Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lupe adjusts the microphone on the small stage and taps it to make sure it’s on. It’s seven thirty on the dot, but Dorothy’s Hideaway is not as busy as usual. Wednesday nights usually fill the bar with musicians ready to participate in the open mic, but tonight there’s only six dedicated regulars signed up on the list. However, with the rain pouring outside, she can’t be disappointed.

“Hi there, everyone,” she starts. The chatter quiets, but it doesn’t dissipate entirely. She pauses a moment before she continues with a small clear of her throat.

“For those of you who don’t know, my name is Lupe and I am the owner of this fine establishment.” She stops for a short applause. “Usually our open mics are hosted by our lovely events coordinator, Ana but she’s away for six weeks touring with her band, so I hope I’ll suffice.” Another applause. 

“I think tonight is mostly familiar faces but just in case anyone doesn’t know, we are plug and play only, we are an inclusive show for all skill levels, and originals are encouraged but covers are welcome as well. If your guitar doesn’t have a pickup, I do have a guitar here for anyone to borrow, but if you prefer to use your own, we can try to set the second microphone up, just please let me know before your set starts.

“Since we have a bit of a smaller turn out tonight, we have time for slightly longer sets than usual. So if you have a few extra songs prepared, feel free to play them. Usually we give musicians ten minutes each, but I think we could double that and still have lots of time afterwards. 

“Usually when Ana hosts, she likes to warm up the crowd with a song of her own, and she asked that I continue that part of hosting responsibilities, so if you don’t mind, I’d love to start us off. I don’t perform much anymore, but uh, I used to be in a band and had my fair share of concerts here when I was younger. So, if you don’t mind, I'd love to play one that I wrote for them that never got recorded.” 

Another applause. Lupe smiles and she slings her guitar over her shoulder. The weight is familiar in her hands, the strings freshly changed after having picked it up from the music shop down the street just a few hours before. She takes a deep breath and starts to pick out a simple pattern. 

Lupe still writes music, but the last time she performed a proper concert was almost ten years ago. Occasionally she participates in the open mic nights here, but that was more when she was just an employee. Now that she runs the place, it feels a little… too self indulgent. 

Still, she’s proud of her work. She’s not shy about it, nor does she deny the fact that she’s talented. When it comes time to start singing, she melts into the sensation. The melody flows out like it’s second nature and her fingers continue to dance over the intricate chords on the guitar. Her gaze stays out, just above the crowd, a small smile on her face despite the more angsty lyrics. The kind only an eighteen year old could write. When she plays parts of the interludes, she looks down out of habit. Gone are the days where she needs to look down at her pedals, but old habits die screaming, she supposes. 

She finishes the song five minutes later, after playing the solo before the bridge twice in a row to drag out the song a bit more. On a good night, the open mic keeps Dorothy’s busy until eleven, sometimes having to turn people away from signing up for time, but she thinks they’ll be quiet by nine. 

Lupe gives a small nod of acknowledgement to the applause before she unplugs and sets her guitar on its stand. Another one of Ana’s requests: bring an extra guitar to the open mics just in case . She thinks of everything, and Lupe is happy to follow her checklists. 

“Thank you. Alright, now let’s start with the real talent, shall we?” Lupe says. She smiles and looks down at her list, and introduces the first act, Sara Willows. As the audience applauds, she helps the familiar young girl set up, but Sara’s been a weekly regular for the last three months and knows what she’s doing. She’s got a glittery pink guitar,writes in the style of old school, country Taylor Swift and always introduces herself with the same script, but never played the same original song more than three times. 

Lupe hovers by the stage as Sara begins to play her first song that she introduces as one she finished this morning, but has yet to name. Once she gets to the chorus, Lupe retreats to the bar. She sets the clipboard down, and turns her back to pour herself a seltzer water as her bartender, Max, pours a beer for someone. 

“So when did Vi retire?” a voice asks from behind her. Lupe is used to this question. Dorothy’s Hideaway has been around for almost thirty years, and with that has come a lot of dedicated regulars, but not everyone has gotten the memo yet. Her usual answer falls out of her mouth without a second thought.

“I started taking over about two years ago, but Vi’s still active in the business. She comes in pretty often,” Lupe says. She squirts lime juice into her glass and pushes a straw into it. 

“I never took you for the business type,” the voice says. Lupe furrows her eyebrows and whips around to argue, but before any words come out she locks eyes with Jess McCready and goes still. 

They look tired. That’s the first thing she notices. Tired and wet. Then she takes a deeper look and sees that Jess looks the exact same as they did the last time she saw them in person ten years ago. 

Of course, Lupe knows that. She doesn’t stalk Peach Fizz, but it’s hard not to see them in news articles, at record stores, or on her social media feed. She catches small glimpses of the band. Interview snippets or photoshoots, the occasional fan page being pushed in her algorithm. An announcement for another tour or an award nomination. They’re not in escapable, but they always find a way to show up in Lupe’s life; a glimpse into a life that could have been hers. 

“What are you doing here?” she finds herself saying, and everything else gets stuck in her throat. She quickly snaps herself out of it. 

“Sorry, that was rude. Hi,” she corrects herself. Jess cracks a small smile. 

“Hi,” they repeat. 

“I uh, I didn’t know you were in town. Thought you guys were touring?” Lupe asks, trying to sound casual about it. 

“Finished in LA last weekend… Did you uh-” 

Applause ripples out through the bar, and Lupe joins in. Sara thanks the audience and launches right into her next song. Lupe knows this one, she played it last week but the first verse has been rewritten. 

“Sorry, what?” Lupe brings her attention back to Jess, who just shakes their head. 

“I didn’t know you still worked here, little lone bought the place,” Jess says. “That’s… exciting.” 

“Technically I won’t fully own the business for another six years, but it’s just easier to say I’m the owner than to explain that I make all the business decisions but I haven’t officially bought the place yet. It’s not quite selling out SoFi but it’s something special,” Lupe says. “Congratulations on that, by the way.” 

