Anything but Ordinary(59)

“To read Huck Finn?”

“No, silly!” Bryce pinched her sister’s cheeks. “I’m going out with you!” She brushed past Sydney toward the kitchen.

“Bry—this…” Sydney started. “This is a bad idea.”

“It’s a fantastic idea! I wanna see your world, Syd.” Bryce made an arc over her head with her hand, face frozen in a dramatic, Judy Garland smile. She was imitating Sydney back when she was a little girl, back when she wanted to be a Broadway star. “I want to see the world over the rainbow!”

Sydney snorted, shaking her head. “You’re a freaking nut job.”

“I approve.” Bryce heard her mom’s voice from behind the couch. “You two could use some time out of the house together.”

Sydney turned around in shock. Bryce looked back at her mom. “Really?”

Their mother nodded, humming the first few notes of “The Hustle.” She’d had a glass of wine with dinner.

Bryce looked at Sydney, her eyebrows raised. “How often is that going to happen? Now I have to come out.”

Sydney surrendered. “You have five minutes.”

Bryce took the stairs slowly. She couldn’t help imagining with a pang what she would be doing tonight if she and Carter were still talking. Maybe ride out to the Big Chief Drive-In. The outdoor movie theater was one of the last ones left in Tennessee, with all of its old neon and rusty decorations from the fifties. When the nights were hot and the mosquitoes weren’t too bad, they sat on top of his car, drinking slushies. The whole night when they kissed he tasted like blue-raspberry.

“Stop,” she whispered aloud, throwing on her blue dress from the rehearsal dinner and her bridesmaid heels. Stop thinking about Carter. He knew what was happening to her, and they couldn’t hide from it. Seeing each other would only cause them both more pain.

“And what time will you be home?” their mother was saying when Bryce came upstairs.

“One a.m.,” Sydney said. “Now please move, we’re going to be late!” They could hear the engine of her friend’s blue muscle car humming outside.

Bryce’s mom stepped aside and swept to kiss her youngest daughter’s cheek as she went through the door. Then she kissed Bryce.

“Be careful,” she said.

By the time they scrambled down the sidewalk and shoved themselves into the backseat, Bryce’s breaths were coming thin and painful. She closed her mouth, trying to bring in air through her nose. This was definitely a bad idea. But something made her come out.

Maybe it was the way her parents’ footsteps drifted from above down to her room, the sounds of them being and talking. Or the fact that she hadn’t bothered to fill her drawers with any pants or long-sleeved shirts for fall, because she didn’t know if she was going to wear them.

She would make this worth it.

In the car, Sydney didn’t acknowledge Bryce. Either she was mortified by her dorky older sister or she just couldn’t hear her over the roaring engine and chest-rattling bass beat.

Bryce rolled down the window a crack to get some fresh air. Sydney’s friends were all boys, skinny with tattoos and hairstyles slicked back like James Dean.

They pulled up to a red brick warehouse in a row of identical-looking warehouses. They were in Nashville’s industrial district, or what was left of it. The only thing to distinguish their spot from the rest of the sprawling buildings was a huge, red number 2 painted above a slatted metal door.

Bryce got out and Sydney motioned to her friends to go inside. Bryce was about to tell her not to worry, she’d be in the back, when Sydney said, “This is Lounge Two. This is where I work.” Sydney put a cigarette between her lips and lit up.

“Work?” Bryce’s eyes widened. Sydney let out a loud, barking laugh.

“Chill, Bryce. This isn’t a strip club, it’s a music venue.” She spoke in a voice Bryce didn’t fully recognize but didn’t dislike, either. It was tough. Professional.

Bryce’s face grew hot. “I didn’t think it was a strip club!”

“I go around the club and get people’s drink orders when there’s a show.”

“Is there a show tonight?”

“Every weekend. A DJ set. And you’re lucky, this one’s amazing. He’s from South London.”

“Why haven’t you told Mom and Dad?”

At the mention of their parents, Sydney tensed, taking a deep drag. “They stopped giving a shit about anything after your accident, Bryce. And this place was my saving grace. Swear to God. I mean, yeah, drinking is kind of part of the job. Customers want to take shots with you, you do it. But they’re going to make me a bartender when school starts, and they’ve already booked a few bands I found online. They like me here, Bryce.” Sydney’s face lit up. “They think I have good taste in music.”

“That’s…that’s awesome, Syd,” Bryce said, meaning it. She felt proud. “But you should tell Mom and Dad. Especially now that”—she swallowed back dark thoughts—“now that things seem to be getting better.”

“Yeah.” Sydney stamped out her cigarette under her heel. “Hmm.”

“They won’t freak out about it, you’re going to be eighteen.”

“Shh…” Syd looked around. “Twenty-one. I’m twenty-one.”