Free Absorbed by Emily Snow Page B

some new Italian restaurant that had ended up being shit—plus I spent half the lunch signing napkins and tits for a group of fans that had noticed me. “Really, Kylie? Right before the goddamn tour?”
    She presses her lips together into a thin white line. “Have you listened to a single word I’ve said, Lucas?” 
    I down the rest of my beer, which is lukewarm and flat. “I heard Wyatt, New Orleans, and sorry. Did I miss something?”
    “You’re being a dick.” She digs her fork into my spaghetti, eats it, and makes a face at the taste. “Okay, that is gross. Sorry, Lucas.” 
    I shrug. “I’m more worried about you and McCrae picking up and moving to Louisiana. Fuck the shitty food.” I signal our waitress and mouth a request for the check. “You sure you going to be okay, Ky?” 
    “I plan on keeping you in line even from New Orleans. I would never quit on you.”
    “But are you going to be okay?” I repeat.
    “I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think I’d be okay.” She grabs the bill the moment our waitress sets it on our table. “Don’t worry, I got this one.”
    Yeah, probably out of her business credit card. I watch her carefully as she digs in her wallet for a credit card, and I’m surprised when she uses cash. “So, why the move?”
    Sliding the money to the edge of the table, she lifts her shoulders. “New start. We’ve got so much baggage around here, and so much good history there, that it seems smart. And you’re only a few hours away by flight.” When I just stare at her, she heaves a sigh. “If you had Sienna back in your life right now—if you could have that new start—wouldn’t you pick up and leave?”
    Of course I would. “Without a fucking doubt.”
    A slow smile builds on my sister’s face. “So you understand where I’m coming from?” When I give her a little gesture that isn’t a negative or a positive, she adds, “You accept this, right? Because I feel like I need that from you before I start telling everyone else what I’ve done.”
    When Kylie talks like this, it puts me in a shitty place. She has to know that. I wait until after our waitress carries off the bill and cash to tell her, “I accept everything that makes you happy.”
    She sinks back into the booth. “Good. Like, incredibly good. Hell, Lucas, I was more afraid of dealing with you than I was of Dad.” 
    “You should be.”
    As we start to leave, she looks into her bag and hands me a folded up piece of paper. “Thought you’d be interested.”
    “I’m not upping your salary.”
    She laughs, backing away. “Just think about it. It’ll be good for you.”
    I don’t open the paper until I get back to my Jeep, and when I do I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. It’s a real estate listing for a cabin in the Tennessee mountains.  It’s so fucking typical of Kylie, and across the top of the sheet is a message written in her neat handwriting. 
    Since you lost the last one, thought you’d be interested in taking a look at this one before you win Sienna back. Don’t give me shit about the price, either. I Googled your celebrity net worth.
    I’m still shaking my head as I watch Kylie’s little compact drive past. Even though her window is up, I know exactly what she’s saying when she turns her head toward me.
    “Don’t let me down.”

    ***
    Over the course of the next month, I reshoot the “Ten Days” video with McBride two more times. I don’t actually watch the full run-through of the newest version until the day before it’s supposed to air when Kylie emails me the file. I watch it by myself in the living room of the cabin I let my sister talk me into buying. It’s nothing like any video I’ve ever done with the band, but for what I need to get across, it’s right. Stark and honest. Right. 
    A few minutes after the video ends, I get a text from Kylie wishing me good luck. Asking if I still plan on going through with going to Sienna tomorrow night. When I respond