”

As he plays next to me, I concentrate on the chords, waiting for my turn to join in. We’re sitting in the infamous guitar room, the one he mentioned during our fire escape talk. He wasn’t lying; he really has a room full of guitars. In fact, it’s set up more like a mini-studio, with soundproof insulation on the walls and a mixing board in the corner. There are at least fifteen instruments in here, including the Fender, along with a few amps and mics.

He nods as he comes to the end of the first verse, indicating it’s time for me to play. The first part of this song features the lead alone, then the rest of the band joins in. Latson sings the chorus, since I don’t know all the words yet:

“I’m down so low, you’re up so high

A million miles an hour

The speed you fly

Never catching up, never slowing down

Short is the life

We’re burning into the ground.”

At first I keep up, but then I start to stumble through the rest of the song. I find myself paying more attention to the words than the notes. I try to focus, but this is the third time I’ve heard the lyrics. Before the song ends, Latson stops playing and gives me a curious look. “What’s wrong?  Did your fingers seize up?”

“Of all of the things you make me do, the worst of them is missing you,” I quote a line from the song. The words are so sad. “Who is Dean missing?”

Latson shrugs one shoulder as he shifts his weight. “He lost a sister, too.”

“The song is about Audrey?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. “I thought it was about a woman.”

Latson acts nonchalant. “Audrey was a woman.”

“You know what I meant.” I reach over and set my hand on his arm. “If you would rather I learn this one on my own that’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. When Dean started to write the song it was originally about an old girlfriend.”

Oh. “When did that change?”

Latson gives me a pointed look. “After our sister killed herself.”

His words make me do a double-take. “I thought you blamed someone named Levi for her death.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Hang on.” He sets his guitar down and then heads over to the corner where the mixing board sits. There’s a small desk there too, and he opens the top drawer. When he returns to me, he’s holding a picture. “This is us,” he says as he hands it to me.

The picture is of a group of people standing outside a tour bus. The girls have their arms wrapped around one another, and the guys try to look like hard asses by striking rocker poses. I find Latson standing next to Dean in the back; his hair is longer and he has his fist in the air. Dean is sticking his tongue out and giving the camera the bird. My eyes skip over the people I don’t know and land on the girls. I recognize Heidi, even without her red hair. She’s blonde in this picture and has her arm around another girl’s waist. Their heads are tipped together, but I know it’s Audrey without asking. She has the same color hair as Latson, except it’s wavy. I can see Oliver in her, especially in her eyes and mouth. She has cheekbones some women would die for.