The Duet(60)
The airport’s automatic doors swooshed open as another round of travelers dispersed in various directions. Some of them lined up for the taxis; some ran into the arms of loved ones. I was watching as one couple reunited— the man was clad in Army camo and the girl was crying. Big, heartfelt tears ran down her cheeks. I could have written a song about that exact moment. A soldier’s reunion with his loved ones was always a sight to behold.
“Hello! Earth to Brooklyn!” a voice snapped in front of me.
When I pulled my gaze away from the couple, I found my sister standing in front of me, looking like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. She had on white converse, skinny jeans, and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt that had a brand’s logo on it. Of course, I didn’t recognize it because at twenty-seven, I was already an old fart compared to her. She’d pulled her long dark brown hair up into a loose bun and her smile practically touched the corners of her light brown eyes.
“Cammie!” I squealed jumping forward to wrap my arms around her.
After spinning her in a circle nearly fifty times, she finally protested.
“Oh my God, I’m going to puke all over your cowboy boots!”
“NO!” I yelled, dropping her and stepping back. No one touches the red cowboy boots.
“I’m so excited!” she said, glancing around at the slices of Montana visible from the airport entrance. Two weeks without my sister was a lot harder than I’d thought it would be. Even though we talked on the phone and texted every day, I’d still missed her.
“Ladies, what do you have planned in Montana?” one of the paparazzi yelled.
Hank practically snarled at the man. Usually, whenever one of them spoke up, the rest followed suit, so Hank stepped forward and ushered Cammie and I to the town car waiting for us on the curb. Once the doors were closed and the tinted windows were rolled up, I sat back in the seat and just took Cammie in.
After our parents passed away, it would have been easy to slip into a parent role for Cammie, but I’d always tried to maintain our relationship as sisters. Seeing her in the car, looking as grown-up as ever (because well, she was) I had a “proud parent moment” even though I’d probably done nothing to contribute to her success.
Cammie was intelligent and driven. She’d always pushed herself to excel at anything she did and I admired that about her.
“Are you going to stare at me like that the entire drive over? Because if so, I’m pulling out my iPad and ignoring you,” she threatened with a small smile.
I shook my head and let out a deep breath, trying to push past the emotions roiling up inside of me. Cammie needed me to be normal, not a pile of blubbering craziness.
“What do you feel like doing when we get to Big Timber?” I asked, pulling out my cell phone. There were lots of emails and messages from industry people, but of course, nothing from Jason. I’d been with him the night before, when we’d “tested out” the patio furniture and attempted to be as quiet as possible. (It’d worked out quite terribly considering how painful wicker is on bare skin. Let’s just say wicker-imprints on your ass last longer than you’d think they would.) He hadn’t been awake when I’d left to get Cammie, and for all I knew he didn’t even remember she was coming to visit for the weekend.
“Hmm, do they have a sushi place? I’m craving some spicy tuna,” she answered.
I gave her a pointed stare. “You do realize how far away we are from the ocean, right?”
Cammie smiled. “Alright fine. I’ll just take a triple scoop of thick ‘n’ hearty Montana cowboy, please.”
Derek’s easy grin flashed in my mind and then I thought about the fact that Cammie and him were closer in age than he and I were. Greeeatttt.
“There actually is a guy who works for Jason. I don’t really know what all he does. I think he helps with the animals and stuff.”
“Huh,” Cammie smirked. “I guess Jason has been keeping you busy.”
My eyes widened in fear. I hadn’t told her about my true arrangement with Jason. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I’d just decided to keep the situation closer to my heart. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what was going on myself, or maybe it was because I didn’t care to hear her judgment. Either way, it’d been my little secret.
My silence spurred her to continue. “You know, with song writing and stuff,” she clarified, casting me a suspicious glance.
“Oh, yeah. That. We’ve been writing a lot. I think we’ll be done with our song in a few days.”
Cammie clapped. “That’s perfect! That means you can come home early. LA sucks without you. I’ve been hanging out with people in my studio and the only thing they ever want to talk about is architecture. If I have to hear one more debate on modernism versus classicism, I’ll stab someone with a Doric column.” She made a pretend barfing sound and I laughed.