“Thanks, but I hardly had an influence in that,” Jess says. 

“You’re part of the band, you write the songs,” Lupe says. 

“Uh, not the last album,” Jess says. “It’s mostly been Greta and her team doing the writing nowadays. I do some but… I mean, I wasn’t responsible for any of the hits on With Feeling .” 

“Oh.” Aside from the occasional radio play, Lupe doesn’t listen to their music. She tried, once, when their first album came out, but she got two songs in that she wrote, and had to turn it off. She hasn’t tried to listen to any of it since, and curiosity never got her to look at the writing credits either. 

“Yeah,” Jess says. “We’re all talking a few months off before starting the next album.” 

“You still in LA then?” Lupe asks. She crosses her arms over her chest casually, Jess leans against the bar. 

“Slightly nicer neighbourhood, but yeah,” Jess says. “You?”

“Same.” 

The air is heavy between the two; a decade worth of words left unsaid between them. Lupe thinks about the last time they saw each other, after Lupe left the band officially and went to get her things from Jess’ apartment. She remembers the way Jess tried to get her to change her mind, and how she shot them down. She remembers the fighting that led up to that, the arguments fueled by missing information and a struggle to communicate. Ten years worth of silence, with an apology long overdue, but the bar is not the place to do that. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Lupe offers after a beat. Jess gives a small nod. 

“What are you having?” 

“Water and lime,” Lupe laughs. “Not very exciting.” Jess scrunches up their nose. 

“Yeah no, but you can make me a Shirley Temple,” Jess says. “The Canadian way.” 

“No alcohol?” Lupe asks. Jess shakes their head. 

“Booze and I aren’t seeing each other at the moment… We’re on a bit of a break,” Jess jokes. Lupe presses her lips into an awkward smile.

Lupe makes the drink and sets it down in front of them. Jess takes out their wallet, and for a moment Lupe doesn’t know if she should charge them or not. Ultimately, she decides not to say anything, and takes the ten dollar bill. She gives them their change, which goes right into the tip jar. 

Sara finishes her second song and her gaze searches for Lupe. She gives Sara the signal to keep going, and a huge smile breaks out on the girls’ face before she talks to the audience, strumming idly as she picks another song to do. 

“You don’t play anymore, huh?” Jess asks. 

“Hmm?” Lupe pulls her attention away from the stage. 

“When you were introducing the open mic, you said you don’t play anymore,” Jess says. 

“That’s not what I said. I said I don’t perform . I still write and play, but I don’t perform,” Lupe says. “Too busy, and it feels weird to join in on the open mic nights when I own the place, especially because people know to come here to discover talent.” 

“You are talent,” Jess says. Lupe shrugs. 

“Oh, I am, but getting discovered isn’t what I want anymore,” she says. 

Another beat. Jess turns to look at the stage. 

“You sang Bruised ,” Jess says. 

“It’s one of the only ones I can do without it sounding like a cover,” Lupe says. 

“It was always one of my favourites,” Jess says. “I remember when you sang it to me for the first time. We were drunk, just got home from a house party at… Well. I guess that part doesn’t matter.” They force a small laugh. Lupe nods. 

“I remember that. That was before we found Maybelle,” Lupe says. Jess nods and watches Sara for a few minutes. Lupe does the same, moving out of the way to let Max work. There’s the unspoken part there that continues to hang heavy between the two. Lupe isn’t stupid. She’s not forgetful. She knows what’s going unsaid. Jess does too. 

“Listen, Lu-”

“Sorry, one second,” she says. Lupe walks past Jess and makes her way back to the stage as Sara finishes her fourth song. On the way there, she lets the next performer know he’s next, and then finds the third one to let her know she’s on deck. Then, she waits until the applause starts to walk up and stand in front of the host mic. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” Lupe asks. She scans the crowd for a moment, but ultimately her gaze settles on Jess, who’s staring right back at her as if she’s going to disappear the second their gaze tears away. “Sara’s been coming here for close to three months, and I have to say, her music just gets better every time.” 

Sara clears out and the next performer comes on. Lupe’s seen him here before, but she can’t remember anything about his music, so she introduces him by name and lets him do the rest. She does the same thing, waiting to make sure everything is connected properly before she returns to the bar where Jess is still sitting. 

“So what brought you here?” Lupe asks. 

“Something just told me to stop in here for old times sake,” Jess says. “I’m glad I did though. I was hoping to see Vi, but your singing is a pretty close second.” 

“She’s usually here during the day, if you want to try and run into her.” Lupe avoids addressing the compliment.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jess says. “What about you?”

“I’m usually here during the day too,” she says. “But if someone calls out and I can’t get someone to come in, usually I cover. I’m fulfilling my events coordinator’s role a bit right now… My schedule is a little all over the place. I try not to take too late of shifts.”

“What? Not a night owl?” Jess asks. 

“Not in the way I was at nineteen,” Lupe says. She’s still a night owl, but she’s mostly a functioning member of society now, which means she gets up at a decent time and actually makes it to her commitments, unlike the version of her that Jess knows. 

“Oh come on, twenty nine isn’t that different,” Jess says. Lupe raises an eyebrow. 

“My knees crack, I’ve already started going grey and if I have a beer after dinner it puts me to sleep,” Lupe says. Her tone is light, but she crosses her arms over her chest again in her default stance. Jess straightens up a bit in their seat. 

“Seriously?” Jess asks. Lupe nods. 

“If I could I’d show you,” she says. Jess hesitates. 

“I can see the hair, actually,” Jess finally says. They lean forward against the counter. Lupe watches as their gaze traces over her face. They never make eye contact, but Lupe’s gaze doesn’t move from their eyes. 

“I like it,” they remark. “It suits you. The silver, the length. It’s good.” 

The silver hairs pepper around Lupe’s head, with a concentration of them framing her face. She’s never tried to dye it, content with the reality of going grey young. Even if it was likely more stress than genetics. 

