With the sun beating down on my shoulders, I started to second guess my decision. At this rate, I'll pass out before I get inside. There's no way they'll get through all these people!
A movement up ahead at the gas station door drew my eyes. There was a woman, her hair all wild red curls that made her skin ghostly in comparison. Most of her was hidden under a giant sun hat, sunglasses gleaming where they perched on her elegant nose.
She was inching down the line in a pair of ankle-breaking heels, whispering into the ears of the gathered people. Leaning in, she'd either scribble on a clipboard in her arms, or wave the person away.
The murmurs grew as the line shortened. Disgruntled men and women melted to the sidelines as the mystery red-head cut through.
What's happening, what is she saying? Why are people leaving? The closer she got to me, the tighter my stomach became. The unease was turning my knuckles white, I had to drop my guitar to my hip just to keep a hold on it.
Fuck, don't come here, don't talk to me. Somehow, I was sure if she spoke to me, she'd tell me to leave.
She'd ruin my chance.
The woman whispered to the guy in front of me, a lanky dude who listened... then whispered back. A single word, I thought, but I didn't catch it.
The woman straightened, nodded, asked him his name and scribbled something down. He remained where he was, and then she set those giant mirrored glasses on me. I could see myself in the reflection, I looked paler than she even did. Calm down, just chill out.
Her lips, perfect rubies, spread in a tiny smile. I always wondered how some women managed to look so put together during tours in spite of all the traveling and time on the road. Bending low, her heels making her taller than me, I felt her breath tickle my ear. “Hey there,” she whispered, “I need to ask you something. Real quick. 'Kay?”
Swallowing, I gave a sharp nod. “Uh, sure, ask me anything.” I didn't know who she was, but she was obviously working for the band in some capacity. Could she be their manager? I was familiar with the band's music, not their business details.
“Right,” she said, pen tapping her clipboard. “This is just so we can weed down to the people Drezden wants to listen to. Answer honestly, one word if you can. What do you think is the most important thing you need to be a good guitarist?”
Oh, shit, I thought quickly. Why didn't I eavesdrop on the guy in front of me? Fuck fuck fuck... what's the most important thing you need to be a good guitarist? What kind of question is that?
She was staring at me, no longer smiling. Impatience was written on her soft features, gravel crunching under her fidgeting heels. I needed to say something, and I needed to do it soon.
But what could she want to hear?
No, what could Drezden want to hear?
My skull felt swollen, too many worries bubbling up. The answer I'd give would wreck me or reward me. I didn't know much about Drezden beyond how he sounded when he was singing. Well, I know he beat up Johnny Muse last night. That doesn't help me much. My mind was blank. I couldn't plot out anything worth saying.
Staring at the red-head, I licked my lips with my dry tongue. The word that left me had a mind of its own, escaping from my subconscious before I could try and stop it. “Honesty.”
The way she twisted her mouth, leaning away from me, it sank my heart. That was not the look of someone who was happy with my answer. “Sorry, what do you mean?”
Sweat crept down my spine. It was even collecting uncomfortably under my breasts. What did I mean? It had just come out, but... But it's true, I thought to myself. It's actually kind of true. “Uh, well. I think a good guitar player is someone who is honest with themselves, with the music. If that makes sense?”
Her frown said it didn't. “Hm. Drezden asked me to look for something else.”
My skin was cold. Defeat was worming into my core; I'd fucked my answer up, destroyed my chance. “Can I answer again?”
She hesitated, pen twisting between her elegant fingers. “What's your name?”
“Lola Cooper.”
“Cooper,” she said, lifting her glasses to squint at me. “You're Sean's sister, aren't you?”