Page 95 of Saving Graces
“No.” Cassidy shook her head emphatically. “Fuck her and fuck Lane. We deserve better.”
“Well, yeah,” Kinsey agreed, her voice a little more even. “We do.”
“We’re going to be rich as fuck and famous as fuck and successful as fuck, and hot as fuck,” Cassidy fumed, glowering out the window. “And for the rest of their lives they’ll watch from afar and think I could have had that.”
“Oh,” said Kinsey, “wow, you really went there, huh?”
Somehow she didn’t think that Savannah Grace’s best friend was going to be overly impressed by Kinsey’s incoming money or fame. She also politely didn’t mention that for all Cassidy’s bluster she was clearly on the verge of tears. Instead, she slung an arm around her friend. Cassidy nestled in close, her head on Kinsey’s shoulder. She smelled like peach shampoo.
“Guess it’s just you and me against the world,” Cassidy said softly.
Kinsey swallowed. “Guess so.”
They played Atlanta that night, Kinsey smashing the shit out of the drums and as Cassidy sang The Runner Kinsey bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted blood. She left the motel room that night, pacing the lobby and the parking lot the way she had when she used to talk to Rosalie for hours. Despite the cool night air she felt caged, and on her twelfth lap of the lot she picked up a rock and hurled it at the fence with every ounce of her strength. It bounced off the metal bars with barely a ping, making her want to scream. When she made it back to the room, Cassidy was asleep. She pulled the pillow over her head and tried not to cry.
They played their way through Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. In Tampa, Kinsey got drunk after the show and hooked up with a pretty blonde named Stevie who’d watched them play and approached her at the bar afterwards.
“Your first real groupie!” Cassidy teased her when she tripped back into their room the next morning. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes though and Kinsey only felt sick and miserable. Stevie was a good kisser and a nice person and Kinsey had treated her like some kind of human tonic that could get someone else out of her head. It hadn’t worked. Touching a body that wasn’t the body she craved only made her feel sadder. She wondered if she’d literally ever want to have sex again.
By the time they made it to North Carolina she found herself wishing she hadn’t deleted and blocked Rosalie’s number. It would have at least been something just to see if she’d ever texted or called or tried in any way at all. Not knowing drove Kinsey crazy. It’s better this way, she told herself, sternly. A text message from Rosalie would only throw her back down into a spiral, her resolve weakening, happy to accept the crumbs Rosalie would give her.
In Charlotte, she and Cassidy had gotten drunk together, stumbling back to the motel, arm in arm.
“So, when are you going to indulge one of your many groupies?” Kinsey asked her as they practically fell in the door of their room. She was genuinely intrigued. People everywhere flirted with Cassidy, gazes filled with hungry intent landed on her in the hundreds every night as she took the stage. So far, she was yet to see Cassidy do more than flirt a little back before the attempt to pick her up was rebuffed.
Cassidy giggled in the dark motel room, kicking off her heels. “Is that how being on the road is going to go, when we’re on our own tour? You and me inviting hot young things back to our hotel room for wild sex parties?”
“If you want.” Kinsey smirked, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She loved that Cassidy thought they’d still be sharing a hotel room. They didn’t really need to still be sharing a room now, for that matter. “Cassie.” The intense amount of whiskey she’d consumed loosened Kinsey’s tongue. “How do you identify? Like, in terms of who you want to fuck?”
Cassidy paused. She flopped back on her own bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“I used to think I was straight,” she said. “And then maybe a little to the left of straight.” She held up her hands to demonstrate to Kinsey where left was. “You know… that I just liked masculine people.” She lay there for a minute longer. “But recently,” she said softly, letting her hand fall all the way to the bed beside her, “I’ve realized I'm quite a bit queerer than that.”
Kinsey opened her mouth. Then she shut it again. She considered crawling over and lying next to her. Underneath all the whiskey, Kinsey’s heart ached. It would be so damn good to sleep with someone who really might distract her from her own feelings. She was pretty sure all it would take was about three drunken steps from one bed to the other, to cross the divide between them. She closed her eyes and tried to think about it coherently. When she opened her eyes again, it was morning and her head pounded so badly she briefly considered whether death would be preferable.
The tour moved up through Virginia, West Virginia and back through Kentucky, arriving in Louisville on a Thursday. They were staying two nights as a mini break, since it was only a couple of hours away from Nashville. Coral and most of Honeybaked’s members as well as Eliza and Franklin stayed on the bus, heading on to Nashville for twenty-four hours to go see their loved ones. Neither Cassidy nor Kinsey had a reason to go home right now, so the two of them were going to hang out in Louisville until their gig the following night. They stayed in a five-star hotel as a treat, and also, a little, just because they could.
Their suite was ridiculous, two big king-sized beds, a jacuzzi, panoramic views, a fridge stocked with champagne. It made everything seem silly, heady, possible. Cassidy headed out to explore, while Kinsey stayed behind, enjoying a bit of alone time for the first time in weeks.
An hour later, the phone rang, reception letting her know a visitor had arrived for Kinsey. Her heart banged in her ears and she told them to send them up without asking for their name. Could it…? Surely not?
The door buzzed. Kinsey launched off the bed, heart in her throat as she tiptoed to the door. Metal handle cold against her nervous, sweating hands, she opened the door.
And there, standing in the doorway, was Lane.
“Hey,” Lane said, their voice practically a whisper. “She’s not here, is she?”
Kinsey stared at them. They looked immensely vulnerable.
“No,” she said. “She’s out.” She’d been so mad at Lane for crushing Cassidy’s heart all this time, but now, seeing them face to face, all she could do was pull her old friend into her arms and give them a tight hug. Lane breathed out in surprise and hugged her back. “Come in, you idiot.”
Lane immediately clocked the single king sized bed. Kinsey felt the tension climb a notch. She gestured to the huge white sofa facing the view, and they sat down.
“How are you?” she asked after a minute, Lane’s jiggling knee was shaking the couch.
“Fucking terrible,” they said, then huffed out a small laugh. “I fucked up.” Their caramel eyes were imploring. “I fucked up so bad.”
“Yeah.” Kinsey had nothing to add to that assessment. Lane winced but nodded.
