The slumber party started at four that afternoon. Tig had tried to call Kyra, but as predicted, she’d let the call go to voicemail, so Tig had called Uncle Nick. He sounded like a wreck, but he put Tig on hold while he asked Kyra about the sleepover. He’d clicked back over to Tig after only a minute or so and told her that Kyra didn’t feel up to coming to the party.
Since Kyra would be a no-show, the girls saw no harm in getting in their practice time.
Robbie was plugging in her amp when Olivia announced, “Paris’s here.” Robbie and Claire went to the door of the studio to greet her. Tig hung back and pretended to fiddle with the tension on her foot pedal.
“Check it out, ladies,” Paris said when she got inside the studio. She unzipped a black cloth case and revealed a black-and-white bass.
“It’s like an Oreo cookie,” said Robbie. “Suh-weet!”
“It’s not entirely black, though,” Paris said. She tilted the instrument back and forth so the light hit it in different ways.
“Aaah!” Robbie said. “It’s electric blue in the center of the black! I love it!”
“Yeah, me too,” said Paris. “I figured it would look really cool under stage lights when we play gigs.”
“Did you rent it from the music store?” Tig asked.
“No,” said Paris. “Bought it off eBay. Can you believe only ninety bucks for the bass, the amp cord, and the gig bag? And free shipping, too. Total score.”
“Oh,” said Tig. “So you bought it outright. I thought you were just playing bass for the one song.”
“I mean, well, I just thought, you know, since Kyra . . . I mean, I thought since we didn’t have a bass player . . .”
“It’s fine,” Tig said. “Just trying to stay up-to-date on what’s happening with the band. That’s all.”
“Ripley, it’s okay for Paris to play bass, isn’t it?” asked Robbie.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Tig replied.
“You tell me,” said Robbie.
There it was again . . . that tension that had never existed between Tig and Robbie before Paris had come along.
“I just said it’s fine,” said Tig. “Let’s practice.”
They ran through “It’s Only Rock ’n Roll” twice before stopping. It was markedly better than they’d ever played it before because they no longer had Kyra flubbing notes on the bass or the rhythm guitar.
“That was good,” Tig said. “Let’s do it once more.”
The third time was the best yet. The girls were so absorbed in their instruments that it took a few seconds before they noticed that Claire had stopped singing.
Then, one by one, each girl stopped playing, and their unexpected audience slowly began clapping.
“Bravo,” said Kyra. “Bravo.”