Like a Sister(38)

I had too many options. There were posters plastered on the walls with arrows pointing a million ways. PRODUCTION. DRESSING ROOM. BROADCAST ROOM. STAGE. Free could be in any of them. We kept walking, destination unknown, while a redhead as thin and pink as a Pocky stick blocked our path. “Erin, baby, I’m sorry to hear about Desiree. Feels like we just had drinks last week to discuss that club you two wanted to start. What was she doing up there?”

Erin didn’t glance at her. She glanced at me. “Cassie, this is Lena.” Cassie shook my hand, her fingers as limp as a male body part, eyes already searching for someone more exciting. “Lena is Desiree’s sister.”

Cassie turned back to me so fast you would have sworn she’d been slapped. “Oh, you poor thing.” I noticed she didn’t ask me what Desiree was doing up there. “You’re so brave to be out and about so soon. You know Desiree was one of my favorite people.”

To gossip about. I threw Erin a look. Even she rolled her eyes.

“Let me know if I can do anything to help,” Cassie said. I could see her mentally composing the text she’d send to her yoga group chat. How I was at a concert instead of mourning. How we were both the same, loving to party too much.

“You can tell me where Free is,” I said.

That stopped her. “Does this have to do with Desiree?”

“No, he’s a family friend.”

“Oh. Free Money. That’s right. He’s performing after one of the ASAPs so I doubt he’s here yet.”

“You know if he’s doing press?” Erin said.

“Doubt it. It’s not a coincidence his new artist is on the bill. It was the only way he’d agree to do the show. I’d try his dressing room.” She took out her card, handed it to me. “Please let me know about the funeral.”

With that she was off, leaving me glad she was gone.

“Okay, so we need to find the dressing rooms,” I said more to myself than Erin.

Luckily, an arrow pointed to dressing rooms to our right. I took off, power walking like I was in Rockefeller Center the day the Christmas tree went up. The only indication Erin was following was the people calling her name as we passed. The hall curved past a table chock-full of snacks before hitting a dead end that would have forced us to go right. And I would have, except for the guard.

He stood smack-dab at the wall, about ten feet from an open area. Now that I had a plan, I had no fear. No nerves. An All Access pass was good for any impending anxiety.

“Lena.” Erin was still behind me, but I ignored her. Too focused.

We’d run out of arrows, which meant this had to be Free’s dressing room. I was all ready to breeze past the guard when he put up his hand. “I’m sorry, ladies, but this area is restricted.”

I forced a smile and held up my pass. “We’re credentialed.”

“Lena.” Erin again. I still paid her no mind.

The guard was white and old, with more hair on his chin than the top of his head. He made no bones about glancing at my chest, for once not checking out my boobs. I raised my credential higher. “Doesn’t all access mean…all access?” I tried to hold my sarcasm in.

Security Santa smiled. “No, ma’am.”

He sounded like he’d never been so happy to say two words in his life. I wanted to yank him by his beard.

Erin stepped forward. “I tried to tell you. We need a sticker.”

She motioned to the wall at our left. Yet another poster. This one listing the types of credentials. There were at least ten in total, from “Working” to “Press” to “AAA.” Erin pointed at the one that kept sending me invites to join their motor club, then spoke to the guard. “That’s the God pass?”

He nodded.

She turned to me. “It’s the only one that’s truly all access.”

Shitnuts. “What are we gonna do?”

I was talking to Erin, but Security Santa spoke. “Not wait here.”

I really could do without the extra helping of attitude, even if I was the one who’d served it up first. My frustration was back full force.

Erin came to my rescue. Again. She gave Security Santa a smile that could melt margarine, which made sense since she was trying to butter him up. “We only need to get back there for a second. You can even come with us.”

He looked dead at me while answering her. “Can’t.” He’d obviously heard that one before, from cuter girls than us.

“Can you at least tell us if Free’s here?” I said, though I was sure he’d heard that one too.

“No.”

He didn’t bother to elaborate, and my pride refused to ask him to clarify. Instead, I gave him another smile. It was looking like the only chance I’d have to chat with Free would be if I jumped up onstage.

Erin and I retraced our steps. Me glowering. Her texting all the people she’d spoken to backstage, asking them to let us know when they saw him. We walked past a bathroom, and she stopped. “I gotta tinkle.”

She left me standing by the snack table, scratching the inside of my wrist like I’d just taken off a set of too-tight cuffs. Things were not going how I’d envisioned. Maybe it was God’s way of telling me this was not a good idea. I was about to go in to tell Erin we could leave when I saw the mass.