“I’ll come with you.” My mother was at Woodie’s side. “We’ll need to come up with a story. I won’t have my boy ending up in jail because of that man.”

It went fast. Woodie threw my father onto the backseat of his truck, then went straight around to the driver’s seat. The engine roared. Mom opened the door. She was about to climb in but stopped, “Joshua, whatever happens next, you will shut your mouth. Don’t try and make things right by sacrificing yourself to the police. I know how you are.” Mechanically, I helped her get into the passenger’s seat. I closed the door. She lowered the window. “You lost it tonight but, truth be told, I should have shot him the day I heard how he’d gotten rid of my grandson. It doesn’t make what you just did right though.” She shook her head. “Nothing that has happened because of your father is right anyway.”

I watched the truck speed down the driveway until its taillights disappeared into the night. Slowly I turned back into the house. Cassie hadn’t moved an inch. She still held onto the rifle as if her life depended on it, but it faced down. I walked up the steps. The skin on my knuckles started to burn. I wriggled my fingers.

I reached Cassie’s level, my arm almost brushing against hers. Our gazes locked and then held onto each other.

Her eyes gleamed with tears. Her lips trembled. “Josh, I—”

I shook my head. “I hope I’ve done enough this time.”

I went back into the house and the door slammed shut behind me.

Cassie

“Go to YouTube and enter Sweet Second duet.”

I shouldn’t have taken Shawn’s call. I was going to be late and Josh would be waiting for me. He’d spent the last ten days in Estevez’s constituency in Arizona. We hadn’t had time together since Christmas and Steep Hill. And really then, all our energy had been spent on damage control after Josh beat his father to a bloody pulp.

“Can I call you back later tonight?” Shawn was in L.A. By the time I was back from Josh’s cocktail party it’d still be early evening in California.

“Open your laptop and go to YouTube. Now. You won’t regret it.”

I sighed and checked myself in the full-length mirror. I was all dressed-up, so I could afford one minute. I sat in front of my ancient laptop that dated back to high school.

“Are you on it?” Shawn was getting impatient at the other side of the line.

“Hang on. My computer is crazy slow.” I forced my foot to stop tapping against the table leg. I hated surprises. “Are you still able to fit through doorways? With this first hit of yours, your head must match the size of your ego. It must be tough to move around.”

Over Christmas, Sweet Second had climbed to the top of Billboard’s Digital Songs chart and, overnight, Shawn Dupret had moved from being a cool Indie lead singer to a nationwide rising star. And I was already dreaming of my royalty check.

“Ha-ha!” I heard him puff on his cigarette. “If you’re asking how I manage to lead a normal life with dozens of screaming girls following me everywhere, the answer is… I’m not leading a normal life anymore. But ‘normal’ is so over-rated, babe.”

“Glad you’re keeping your head on your shoulders.” I finally hit on the right page and clicked on the ‘play’ button straight away.

… And there I was. All over the freakin’ screen!

It was that night in Phoenix back in September and my one and only duet with Shawn. The sound was pretty bad, but it was weird to hear myself singing. I hadn’t done any demo recording, so I wasn’t yet used to it.

I listened for one minute, then paused the video. “Okay, our groundbreaking performance has been filmed. Not really a sex tape or anything sleazy like that, is it?”

“Check the number of hits.”

I did. My stomach collapsed while my heart beat its way up into my throat. It had almost reached the half-a-million mark.

“Fuck!”

“Yes, babe.”

I started flicking through the dozens and dozens of comments underneath the video but I struggled to read anything. The words jumped around in front of me making little sense.

“People want to know who I am.” That much I got.

“Correct. So do my producers. I had to put Will in a straight-jacket so I could be the one to call you. He’s hanging out in the next room.”

“Why?”

Shawn gave me a very uncool chuckle. “Because he wants to introduce you to my producers and claim some of the glory.”

“I wrote the song with you. I’m sure your producers already know that.” Otherwise my newly-appointed lawyer would make sure to remind them.

“Damn, Cass, you’re slow on the uptake. This time it isn’t about you-the Songwriter. It’s about you-the Singer-and-totally-gorgeous-duet-partner.”

I let his words settle down in my brain. “You mean—“

“—yeah, I mean, fly your ass down to L.A. right now and put your warmest smile on, because you’re gonna meet a helluva lot of people. Important people.”

The silence that followed was totally anti-climactic. It was the breakthrough I’d never let myself dream of, but I kept my mouth shut and simply leaned against the back of my chair.

“Cassandra O’Malley, hellooo? Did you just die and go to Heaven to sit between Cobain and Morrison?”

“I can’t come. Right now, writing songs is all I can do. We’ve had a big setback with the adoption and—”

“—you can’t say ‘no,’ Cass. You’re not going to say ‘no.’” Shawn’s voice was dead-cold. I’d never heard him sound like this before. Not with me anyway.

The DNA test had come back and Josh was in the clear. Trisha and the D.C. caseworker had checked our story with Lenor. The judge seemed to be happy. So, it was all good but I wasn’t going to stretch myself too thin right before Lucas came to live with us. “I can say ‘no.’ I have to.”

“Why? It’s just a duet. You hop on down to L.A. in first class, all expenses paid, and come and spend a couple of days with me to record the song. You meet a lot of great people and lunch with Will. He’s your agent now. Then, we wait and see what the studio executives think of the duet.” Another puff on his cigarette. “That’s it. I’m not asking you to drown your newborn.”

It sounded so simple. No big deal.

I checked the time in the bottom right corner of my screen. Shawn was right: I had to move my ass, but not to L.A.

“I was on my way out when you called and I really can’t be late. I’ll call you tonight, I pro—“

“—I want your answer tonight, Cass. Please don’t screw up like you did back in Phoenix.”

The guy had no fucking idea. “Listen, Shawn, I know how much I owe you. But we’re not in the same place in our lives right now. I’m married and I can’t make decisions like that without talking to Josh first.”

Maybe I should have checked with my husband first before pointing Gran’s rifle straight at his father? Maybe Jack MacBride wouldn’t have spent a week in hospital? And maybe Miranda wouldn’t have had to bribe him into keeping his mouth shut with a fat cash payment. Maybe, maybe…

“Talk to you later!” I hung up.

The reception I had to attend with Josh was right here in Georgetown, but I decided to call a cab.so I could make up the time I’d lost on YouTube.

When I reached my destination, I paid and got out of the cab. I stood with my feet glued to the sidewalk, then looked up at the exterior of the Hotel Langford. It was like traveling back in time and finding myself in front of the Oxford Union. Shivers ran through me. I didn’t want to relive that night, when I’d told Josh about Lucas, when Josh had belonged to another woman.

I shook myself. Josh belonged to me now and I belonged to him. What happened in Steep Hill was only a blip in our journey together. I stepped confidently into the plush hallway. In front of me spread an expanse of shiny marble tiles and antique rugs. Presidents had slept in this hotel and I understood why. This place was the real deal.