“That’s not how it works.”
“But I know he still has feelings for you. If I just—”
“Mess with his emotions and walk away? That truly would be a cunt move. Not that I can’t see you doing it.”
Loudly, or angrily, it seemed, a telephone rang. The phone was on the wall in the kitchenette. Laura gave it an uninterested glance.
“I’m the one who’s going to split,” she said. “I should have done it years ago.” She stood up and added, “I’m sorry I hit you.”
She returned to her backpack, and the phone continued its angry ringing. Becky, who came from a family where ignoring a phone was unthinkable, jumped up and answered. She heard the sound of a crowd and Tanner shouting over it.
“Becky? What are you doing? I’ve been—Gig’s here—we have to play. What are you doing?”
“Just one second, okay?” She pressed the receiver to her chest and walked it toward Laura. “It’s Tanner,” she said. “They need to start. Will you come with me? Please?”
The fact that Laura, after a moment, made a petulant, hand-flinging gesture of assent—the fact that she would never have done this if she hadn’t hit Becky, which wouldn’t have happened if Becky hadn’t fallen to her knees to pray, which wouldn’t have happened if the spirit of Christ hadn’t brought her to Laura’s apartment, which wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t found God in the sanctuary, which wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t smoked marijuana—seemed to Becky, as she followed Laura down the snowy stairs behind the drugstore, the most beautiful proof of God’s mysterious workings. She’d done bad things, she’d accepted her punishment, and now she had her reward. She could feel a whole new life, a life in faith, beginning.
“This is so stupid,” Laura said as they strode along the sidewalk. “I hope you understand what this is costing me.”
The cold air stung Becky’s battered ear. She didn’t dare speak, lest Laura change her mind.
The crowd in the function hall was restive, the stage dimly bathed in purple light. Laura went straight to the door that led backstage while Becky hung back near the vestibule. Seeing the food tables, which were now fully denuded, she understood how considerably stoned she’d still been when she thought she was over being stoned. She was also reminded unpleasantly of Clem.
Gig Benedetti came ambling over to her, smiling. “We meet again.”
“Yeah, hi.”
“I can’t say I’m loving the level of organization here. By which I mean it’s rather low.”
“Laura wasn’t feeling well.”
Was there a commandment in the Bible against lying? Maybe not, but the truth would come out anyway. She wondered if, having performed one amazing deed, she might perform another.
“So, actually, though,” she said. “Actually, here’s the thing. Laura’s quitting the band.”
Gig laughed. “Seriously?”
“Um, yeah.”
“The act I came to hear included a female vocalist.”
“I know. But I’ve heard them play without her, and it’s actually better. Tanner really takes over when he doesn’t have to share the stage. It’s his band, not hers.”
“Is it possible you’re not the most objective critic?”
By instinct, her hand went to her hair and lifted it out from her coat collar. She gave it a luxuriant shake, nothing God could disapprove of. It wasn’t her fault if Gig thought she was a good-looking girl.
“If you really want to know,” she said, “I’m the reason Laura’s quitting. I’m going to feel very shitty if you don’t sign them because of me.” Likewise instinctual was the note of hurt in her voice. She shook her hair again. “I know it sounds like I’m asking you a favor, but Tanner’s the one with ambition. Laura’s just an amateur.”
Gig narrowed his eyes. “What’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why am I talking to you and not him?”
“I don’t know. Just—if you sign the band, you’ll be seeing a whole lot of me.”
To really flirt, she should have looked him in the eye, but she couldn’t do it.
“That’s a consideration,” he said.
After the blizzard came a starry-skied chill. The parsonage was dark, but the snow on the driveway was furrowed with new tracks. As Clem followed them toward the back door, he caught a whiff of tobacco smoke. He stopped and sniffed the air. He was out of cigarettes, having emptied his pack after his fight with his father. He’d intended to quit smoking in New Prospect, but that was before Becky told him to go to hell.