It’s different being aware of it versus having someone stare you down. Especially someone like Jess, who’s version of Lupe no longer exists. Losing Jess was the start of a new chapter, and yet here they are, sitting in front of her and she can feel herself turning back the pages. 

The only difference is now she’s not afraid to admit what she wants. 

Then again, she doesn’t know what she wants. 

It continues this way for the next few performers. Lupe excuses herself when the performer is wrapping up, introduces the next one and then returns to their idle conversation. Neither of them say anything of substance. There’s no deep questions, no sense of catching up. There’s a lot of history that hangs over their heads, but there’s a mutual understanding that here and now is not the place to try and discuss it. 

So Jess asks what the process was like in taking over Dorothy's, and Lupe asks about their latest tour (Jess ends up talking more about the venues and the opening act, a younger pop princess that Lupe doesn’t recognize the name of, than they do Peach Fizz). Jess talks about her family in Moose Jaw and how everyone is still doing well, Lupe admits that she’s been no contact with her parents for eight years now. 

“Seriously?” Jess asks. Lupe gives a small nod. “Shit, man, I thought you’d never do it.” 

“Got to the point where it was the only option.” 

The weight of the unsaid gets heavier. 

Lupe makes Jess another “Canadian Shirley Temple” and then excuses herself for the fourth time to get back up on the stage. The bar hasn’t gotten busier, but most of the people have stuck around, which is nice considering they’re still on track to finish by nine thirty like she expected. 

“Let’s give it up one more time for Delany, yeah?” she starts. “This is usually the part where I repeat all the open mic information, but I think there hasn’t really been any newcomers. I will say this is your last chance to sign up if you haven’t already. We’ve got lots of time, so just come see me at the bar. If you’re here with your friends and are a little nervous, tonight is a great chance to play. We’ve got such a warm, supportive group of artists and friends here tonight. You never know who’s in the audience, or when you're going to have your big break, so... Help keep the music going a little longer, if you like.” 

Lupe glances over at Jess, and there’s two girls talking to them at the bar. Jess is sitting a little straighter, a small, awkward smile on their face. One of the girls pulls out her phone, and they all squish in for a photo. 

Lupe looks down at her clipboard. 

She introduces the next musician, and lingers by the stage a bit longer as he starts to play. The sound is fine, everything is working, but the two girls are still talking to Jess, so she won’t intrude. Her arms are crossed comfortably over her chest as she watches, and finds herself swaying to his music. Sometimes the open mics can bring in a variety of skill levels ( not everything can be pleasing to the ear) but tonight has been good. 

After his second song, Lupe asks him if he wants to do a few more and he’s hesitant, but agrees. This is when Lupe returns to the bar. 

Jess looks like they’re going to say something, but Lupe beats them to it. 

“Hey, so, since you’re still here… What are the chances you’d go up after the last performer?” Lupe asks. For a split second, disappointment flashes across their face before it softens. 

“Like, me and a guitar?” Jess asks. 

“Well that’s usually what open mics are, yeah,” Lupe says. “I know it’s kind of putting you on the spot but… It would be really cool to put on our socials.” 

Jess looks at the stage, and then back to Lupe. Something in their face shifts.

“I don’t have a guitar with me,” they say. 

“You can borrow mine, it’s up there,” she says. “Just do a couple. Please? Your uh, your fans over there would probably love it.” She nods towards where the two girls have sat down, still watching Jess from across the room. 

Jess sighs heavily. 

“You gonna be my singer?” Jess asks. 

“I’d crash and burn,” Lupe dismisses. “Please?” 

Jess hesitates. 

They look over at the two girls again. 

“I uh, I actually think this might be my cue to take off,” Jess says. “Sorry, I just- I was actually expected somewhere half an hour ago.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, sorry. This- it was nice catching up with you, and everything. Thank you.” 

They count out a couple bills, and when Lupe tries to tell them to not pay, Jess stuffs it into the tip jar instead. 

“I’ll try and stop by to see Vi soon.” 

“I’ll let her know to expect you,” Lupe says. 

The weight of everything left unsaid crushes her even further as she watches Jess leave. 

It’s not until she’s introducing the last act of the night that Lupe realizes she didn’t get Jess’s number. 

She’s packing up her guitar at the end of the night when she decides that’s probably for the best. 

It’s almost eleven thirty when Lupe unlocks the front door to her townhouse. She quietly discards her keys, and sets her guitar down in the entryway before she follows the sound of the television to the living room. 

Esti is sitting on her couch, her homework in her lap with a sitcom on in the background with the only other light source coming from the warm lamp beside her. 

“Hey Esti, I’m sorry I’m late,” Lupe says. Esti looks up with a tired smile. 

“It’s alright, Alma fell asleep hours ago,” she replies. “It’s good, your television. You have many more channels than we do.” 

Lupe laughs softly. 

“Yeah, well, It’s late and a school night, so we should get you home,” Lupe says. Usually, if she comes home while Esti is watching something, she lets her finish it, but Esti is ready to fall asleep. 

“Will you record the next episode for me?” Esti asks. Lupe nods. 

“Sure, I’ll record them all, if you want me to,” she says. Esti’s eyes light up. 

Esti packs her things while Lupe counts out sixty dollars in cash. She gives it to her, and she stashes it away in her backpack. Esti is seventeen, and she and her mother live three doors down. They were here before Lupe and Alma moved in two years ago, and she’s been Lupe’s babysitter ever since. Lupe pays as well as she can, and helps her with homework sometimes. In a way, Esti and Alma see each other as sisters, and the connection warms her and Alma’s (Esti’s mother, Alma, which is a funny coincidence, but confusing for all of them) hearts. 

They’ve exchanged keys for each other’s front doors, and share holidays together. Neither of them have much family outside of the mother/daughter dynamic, so they take comfort in each other instead. 

