Page 47 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“I say we blow this hole as soon as Nico’s set is over and you say your hellos and goodbyes, little sister, and then we head down to The Three Clubs to meet up with my friends from work. Then hit up either the Rooftop at The Standard downtown or The Exchange, because I know the DJ who’s on at midnight and I should be on the list. Depends on how we’re feeling vis-à-vis guys with degrees and jobs or whatever.”

Tired. I’m already feeling tired of all of this. I already miss the twins. I miss the house. I miss Shane, and not just because he’s such an amazing kisser.

“Is Netflix and wine really not an option?”

Remi laughs because she doesn’t know me well enough to realize that I’m one hundred percent serious, and Harley rolls her eyes because she knows me so well, she totally called this a week and a half ago.

“I knew it. I told you I’d lose you to the Westside.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m out with you.” I raise my hands in the air and do a little butt dance in my chair. “Woohoo! Friday night in Hollywood!”When can I go home?

“Actually, I think it was Jennifer Lawrence,” Remi declares. “The movie that guy was in. He’s still looking over here. Don’t look, though.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Harley is frowning at me, and I don’t blame her. I am the oldest twenty-four-year old in Los Angeles. Thank God the house music fades and my brother steps out on stage. I am so happy to see him that I almost forget that his best friend’s fingers were inside me not very long ago. Nope. Now I’m thinking about it again. The way these young women are hooting and hollering for Nico, that’s what I want to do when I think about Shane.

Shane.

He needs to see this.

I pull out my phone and take a little video of the enthusiastic female crowd and the way my brother is standing there in front of the microphone, casually tuning his guitar and smirking out over the darkness. He doesn’t say anything. He just launches into one of his upbeat fan favorites, and the hooting and hollering kicks up a decibel. Okay, I’m proud of the fucker. This is cool. I yell out, “I love you, Nico!!! Wooooo!” My brothergrins in a way that tells me he heard me and recognized my voice.

I send the video as a text, to Shane, with no message. I email it to my Grammie, explaining where I am. I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans so I can give my brother the attention he deserves. Until I feel it vibrate. I move my phone to my lap and discreetly check the screen.

SHANE: What a stud. Guess this means you got there safely.

ME: I sent you that picture of our feet walking down Cahuenga!

SHANE: That was not evidence of your safe arrival at The Hotel Café. Those boots are really fucking hot, though.

ME: Well thank you, but they’re made for walking and they got me here safe and sound.

SHANE: Good. Have fun.

ME: You too.

SHANE: Not too much fun.

ME: You too.

“Seriously?”Harley is reading over my shoulder. “Why are you even here?”

“Sorry. Putting my phone away.”

“Like hell you are,” she whisper-yells into my ear. “I mean, what are you doing here when you should be in the bathroom taking a boob pic for sexy daddy boss?”

“I am not sending him a boob pic! I do not send boob pics.”

Right?

THIRTEEN

SHANE

It’s almost one. I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for an hour, after a night of catching up on e-mails with Netflix on in the background, getting up to see if Willa came home every time I think I hear something, and trying to read one page of a Steve Martin book for forty-five minutes. I came this close to waking up the kids just so they could keep me company.

The lavender isn’t working anymore.