television with the headline “Escaped Inmate from Louisiana State Penitentiary Last Seen in Stolen Blue Civic Heading North on I-81.”
They all looked from the screen, to the matching man, to the parking lot. And the blue Civic he’d parked there ten minutes earlier.
For at least two years, her parents pressed pause on setting up their daughter.
As she and Cassie talked, Bree slid a CD into the car player, her eyes ticking up to Chip’s farthest right-hand window while she did so. She could see Chip sitting there at a plastic pop-up table. The room was empty of everything except his computer, chair, and a slew of papers covering his makeshift desk. He was on the phone. He stood, and she scooted out from her seat and shut the door.
The dog’s barks grew louder, in rhythm with his vertical jumps.
“Hush,” Bree said, her ears crackling with his reverberating barks. She moved back to the porch, excitement rising as she slipped on her tap shoes.
“For the record,” Cassie said, “my official statement is that I am not in support of any of your decisions here and henceforth regarding this situation.”
“Noted and appreciated.” Bree spotted Birdie’s car coming down the street.
“See, I don’t think you understand what appreciated means. Appreciated means you see my logic and will change—”
“Gotta run,” Bree cut in. “Shake your fist at the ref for me!”
Bree set the phone on the porch railing and danced down the steps once more, ignoring the clap of her heels and toes as she strode down the sidewalk. Her face broke into a wide smile as the car’s doors opened and out spilled Myra, Evan, Luke, and Birdie, all dressed in warm-up attire.
Luke, who preferred the millennial man-bun look, eyed the property. “So this is the notorious Evie’s house. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of this place.”
Bree frowned, and Luke amended, “And your house.”
She motioned to the cleared front porch. She had meticulously moved every pot and plant to the yard. Thankfully this was not a typical Virginia April, when the sky eked out one final, surprise blizzard before giving in to green trees and mossy undergrowth. The sun hovered overhead, the sky rich and blue, the air a crisp fifty-four degrees.
The group looked at the freshly hand-mopped porch, the stack of water bottles, and the folded hand towels. Bree was ready.
She checked her phone again: 11:48 a.m.
They spent the next five minutes slipping on their tap shoes, warming up, and lining the porch walls with the props they’d need, mostly umbrellas and fedoras. “This is really nice,” Myra said, stretching one leg on the porch railing as if it were a ballet barre. “Built-in studio, fresh air, lots of space. Good acoustics. Man, if you’d let us, Bree, we could practice here every day.”
“Let you!” Bree practically barked. “I’d like to force you!”
Their expressions tempered her tone. “Because I’m committed to us getting cast in this play.”
“Musical,” Luke corrected.
She shook a finger at Luke. “Right. Musical.”
“Let’s be honest,” Myra said, lifting her foot off the makeshift bar. “The chances of all five of us getting a spot are pretty much nil.” She turned to Evan, the one who, amazingly enough, was even less talented than Bree. “Have you guys made plans for if you don’t get cast?”
“Why does everybody look at me when you ask this question?” Evan retorted.
“All right, guys, we don’t have time for another pity party.” Birdie released her leg from a stretch that looked debilitating. “Bree, where can we play the music?”
Bree dropped her phone on the pack of water bottles. The time now: 11:56 a.m. “My car. I’ll go turn it on.”
Birdie put her hand on her hip, her arm slender like that of a prima ballerina. She raised a quizzical brow. “Your car?”
“Yeah,” Bree called behind her as she stepped off the porch. “The stereo will be perfect.”
Birdie moved to the railing. “Won’t that be too loud for the neighbors?”
Bree waved away her question. “Stonewall Heights couldn’t be more loyal to the Barter. They’ll probably all come and watch in support. It’ll be like a free show for them.”
Bree threw her car door open just as Russell, again, jumped out from behind the car and started barking.
Even at this distance Bree heard the group take in a breath, several hands flying to their chests at the sight of the murder dog.
Bree turned the key and pressed Play. Then lowered all four windows, releasing the music from its captivity.