It’s not something Lupe expected to happen when she bought this place, but it’s her favourite thing to come from it. 

Lupe walks Esti home. Even though she’s just down the street, it’s late and still raining. It’ll help her rest a bit easier. 

“Have a good night, Esti,” Lupe says. Esti gives her a tight hug before she runs up the sidewalk to her own front door. 

Lupe waits until the door shuts completely to walk back to her own home. She sits down on her sheltered porch and lights a cigarette. It’s a nasty habit that she’s tried to kick a thousand times, but it never stays away completely. She never smokes around Alma or Esti, and she maybe only gets one or two in a day, but after tonight's surprise reunion, she feels like she deserves it. 

She closes her eyes and listens to the rain on the cement, pounding in rhythmic waves over and over again. She hasn’t heard thunder since she left Dorothy’s. 

Lupe takes one last drag and then puts it out in her ashtray. There’s a moment where she debates lighting a second one, but decides against it. One is enough. 

She slips back inside and takes off her shoes, placing them in the coat closet before she shrugs off her jacket. She moves her guitar from the porch to her office, leaving it on the floor for now. On the wall, she has four hooks for her favourite instruments; a black telecaster covered in worn, peeling stickers, a Gretsch resonator guitar and a mandolin hang on three of them, the fourth is where her Hummingbird goes. She doesn’t hang it up again yet, she can do that tomorrow. 

“Mama?”

Lupe jumps. She turns around, hand over her heart and takes a breath. 

“Hey you, I thought Esti said you were asleep,” she says. 

Alma stands in the doorway of the office in her pjs, her hair in two braids that had Esti’s handcraft written all over them. 

“I was, and then I woke up when you came home,” she says. “I missed you.” 

Lupe smiles softly. 

“I missed you too, Lobito, but let’s get to bed, okay? If you tuck yourself back in, I’ll come read to you once I get my pajamas on, okay?” Lupe offers. Alma smiles and gives her a hug before she runs up the stairs. 

Lupe follows. She changes out of her damp clothes into pajamas and goes across the hall to Alma’s room. She settles in comfortably beside her daughter and picks up the Percy Jackson book that she’s been working through. They’re on the third one now, but she must’ve read some on her own because when Lupe starts reading it, she’s missing something in the plot. 

She’s a little disappointed, if she’s being honest, because she’s getting invested in the plot too, and now she’s missed three chapters. She reads from where the bookmark is though, and Alma curls up right beside her. She drifts off to sleep quickly, and when she is, Lupe just sits there for a while, rubbing small circles on her daughter's shoulder as she turns back a few chapters to read what she missed. 

The weight on her chest eases a little bit. All of the conversations she wanted to have with Jess and never did flood back. A never ending list of how she would’ve navigated things differently if she had the chance to go back in time. She wouldn’t change the outcome- quitting the band and having her daughter-for anything in the world, but she wonders if she and Jess could’ve been different. 

She wonders, but she doesn’t dwell. None of that is her business anymore.

Chapter Text

Peach Fizz has ten minutes before they’re set to go on stage and Lupe is throwing up in the bathroom. 

She locked herself in there fifteen minutes ago, and inside a green room the size of a broom closet, everyone is being subjected to the painful retching sounds. Maybelle and Greta are touching up each other’s make up while Jo’s off to try and find something plain for Lupe to eat once she comes out. She insists she’s fine through the door repeatedly, but every time it sounds like she’s done, she’s dry heaving again. 

Jess sits right beside the door, their head against the doorframe with a joint between their fingers. They want to be on the other side helping, but this is the third time this has happened in the last month, and Lupe’s gotten more and more closed off each time. 

“Do you think she’s doing it on purpose?” Maybelle whispers. Greta shrugs, Jess shakes their head. 

“She’d talk to me if she was,” Jess dismisses with an air of confidence. Lupe tells them everything. 

The toilet flushes and a few seconds later, Lupe emerges. The colour is drained from her face, and her hair has been tied back in a haphazard bun. She walks over to the snack table and grabs a bottle of water, avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

“Are you going to be okay to perform?” Maybelle asks. “Cause honey, if you can’t, we can figure something out.” 

“No! No, I’ll be fine. I think it’s just nerves,” Lupe says. She cracks open the water bottle and takes a careful sip from it. Maybelle looks at her with a soft expression, Greta pauses what she’s doing too. Jess doesn’t, because they know how much Lupe hates having people pity her. 

“Do you want a hit?” Jess offers their blunt, which Lupe shakes her head to again. 

“I think I’m going to just go get some air. How long do we have?” she asks. 

“Seven minutes,” Maybelle says. “Are you sure -”

“Yes! Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Lupe says. “Promise.” 

Lupe grabs her jacket and disappears out of the green room. When the door swings shut, Maybelle is the first to speak up. 

“I really don’t think she should be going out there in that state. She looked just about ready to fall over!” Maybelle says. Maybelle is older than the rest of them by four years, and while she resents the idea of being considered the mom of the group, she’s always been the most caring. She’s Peach Fizz’s drummer, the last to join the group after months of searching for the right fit. 

Jess absently stretches and works their left hand while the right puts out their joint. They’re the lead guitarist, Lupe is the rhythm. Greta sings, Jo plays the bass. 

Once upon a time Peach Fizz was just  Jess and Lupe; roommates by chance in an awful apartment situation quickly evolved into writing songs and doing open mic nights together, which expanded into a small band over the course of a year. Jess likes performing in a band, but the creation is  always the most important part to them. 

That, and their best friend, who is currently trying to recover in the alley. 

Jess knows better than to go after her. Lupe doesn’t like to be doted on whenever some misfortune falls on her. It’s probably true that she’s stressed about tonight's performance. It’s all she’s been talking about for the last month- how important it is going to be for them to nail this show, because the audience could be full of people they need to impress. Then again, Lupe says this about every show that has a bit more reputation than they’re used to. 

