The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(38)
No one could argue that point, although Steffi wanted to. “I can’t take time off when we’re so busy and gaining traction. Too much on the line right now. In fact, I need to hire some indie contractors.”
“Do we have the funds to do that?” Claire’s doubt wrinkled her entire face.
“I can’t take on more jobs without help. The margin we lose on any single project will be made up in quantity. There’s no other way to grow.”
“Fine. You handle that, since you’re the one who’ll be working with whomever.” Claire rested her chin on her fist and studied Steffi. “If you’re not spacing out, then tell me why you’re so edgy . . . and dressed up.”
“It’s Saturday night,” Steffi protested, noting Claire’s gray miniskirt and pink ruffled top. “I’ve been in coveralls and work boots for weeks. Can’t I look pretty once in a while?”
“Sure, but why here?” Claire glanced around the worn floors and chipped furniture of the shabby old bar, with its stale beer odor and random strings of white lights hung on rusty nail heads for “ambiance.” Most of the men there wore camo shorts or faded denim, like her brother. “You don’t usually like girlie clothes, and this isn’t exactly a hotbed of fashion and culture.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t raise the standards.” Steffi shrugged, giving a vaguely honest reply. “We might fail, but at least we look good while trying.”
That had always been Peyton’s motto. She’d rarely left the house looking less than perfect—which was hardly difficult for the Barbie doll look-alike. That was the past, though. Now Peyton sat alone in a stark apartment in the city, puking, sleeping, or crying—or all of the above. She probably didn’t give two figs now about Theory’s newest dress or the best hair glaze.
Steffi looked at the empty chairs at their table. Misery stirred, swaddling her in a thick fog of melancholy. Even if she could reunite the old gang, it wouldn’t turn back time to give both Peyton and her their much-needed do-overs. Had she never seen Ryan again, she supposed she could’ve lived out her life knowing he hated her. Now she craved absolution, like an addict reintroduced to her favorite drug. In this way, she understood Peyton’s need to make peace with Claire.
Claire hadn’t asked Steffi about her visit last Sunday. As pigheaded today as she’d been at twelve, when she refused to listen to Peyton’s advice about removing a fake tattoo from her cheek with baby oil and ended up losing a couple of layers of skin trying to rub it off with a washcloth. Hopefully, she wouldn’t live to regret her current obstinacy, too.
Steffi glanced at the stage, remembering better days. “Remember how Peyton used to jump onstage with the bands sometimes and play the tambourine?”
“Of course.” Claire’s lids lowered to half-mast. “She always loved stealing everyone’s attention, didn’t she?”
Steffi clenched her hands into fists. “She’ll be queen of the chemo ward in no time, huh?”
Claire’s gaze dropped to her lap. They sat in uncomfortable silence in the aftermath of the stark reminder.
Benny returned with a foamy pitcher of golden ale, blessedly oblivious to the downshift in mood. “Anyone up for darts or something? I’m getting a little antsy.” He smiled while refilling their plastic cups just as the band took the stage again.
The opening bass line of the Beatles “Come Together” began when, from the corner of her eye, Steffi noticed a familiar silhouette come through the front door. Everything that had been on her mind flew out that door as her thoughts scattered and hope shimmered like pixie dust around one man.
She straightened in her chair, heart thumping, unsure whether or not to wave Ryan over. Doing so would set off another round of laughter from Claire and Benny. Acting surprised might temporarily spare her their relentless teasing, but playing coy wouldn’t win her points with Ryan. Plus, he’d likely bust her for inviting him. The only reason she hadn’t already told her brother and Claire about that was to avoid humiliation if Ryan had no-showed.
Her hand shot into the air, waving wildly. Claire’s gaze followed Steffi’s, then widened. “Ryan?”
“Mm-hmm.” Steffi pasted a smile on her face, telling herself that Ryan’s joining them wasn’t that remarkable. “Emmy’s with Val this weekend, so I invited him to join us tonight. I thought he needed to get out of his mom’s house and socialize a bit. I figured Benny would appreciate another guy in the mix, too.”
“Ha! Don’t even try to pretend you did this for me.” Her brother made that goofy face he often made when he busted her chops. He glanced at Claire. “Did you bring bulletproof vests or anything?”
She snickered. “Nope. I had no idea he might come.”
Benny stood when Ryan reached the table and then slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Glad you came. Let me grab you a glass.”
“Thanks.” Ryan watched her brother leave, standing stiffly. He scratched his jaw, then directed his attention to Claire. He leaned down to kiss her cheek before taking the open seat between her and Benny rather than the empty one beside Steffi. “It’s been a long time, Claire. You look exactly the same. How are you?”
“Still a flatterer, I see. I’m well, thanks.” Claire smiled for the first time in the past twenty minutes and bumped shoulders with him. “You look great, Ryan. Fatherhood agrees with you.”