Page 73 of Saving Graces
Cassidy surveyed her. She seemed to mean it.
“Listen,” Cassidy said. “This is exactly how I want to look after myself. I want to go out there on Friday and I want to fucking kill it. I don’t want to fall in a heap just because some cute person didn’t want me back. Okay? This is all I want.”
Kinsey nodded, her dark eyes soft.
“I get that,” she said. “And I’ll support that all the way if it’s what you want. But maybe then let’s not give a fuck if you cry, okay? Just cry all the way through the damn song if you need to. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in tears before. It’s just me, Cass.”
Instantly Cassidy burst into tears at the warmth of her support. Kinsey gave her a cheeky grin.
“That’s it!” she encouraged. Cassidy laughed through her tears and blew her nose.
They played Green Light Go again, only this time Kinsey didn’t stop when Cassidy faltered. Instead she just picked up the vocal until Cassidy could join back in. It sounded kind of ridiculous with Cassidy’s wavering tragic voice singing a bright happy song, but Kinsey patched it perfectly. When they got to the end, Cassidy nodded, sniffed, sipped some water, and tried it again.
For three hours straight they played their songs together until Cassidy could sing every damn one of them - the happy ones, the sexy ones, the ones filled with longing, the sad songs - all without dissolving. When she finally put her guitar down, Kinsey came out from behind the kit and wrapped her arms around her in another big hug.
“You’re a fucking rock star,” she said. Cassidy clung tight to her warm body, before finally making herself let go.
That Friday they played the gig as planned. Cassidy felt wrung out with emotion and yet stepping on the stage her spine straightened, her feet planted firmly on the floor. The heaviness on her shoulders lifted and everything clicked into place. There was more heat behind her voice, more depth to the sad songs, more desperation and the crowd were right there with her. Belting out lyrics about Lane with eight hundred people singing along with her was finally the catharsis she’d failed to find drinking her body weight of whisky.
Backstage, another set of arms waited for her.
“Coral!” She’d never been so glad to see someone’s face before. Coral smiled wide and wrapped her arms around her. After a moment, Cassidy pulled back, eyes narrowed. “Did Savannah send you?”
“She mentioned you might be sad,” Coral said, “but she neglected to mention that you might literally be on fire. What the fuck, baby girl, when did you get this good?”
Cassidy beamed. Coral was the first person to ever take her seriously when she said she wanted to be a musician. To prove her faith in Cassidy right felt like the highlight of her career.
“She’s incredible, right?” Kinsey stood off to the side. She looked slightly terrified. Cassidy almost giggled at the awed expression on her face.
“Coral,” she said, “this is Kinsey. She’s desperately in love with you.”
Kinsey went pink.
“Oh,” said Coral, “honey, it’s mutual. You’re talented as fuck.” She smiled. “And gorgeous, look at you.”
Kinsey lit up. She looked like she was about six years old and the Easter Bunny had just told her she was their favorite kid.
“Thank you,” she managed. “You’re like, the entire reason I wanted to be a drummer.”
“I’m flattered,” Coral said, “and now I also feel four hundred years old. Shall we go out for a drink?”
The three of them ended up in an upscale wine bar, the kind that was way too full and exclusive to let them in until Coral Sanchez showed up at the front door and magically a table appeared.
“Just soda water for me,” Cassidy said. She wasn’t sure if she would ever want to drink again. Kinsey grinned at her and gave her a quick sideways squeeze from the booth seat next to her. Coral cocked her head at their touch.
“Been going through it, honey?” Coral asked and Cassidy sighed. She gave the barest of facts, not really wanting to go into it. Coral listened thoughtfully, without treating it like a big deal which Cassidy appreciated.
“Being on stage helps,” Cassidy finished and Coral nodded.
“It can. Who did you say was your manager?”
The next morning, Hailey called her. A band called Honeybaked was going on the road next week. They suddenly had a spot for an opening act. Cassidy sat down, hard. She knew that name well. Their drummer - when she wasn’t touring with Savannah Grace - was Coral Sanchez.
“Can I… call you back?” Cassidy asked and hung up. Was this riding Savannah’s coattails? Was this a sympathy slot? Would Kinsey forgive her if she made them turn down another stellar tour offer?
Finally, she called Coral.
“Is this… because I’m Savannah’s sister?” she asked. “Is this you taking care of me?”
