Page 27 of Lance

We find a table near the windows, secluded from the small crowd with various pieces of luggage clustered around the bar—probably guests waiting for their rooms to be ready. The rest of the place is nearly deserted in the mid-afternoonlull.

“You guys have a show tonight?” she asks once we’re seated. I watch as her hands dart out to straighten the napkin holder, the bottles of salt andpepper.

“Just a casual thing,” I explain. “We’re playing some of our new stuff to some of the label guys and some industry people. We’re trying to get approval to get back in the studio before the next tour and they want to see how it’sreceived.”

She nods, still not looking at me. “I know James is itching to start recording.” Her fidgeting hands move to the small vase of flowers, lining it up between the salt and pepper shakers, moving it slightly back and forth until it’s perfectly parallel to thenapkins.

“Willa.” Her fingers finally still and she looks up at me. “Whathappened?”

She seems to deflate a little, her shoulders hunching. It’s funny—as soon as I saw her in the lobby I thought how different she seemed from the girl at the party. But this is the first time she’s looked like the girl I first met at one of our shows all those years ago. James’s shy little sister with the quick blush, clumsy and tripping and struggling to string a sentence together without crying. Sitting across from her now, with her shoulders hunched and her expression so defeated, she looks like the Minnie that Iremember.

Before she can answer, a waiter appears at our table. “Good afternoon, folks. Will you be eating with ustoday?”

I look over at Willa and raise my eyebrows. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a damndrink.”

Her laughter surprises me, coming out in a quick burst as her face brightens again, the old Minnie-esque expression disappearing as quickly as it had come. “A drink soundsgreat.”

“Vodka and cranberry?” I ask, trying not to think about the sweet tartness I’d been able to smell on her breath when she leaned into me at theparty.

“Whiskey,” she says to the waiter. “Macallans, if you have it.Neat.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Nice.” I look up at the waiter. “I’ll have thesame.”

She leans back in her chair, her hands mercifully still, looking a hell of a lot more at ease than she’d been a few minutes ago. “So,” she says. “James is freaking out,huh?”

“I wouldn’t say freaking out. Definitelyworried.”

She frowns. “I didn’t mean to make himworry.”

I don’t like the look of that frown. “Honestly, I think he’s mostly annoyed he’ll have to deal with yourmother.”

She laughs again and it should definitely freak me out that I get such a rush of enjoyment from being the one to put that smile on her face. “I don’t feel too sorry for him when it comes to dealing with Mom. I’malwaysthe one who has to deal with her. Wouldn’t you think that a woman who was fine with her son not finishing his junior year ofhigh schoolwould be equally chill when it comes toallof her children’s educationalpursuits?”

“That seems like a reasonable assumption,” I say and shesnorts.

“Well, it would be wrong. My mother isobsessedwith my schooling. Always has been. She let James run around the country with his band when he wasn’t even old enough to drink legally, but heaven forbid I do one little thing outside her grand plan.” She’s breathing heavily when she looks back up at me. Something in my face makes her wince. “Sorry. None of this is yourproblem.”

“I asked you to come have a drink because I wanted to talk about it,” I remind her. “You don’t have toapologize.”

She sighs, her hands reaching for the vase again before stopping. With what appears to be concerted effort, she returns them to her lap. “I just needed abreak.”

The waiter returns with our drinks and I watch as Willa takes a long gulp of her whiskey. She winces a little, wiping hermouth.

“I’ve been wondering if maybe…” I clear my throat, not sure how to say it without sounding like an ass. “If this had anything to do with what happened the othernight?”

She takes another sip of her whiskey, watching me over the rim of her glass, her eyes twinkling with what I’m pretty sure is amusement. “You want to know if I dropped out of college because you rejectedme?”

I run my hands through my hair. So much for not sounding like an ass. “I just thought…you seemed upset that night. And maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. But I feel like I should have tried to talk to you, instead of just worrying about what James would think if he saw ustogether.”

“In your defense, my brother can be prettyscary.”

She’s trying to laugh it off but she also won’t meet my eyes. “Willa, I’mserious.”

She sighs, sliding the glass along the table, back and forth between her hands. “Have you ever wished you could be someone else?” She looks up at me, her expression serious, and I’m caught off-guard. It wasn’t what I wasexpecting.

“Sure. Doesn’teveryone?”

She doesn’t smile and there’s no humor in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been good at figuring out what other people are thinking.” Her face hardens with bitterness. “One of the many things I’ve wished I could change aboutme.”