Jess doesn’t think it’s that serious. They’re just opening for another local pop punk band, but it’s the biggest show they’ve ever played, and if it’s important to Lupe, it’s important to Jess. 

There’s a knock on the door with a five minute warning. Maybelle touches up her lips one last time in the mirror and Greta gets up off the grimy couch. Jo returns empty handed, and the four of them make their way backstage. 

“Should someone go get Lupe?” Jo asks. Jess shakes their head. 

“No need.” 

Because at that very moment, Lupe comes down the hallway, jacket discarded and an extra water bottle in her hand. She smiles at Jess when she gets close, and then grabs her guitar out of its case. Lupe’s black Vintara Telecaster has a handful of stickers slapped across the front, very carefully laid out in a way that they won’t get rubbed away by her arm as she plays. They’re also laid out in a way that it’ll be easy to overlap them over time. They don’t know where Lupe gets them all, but there’s one that’s been torn off. Now that they think of it, they can’t remember what it was before, but the sticker’s residue can still be seen on the mat finish. There’s one on the pick guard that Jess gave her the first time they played together, proudly displayed without any other stickers around it. It’s nothing special, a glass bottle of fizzing peach juice. Jess doesn’t remember where they got it, but it’s the sticker that gave them their name. 

Jess grabs Lupe’s hand and brings it up to give the back of it a kiss, then they squeeze it for reassurance. Lupe squeezes their hand back, and then Maybelle enters the stage to start drumming, which gives the rest of them something to come out to. Jess goes out next, and then Jo and Lupe, and Greta last. 

The first two songs go by without a hitch. Break Out flows perfectly into Mother’s Daughter and then Greta addresses the audience over a vamp laid out by Lupe. 

Jess looks over at her while Greta talks, but Lupe is staring down at the pedals by her mic stand. She falls into such an easy rhythm, bouncing to the beat. If Jess didn’t know she had been sick just half an hour before, they wouldn’t be able to tell at all. 

She’s quiet though. Usually Lupe talks with Greta in between songs, bantering back and forth or chiming in to talk about a song since she writes most of them. Not tonight though. She laughs at a joke, she makes one small quip, but otherwise she’s focused on her guitar. 

During the fourth song, Jess dances their way over to the other side of the small, cramped stage and stands with Lupe. They almost topple over Jo, but the two clumsily navigate it as best they can. They don’t want to stress her out with more questions, especially not during the middle of the show, but she’s performing almost too well. 

She smiles at Jess as they play the motif riff over and over again, lining up her hips with theirs to match the way they move to the beat. She winks as Jess returns to their microphone, and even though they almost missed it through her long, loose hair, it’s all the reassurance they need that she’s going to be okay. 

The audience is great. They’re responsive and cheering and Jess can feel their energy radiating onto the stage. Greta comments on it too, thanking the audience for being so great for them. It really feels like they’re here for them , for Peach Fizz, and not the band that they’re opening for. 

The last song plays and Lupe pours her heart into it. It’s almost hard for them to focus on the intricate guitar solo that leads the way into the bridge. Bruised means a lot to Lupe, though she’s never really explained any of the meaning to the band or to the audience. She doesn’t need to, it shows through the way she plays, even if on stage she’s just doing the backing vocals. 

Lyrically it's a misconjointed mess, with overly poetic symbolism that acts as a warning that the protagonist has been battered and bruised, and she doesn’t offer up vulnerability because of it, but she wants to try for the muse. At least, that’s what Jess thinks they’ve gotten out of it. They’ve never sat down to look at the lyrics. 

Jess likes it better when Lupe sings it, and does it in a more quiet rendition. The band decided to up the energy for the song, and it sounds good but every time they rehearse it, they just think about the first time Lupe showed it to them. The first real time she showed Jess her original music, drunk and blushing as the two sat curled up on her bed in their awful apartment. 

“Thank you again!” Greta says over the final vamps of guitar. “We’ll all be at the back merch table, we would love to see you there! We’ve got some shitty demos and some hand printed shirts, maybe some stickers left. I know you’re here to support Love Bomb but don’t be afraid to come bomb us with some love!” 

They file off together. Jo grabs Maybelle in a sweaty hug, Greta chugs a bottle of water. Lupe manages to slink past them to put her guitar away, latching the case. 

“Trying to sneak off without celebrating?” Jess asks. Lupe looks up at them with a soft smile. 

“Just tired,” Lupe says. She grabs her phone off of the table and flips it open. A frown etches itself into her face. 

“Do you want to go home?” they ask. “How are you feeling? With the nausea,” Jess asks. Lupe drops her gaze and picks up her guitar case. Something shifts. 

“I’ll be okay, just need to sit down for a minute,” Lupe says. “Promise.” 

“Okay well, if you need to go, let me know,” Jess says. They drove here together, they’re going to leave together. Lupe’s apartment isn’t really on the way for Jess, but carpooling is just what they do and they don’t mind the detour. Jess doesn’t like all the socializing with fans anyways. They’re grateful, of course, but there’s a reason why Greta and Lupe usually take charge in the talking on stage and after the shows. 

Someone on staff comes up to congratulate the two, and after abandoning their equipment, Maybelle, Greta and Jo head right out to the floor to manage the merch booth. Lupe retreats to the greenroom, and after a moment Jess decides to follow Lupe. 

They can hear Lupe talking before they get to the door. Lupe’s left it open, having abandoned her short button down on the couch, leaving her in her sweat soaked muscle tank. She’s pacing, her phone up to her ear. Jess debates if they should say something or not, but Lupe brings her phone down and punches something into the keyboard and then flips it off. She looks up, and their eyes lock. 

Instead of her cursing Jess out like she’d usually do, Lupe just sighs and sits down on the couch. 

“Who was that?” Jess asks. 

“Voicemail,” Lupe says. She drops her gaze and wipes harshly at her face with the back of her hand. 

“Your mother?” 

