“Well, that’s the thing.” Darrin was practically bouncing, which was sort of funny considering that he was talking about some of the most annoyingly serious musicians ever to grace the booths of his studio. Also, it was strange for a guy with such a hardcore look. His tattoos were uncountable, his hair was perfectly coiffed in a rockabilly cut, and the spikes on his collar and wristband would intimidate a pit bull. Any behavior that was giddy in nature seemed completely out of place on him.

“What’s the thing? Did they actually figure out how to play their instruments? Or write a song that isn’t copied from the SCUM manifesto?” Lacy giggled a little. She only knew about that particular piece of literature from her feminist neighbor Jaylene. Jay loved Bitchy Ether. She might have been their only fan.

“No, none of that. Apparently the bitchy ether is a lifestyle, and not just a name. The band has broken up, and I was forced to listen to various reasons why for at least twenty minutes. Which brings me to my point, my darling.”

Dammit, she knew it. Now he was going to tell her that since the schedule was empty, he didn’t need her. At least he was giving her the news gently with terms of endearment. Darrin was the only person she knew who could say things like darling without sounding condescending.

Well, if he was going to be graceful about it, so was she. She could save the crying for home, like she usually did, where she could bury her face in Lance’s pillow. “Out with it, beloved Boss. I can take it. Tell me your point.” She’d become amazingly good at false strength. He didn’t even notice her knees wobbling.

“The point is, that we suddenly have an opening for studio time. And I wouldn’t dream of opening it publicly without offering it to you first.”

Oh.

She blinked, surprise momentarily throwing her speechless. That was definitely not what she’d expected him to say.

Maybe she’d heard him wrong. “You’re offering their studio time to me?” With the cut back to just one operating booth, the calendar had filled up quickly. Lacy wasn’t on the books now to get in for months, and that was with staff preferential treatment.

“I know you were hoping to record your new album, and this gets you in ten weeks out instead of after the new year. How much do you love me?” Now he actually was bouncing. It was so adorable, she could almost ignore that it was based on false happiness.

It was also really amazingly kind. Lacy may have teared up. Only a tiny bit, though.

“I love you the mostest, D. Thank you.” She really meant it, too. Despite the pit that had just appeared in her stomach. She smiled extra big so he wouldn’t notice her hand resting on it, trying to quell the sudden wave of nausea.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just can’t wait to hear what you’ve been working on. It’s been a shit year for you, Lace, but I know your music is going to be amazing. I’m so proud of you. Get the fuck out of here before I get emotional.” He waved his hand toward the door. “And stop pretending to fine-tune. Go grab a drink or something. Have a good weekend. Tell your sister I said, what’s up!” He was practically shouting as she ran from the office.

Don’t throw up, don’t throw up. Lacy darted into the bathroom and leaned over the sink. What the hell was she going to do now? There was no way she’d have an album ready to record in ten weeks. She was doubtful she’d have one ready in four months. Dammit, she should just own up and tell Darrin the truth—none of the songs he’d heard her playing the last few months were anywhere near complete. And definitely nowhere near recording-ready. Hard to record with no lyrics.

But after his speech about being proud and all that, she couldn’t bear to see his disappointment. Couldn’t bear to admit to her total fraud-hood.

No, better not make any rash decisions. She’d talk to Folx about it first. Right now she had to get through her panic attack. Deep breaths and a splash of cold water usually helped. That and unloading on her writing group. She dug out her phone and used the group’s app to send an urgent message to Folx. Need to talk. Message me when you can?

Lacy felt a little better already. Maybe even better enough to get through the rest of her shift.

Wait— Darrin said she could leave early. That helped her stomach subside. She’d wait for Folx’s reply in the comfort of her own home. She’d probably be dragged into helping her sister, Andy, with wedding plans, though. Which was fine. As challenging as it was to hear endless conversations about linens and venue options, living with a bride-to-be was fantastic for keeping one’s mind off one’s troubles. Though it did make Lacy think a lot about her own wedding plans. At least it was great for keeping her troubles to herself. Engaged women, especially ones engaged to prominent billionaires, were too busy to pry. Andy’s preoccupation with her upcoming nuptials was the only reason she hadn’t noticed that her precious baby sister was keeping secrets.

One more deep breath. Lacy peered in the mirror. She was a little paler than normal, but otherwise looked fine. She fluffed her long blonde curls and practiced a fake smile. The trick was squinting. If you squinted just slightly when you smiled, people thought you meant it. The things learned when hiding from the world. One day she’d write a book. When she got her words back, that was.

Opening the bathroom door, she almost walked smack into Kat.

“Um, oh my God!” Kat pursed her lips at Lacy and stared meaningfully.

“Um, oh my God, what?” Of course this chick was waiting outside the bathroom. Thank the Lord she hadn’t actually thrown up.

“Darrin told me you’re taking Bitchy Ether’s recording time! I’m so stoked for you! I’m going to do your drums. It’s my gift to you. Of course, Darrin said he’d pay me my normal rate, but I’m really doing it for you. Oh, honey, come here!” She threw her arms wide, inviting Lacy to walk into her embrace.

Lacy did, but took another deep breath first, this time not because of her nerves but because of her nose. It was her experience that Kat usually smelled like more patchouli than she was comfortable with. Some of the scent always clung to her post-hug, which was tolerable, but it was best not to do an inhale during the actual act. Inhalation led to choking fits.

And this hug was going on too long. She needed to breathe again. “I was supposed to call you?” she asked as she pushed away, using the question as a reason to extricate herself.

“Yeah! There’s this band playing tonight that is like soooo good, I swear to God you will love them so much, so we have to go. Right?”

And that was another thing that sometimes bugged Lacy about Kat. She talked like a pre-teen. That was annoying as hell. Kat’s taste in music was impeccable, and the fact that she was able to keep tabs on all that went on in the Boston music scene was even more annoying. Yet another area where Kat had it going on.

Lacy was torn on the invitation. She really needed to talk to Folx, but if he wasn’t online, she’d just be sitting around home fretting and nodding at centerpiece options. Good music also might help resolve the tight knot in her belly. At the very least, it might be inspiring. And, man, did she need inspiration. “Fine. What’s the club?”

“Tigerstripes.”

Lacy sighed heavily. She’d have to change first, then. Tigerstripes was an uber-trendy place, a total “see and be seen” for local musicians. Her yoga pants and tank top might be comfortable and fine for solo studio days, but she couldn’t wear them somewhere cool, somewhere people might know her. It was her least favorite part of being a musician—she really couldn’t go out in public without being “in character” so to speak. Her sister usually wore pantsuits to work and then got herself casual and comfy when they went out, but Lacy didn’t have that luxury.