After telling her what I wanted, I hung up.
It only took her an hour to get the things I needed, and after checking to make sure it was all there, I climbed the short stairs to Braxton’s room. It was quiet as hell on the other side, making me paranoid that she’d snuck out again. Knocking, I waited, and still, there was no sound. Had she fallen asleep?
I knocked again, and finally, thankfully, I heard her footsteps.
“Go away, Loren,” she whispered when she came and stood by the door.
“It’s Rich.” I didn’t like that she still hesitated instead of immediately opening her door. Two months ago, she would have welcomed me in with a smile I took for granted. When the door cracked, and I was staring into her big, brown eyes, I exhaled.
My relief was short-winded by her cold tone. “What do you want?”
“I want to apologize. I’ve been a jerk.”
“It’s fine,” she said in a tone that assured me it wasn’t.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t feel the need to keep this door between us. That’s my fault, and I want to make it up to you.”
When her brows dipped, I knew I had her curiosity, if not her forgiveness. Not yet anyway. “How?”
Unable to help my smile, I wordlessly held up the bag from the wig and costume store.
“You weren’t kidding!” Braxton exclaimed as she stood in front of the wax replicas.
I chuckled as she gaped at Houston’s likeness. He was the only one in our exhibit who wasn’t smiling. That was pretty goddamn accurate if you asked me.
When she was finally satisfied that it really wasn’t him, she moved to the one of me. I was standing next to Houston, wearing one of my hoodies, and holding a set of drumsticks—lip piercing, silver eyes with gold flecks, and all.
“It looks just like you,” she whispered so no one would overhear.
I was wearing a disguise too.
Braxton had laughed for ten minutes straight when I donned the brown Annie wig, sideburns, mustache, and black-rimmed glasses. I looked like the nerdy version of Jacques Grande from The Love Guru.
I have no idea what made Dani choose the short, purple wig for Braxton—or why it worked.
I just knew with those expressive brown eyes and adorable freckles that she looked like a goddamn manga character.
And now, all I could think about when I looked at her was the anime porn I used to watch as a kid. She’d changed into a black, sleeveless ribbed dress so form-fitting I wondered if she was wearing panties. And she’d paired it with black thigh-high socks and her combat boots.
“Loren’s going to be pissed when he finds out they made his nose too big,” she remarked with a snort.
She was now standing in front of Loren’s that was placed on the other side of mine, leaving me sandwiched between Houston and Loren. The museum had captured his abs since his shirt was depicted open, the medallion he never took off, and even his signature smirk.
With an evil gleam in her eye, she posed next to the statue and quickly snapped a selfie. I was pretty sure she was planning to show it to him later.
I know it seemed shady not to have invited Houston and Loren, but I’d barely talked her into letting me come. I was hoping to at least soften her up enough for them to win her over on their own.
“I can’t believe this is your first time seeing it,” she said absently after she’d moved on. Calvin’s wax replica was right next to Loren’s.
“It’s only been six months since they added it, and this is our first time back in the city since our last tour.”
“Do you miss him?” she blurted.
I was a little startled at her rapid change of subject.
“Who?” I don’t know why I asked when I already knew.
“Calvin,” she said while still admiring his statue. “You guys don’t seem like you mourn him.”
Because we don’t. I forced myself not to shrug or sound too defensive when I spoke. “It’s been months.”
Her head turned, and then she stared at me.
I knew she was disappointed by my cold answer. She left me under the scrutiny of her gaze for what seemed like forever before nodding as if she accepted my answer. I could already see her shutting down and cursed Calvin from the grave. I was not going to let him take anything else of mine away.
“We weren’t friends,” I heard myself say. My tone was hesitant as I chose