Lupe nods, and she chokes on her breath, before taking a deep breath. Jess puts their arm around her and pulls her close; Lupe collapses into them. 

“What was it this time?” they ask. Lupe breathes. 

“She’s just being a bitch. We’ve fought nearly- fuck- nearly every night this week,” she says. She wipes at her face again, Jess reaches over and grabs a tissue. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“She just- she just really sucks right now. I guess uh- she keeps getting on my case about not going to school and finding a man and I keep telling her no and I uh…” She pauses, sits up a bit straighter, and then collapses again after a moment of thought. “She set me up with- she tried to set me up with a… a cousin's coworker's son who’s here in LA and she set up the date for tonight and I told her, y’know, no, I have a show and that’s more important and she’s just. Angry about it.”

“I don’t get it. She’s in Texas , how the fuck is she doing that?” Jess asks. “She can’t keep her nose in her own state?”

Lupe’s quiet again. She stutters and starts sentences before she deflates a bit more. 

“She has her ways,” Lupe ends up saying. 

“I hate her and I’ve never met her,” Jess says. “I don’t get why you don’t block her.” 

“It’s not easy ,” Lupe says. “She’s still my mom and I… I want her to be proud of me but…” 

“My dad’s proud of you,” Jess says. “He’s asked about you every time he calls since Easter.” 

That makes Lupe smile. 

“Your family is great,” she says. “Next holiday we should try and get some fans in Saskatchewan.” 

“In Moose Jaw? Good luck,” they laugh. 

“I betcha the farmers would love our demo CDs,” Lupe says. “Your younger brother loved it when we played it after dinner.” 

“Yeah and my Grandma had to leave the room.” Jess laughs. “Maybe if we re-record some of them as country songs…”

“Oh. Fuck that, no way,” Lupe laughs. “Guess we just won’t have a Canadian audience.” 

Jess laughs. “We just got to pick a different city is all.” 

“Regina? That’s close.” 

“Somewhere not rural ,” Jess says. 

“Your entire fucking country is rural!” 

“Not true, we have some coastal and mountain cities.” 

Lupe calmed herself down now, smiling big at Jess even if her eyes are still dull. Jess knew they couldn’t fix whatever it was that Lupe was feeling in one conversation, but they helped, and that was what mattered. 

After another minute, Lupe puts her shirt back on (but leaves it unbuttoned) and the two of them make their way out to the floor, wishing Love Bomb a good show as they pass the actual green room that they’ve been getting ready in. 

They push through the crowd and join the other three at the booth, Lupe taking her usual place right beside Greta. Jess nudges Maybelle, who nudges them back and she lets them know that they’ve sold a handful of CDs and one shirt. 

“What took you two so long to get out anyhow?” Maybelle teases. Jess rolls their eyes. 

“Nothing like that, Lupe’s still not feeling great,” Jess says back. 

“Oh, I hope it isn’t anything contagious. I’ve got a big date this Friday,” Maybelle says. “And of course that Lu’s okay.” 

Jess nods, and is cut off by a fan coming up to the two of them with a newly bought t-shirt to sign. 

Jess still doesn’t know what their signature is supposed to look like. Right now it’s a messed up JM that is never consistent. They can only imagine how much of a bitch it’ll be to authenticate early signed merchandise when Peach Fizz absolutely blows up globally (According to Lupe. Jess has never been quite as optimistic). 

They get the signal to break up the clump as Love Bomb gets ready to come on. Maybelle, Greta and Jo decide to stay out in the crowd for their set, but Lupe says goodnight to the group and tells Greta to apologize to the girls in Love Bomb for not being able to stay, which means that Jess does the same. 

They gather up their things and make their way out to Jess’s banged up Ford Mustang. Jess stacks their guitars up in the back seat, and then shoves their bags on top. Lupe sits down in the passenger seat with another water bottle and a bag of peanut m&ms. 

The drive to Lupe’s apartment is quiet with just the hum of the radio occupying space. Jess makes small talk, but it’s mostly one sided as Lupe stares tiredly out the window. Jess gets it. They would rather Lupe be talking to them but they’re too concerned to be selfish. 

“Do you want to stop anywhere before we get to yours?” Jess asks. “Convenience store, McDonalds?”

Lupe shakes her head. 

“Honestly, the driving is making me feel sick again,” Lupe says. 

“Just don’t do it in the car,” Jess warns. 

“Don’t worry, babe, I won’t.” 

Jess inhales sharply. Lupe doesn’t notice it. They know she doesn’t mean anything by the pet name, it’s been in her repertoire since they started writing music together. It’s always platonic, but the more Jess hears it, the more they want it to be something more. 

Even when it gets to be more- the handful of nights that things have gone further than an innocent arm around the shoulder- feels like they’re platonic. Lupe shuts it down every time Jess tries to talk about it, but she loves it at the moment- initiates most of it, even. For someone ‘unsure of her sexuality, but probably not really gay’ she sure does a lot of gay shit. 

Still. Jess doesn’t fault her. Even if she does things that no straight woman would think of doing, Jess is letting her pave the path. 

They just really want that path to be paved and ready to walk on. 

Regardless, you can’t force attraction. If Lupe does decide she is queer, that still doesn’t mean she would feel that way about Jess. They are happy to exist in the homoerotic friendship they have. 

Still, the way pet names roll off her tongue sends little goosebumps up Jess’s arms. 

Jess pulls up to the street in front of Lupe’s apartment complex. A small, four storey building with six units on each floor. Lupe’s got one of the unfortunately dingy basement suites with no balcony, facing the street. 

Lupe unbuckles, but doesn’t make a move to get out of the car. She stares straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed and her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing absently. Jess turns down the radio. 

“Lu?” 

Lupe looks over at them, her eyes glossy. She trembles, and her lips part. She doesn’t need to speak for Jess to know what she’s going to say. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Jess asks. 

“Can we go to yours?” Lupe asks. Jess nods. 

“Of course,” Jess says. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” 

“I’m sorry I should’ve asked when we left the bar I just- I- I don’t want to be alone,” Lupe asks.

“It’s okay,” Jess says. “I can stay here, if you want, I don’t mind.” 

“My bed’s not made,” Lupe says. “Sheets aren’t even on it. I don’t want to do it tonight.” 

“I can do it,” Jess says. 

“Can we please just go to yours?” Lupe asks. 

 Jess stiffens. Suddenly, whatever is going on with Lupe feels a lot more serious than they initially thought. Still, they don’t push. Instead, they take a deep breath and nod.

“Okay, okay, sure. But I’m stopping for McDonalds,” Jess says. 

Lupe nods. 

“I’ll pay.” 

So that’s what they do. Jess turns around and they head to the other side of town, stopping to get burgers, fries and milkshakes. Lupe pays and the two eat in the car in the parking lot. Lupe dips her fries in her milkshake, but leaves most of them untouched. Whatever panic formed in front of her apartment hasn’t dissipated, but it’s softened. She doesn’t look like she’s going to cry. She doesn’t talk about any of it.

They unload their things from Jess’s car and they bring it all inside in one trip. Lupe abandons her guitar in the living room, but Jess puts theirs in their bedroom. Their apartment is a small, one bedroom unit on the third floor, only accessible by stairs. It’s not very decorated, but holds all of the essentials. Any of the paintings hung up were bought by Lupe or Maybelle (mostly Maybelle, who swears up and down that Jess’s apartment is ‘no way to live’). The walls are a boring white, the throw carpet in the living room adds a splash of baby blue. The couch is the same one they stole from the disaster apartment, old and cracked leather.

“Can I shower?” Lupe asks. 

“You know where everything is,” Jess replies. She nods and disappears. 

In the meantime, Jess puts away the rack of dry dishes from earlier, and then grabs an extra blanket from the closet. By time Lupe’s out, Jess has the couch set up and the kettle on for tea. 

Lupe makes her way to the living room while Jess showers, and a few minutes later the two are sitting on the couch on opposite ends with tea in hand. 

It’s quiet as they watched an old Friends rerun. Lupe is sitting with a pillow against her stomach, legs pulled up close to her chest. Jess tries not to stare, but they’re worried. 

Jess gets up to put their empty mug in the sink and Lupe follows. 

“I think I’m going to head off to bed. Do you need anything else?” Jess asks. Lupe hesitates. 

“Can I sleep with you?” she asks after a moment of hesitation.

It’s not like it will be the first time they’ve shared a mattress. Usually it’s out of necessity when the whole group crashes at the same place after a night at the bar, since they’re all too broke for separate cabs. It’s not often they do it just because, but with the night that Lupe’s had, they don’t even think twice. 

“Yeah. C’mon.” 

They settle on their side of the bed, and Lupe crawls under the covers on hers. She lays on her back and stares up at the ceiling as Jess turns out the lamp, leaving them in darkness. 

Jess doesn’t move closer, giving Lupe as much room on the bed as she needs. They roll over so their back is facing Lupe and they close their eyes.  Lupe shifts closer, and Jess feels the mattress dip to the center. 

“Jess?” Lupe whispers. 

“Mmm?” 

There’s no response for so long, Jess thinks Lupe’s fallen asleep. It’s not until Jess starts to drift that they catch the faintest sound of Lupe’s voice, somewhere off in the distance. 

“ I think there’s something wrong with me. ” 

Jess wakes up before Lupe, who’s cuddling a pillow and has somehow kicked off her half of the blanket over onto Jess. 

They sneak out of bed, carefully draping the blanket over her before they start making breakfast for the two of them in the kitchen. 

Lupe’s a heavy sleeper. She once slept through an entire drunken jam session after a particularly rowdy night after a concert (as attendees, not performers) despite being in the same room as them. So Jess doesn’t worry about being quiet as they grind coffee beans and start on bacon and eggs. 

Usually for breakfast, Jess is content with toast or a bowl of cereal, but they want to do something for Lupe. They don’t know how to get a direct answer out of her, but they can at least give her a good breakfast without it seeming like they’re trying to dote on her. 

They hum quietly to themself as they work, they don’t even notice when Lupe comes out wearing one of Jess’s sweaters. 

She sits down with a soft, “morning.” 

Jess doesn’t startle. They turn around and give a small smile. 

“Hey. Feeling better?” Jess asks. Lupe attempts to run a hand through her knotted hair, having fallen asleep with it wet and unbraided. 

“I don’t think I know what better is right now,” Lupe admits. 

“Do you think coffee could help?” they ask. 

“No, but it’s always worth a shot,” Lupe says. She forces a small smile, but it’s gone as soon as it arrives. Jess nods and pours her a cup, and then adds just the smallest splash of milk to it, just like how Lupe drinks it. 

“Did you at least sleep okay?” Jess asks. 

“Honestly? I think that was the best I’ve slept since this whole… mom thing went down,” Lupe says. 

“Is that what all this is about?” Jess asks. Lupe goes quiet. 

“Can we talk about this later?” she asks. Jess nods. 

“Whenever you’re ready. So uh, do you want toast, pancakes or waffles with breakfast?” Jess changes the topic. They don’t know what else to do. They don’t want to push. They really don’t. They don’t want to treat her like a helpless wounded animal either though, dancing around the subject until she dies because she won’t let them help.

“Just toast,” Lupe says. “Do you have any fruit?”

“Uh, canned peaches, some blueberries and a couple apples?” 

“Surprise me,” Lupe says. 

Jess grabs the blueberries and puts them in a small bowl with a dollop of greek yogurt and some granola, mixing it so the yogurt just coats the berries. They give Lupe the coffee and the berries, and then a few minutes later, the plate of eggs,  bacon and buttered toast. They plate their own food and sit down across from Lupe at the tiny table. 

They sip their coffee as Lupe picks absently at her food, taking it in small bites. 

She doesn’t look sickly. That’s a good thing, Jess supposes. That means it’s probably not an illness of some sort. Lupe’s mom has always been a stresspoint for her, as long as Jess has known her anyways (sometimes they have to remind themself that that’s only been two years). She’s never given away much information, but every visit to Texas leaves her coming back with a stiffer back and a few days where she’s completely off. Jess could see it when she came home with them for Easter too, the way she carried herself around Jess’s family was so timid and quiet compared to the person that Jess met in that awful five roommate disaster of an apartment when she first moved to LA. They only lived in the apartment together for two months before Jess got their own place after getting into a fight with one of the guys there. It's a wonder they ended up being so close.

So it’s not an illness. It could be her mom, but her mom has never gotten to her this much before. Which means it’s something to do with her mom, but maybe she’s not the entire issue. 

“I had a dream last night,” Lupe says absently. “That I was pushed on a stage for some sort of play… where I had to play a uh, a pregnant woman in the middle of divorcing her husband, but I didn’t know my lines, and every time I messed something up on the stage, the lights got brighter and my stomach got heavier and the actor I was working with got madder. I kept trying to remember my lines, but the man got so fed up with me, he told the- the uh, audience, or the judge, I guess? Maybe the audience was the judge? I don’t know, but he told them I was delirious, and unable to make decisions. That I was incapable of understanding what I was asking for,” she rambles. “And in the dream, the audience just laughed. I guess they all thought this was how the play was supposed to go. Eventually I got so overwhelmed I couldn’t say anything, and the man kept speaking for me but it was all wrong, like the play was supposed to end in him losing but he was using my frazzlement to win instead.” 

“What happened in the end?”

“I woke up before I found out,” Lupe says. She sips at her coffee. “I can still feel the panic though.” 

“And that happened during a better sleep?” Jess asks. Lupe shrugs. 

“I really haven’t been sleeping well.” 

Jess nods. Lupe looks like she’s going to talk more, but she spoons more blueberries in her mouth, and chases it with more coffee. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I really don’t think that dreams mean anything. They’re just a product of being in deep sleep, and your brain firing off signals at random, so they get like. Confused. I wouldn’t read too into it,” Jess dismisses. “Besides, none of that is possible.” 

Lupe hesitates, laughs awkwardly and then nods. She looks down at her food. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Jess says. “I know I might not be able to help, but I can listen. I won’t judge you for anything.” 

“I know you won’t,” Lupe says with a soft smile. “I think that’s why it’s so hard to talk about it. I just- I’m so stressed about so many what ifs , nothing is even solidified yet. I think that’s the issue. I’m so stressed about not knowing so much that I can’t even figure out what I do know.” 

“Lu, that makes no sense,” Jess says. 

“I know it doesn’t! And it sucks!” Lupe says. She sighs and stabs at her eggs, shaking her head. Jess just waits. Lupe doesn’t talk again though. She finishes her plate and then gets up to rinse her dishes off in the sink. 

“Don’t you dare start washing those,” Jess says. They shovel the remains of their food into their mouth and get up to turn off the tap to the sink. “You’re not doing my dishes.” 

“I want to help though… Please ?” 

Jess hesitates before they nod. 

“Fine, fine. But I’m washing, you can dry,” Jess says. 

“Deal.” 

So they fall into a quiet pattern of Jess washing the dishes in the sink before handing it off to Lupe to dry them off and put them away. Not a word is exchanged between the two of them as they work. It’s an easy rhythm, one that finishes rather quickly. 

Lupe dries off the frying pan and sets it on top of the stove. She leans against the counter and crosses her arms across her chest. She chews on her lip again and stares at the clock. Jess watches for a moment, before they carefully reach out and take Lupe’s arm. She looks over as Jess reaches up and wipes away a small trickle of blood falling down her lip. 

“You’re chewing your lips raw, Lu,” they say. Lupe licks her lips and grimaces. 

“Nasty habit,” she mutters. 

She wipes at her lip with the back of her hand before she takes another deep breath. 

“I um… A couple months ago I…” 

The phone starts ringing. Jess decides to ignore it, but on the second ring Lupe goes over to it and checks the caller ID. 

“Ignore it, Lu, they can call back,” Jess calls out. 

“It’s Greta,” she calls back. 

“I’ll call her back,” Jess dismisses. Lupe sits down and picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Jess sighs and moves to the living room to sit down next to Lupe. 

“Jess! Jess please tell me Lupe’s over there. She didn’t pick up her phone all three times I rang!” Greta’s excited voice comes through the phone. Jess and Lupe look up at each other curiously. 

“Yeah, I’m here Greta. Whats going on?” Lupe asks. 

“Is Jess there?!” she asks. 

“Yep,” Jess replies, her voice a bit more flat. They look at Lupe. 

“You guys are never going to believe this! I just got off the phone with Beverly and she got an email this morning from the manager of Dottie Hinson and they want us to open for her on her tour next summer!” Greta squeals, and somewhere in the background so does a second voice. 

“Holy shit,” Jess says under their breath. Lupe’s eyes go wide. 

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Maybelle chimes in from the other side of the line. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve got everyone on the line by the way!” Greta says. “But come on, isn’t this exciting?!”

Jess and Lupe exchange a look with each other, both of their faces light up in shock. Jess sits up a little bit straighter, they can feel their heart racing. Something in Lupe shifts.  

“That’s… crazy,” Lupe says. “What… What else did she say?” Lupe asks. 

“Nothing much, she wants us all to come in for a meeting tomorrow afternoon to talk about the potential contract... Oh yeah and… Just that Dottie’s label is interested in signing us if the tour goes well!” 

There’s more squealing. 

“We should celebrate! Tonight! What are you guys doing? Let's go for dinner!” Greta says. Maybelle and Jo are quick to agree, and Jess decides that they can probably make dinner work, but Lupe speaks up once everyone’s calmed down. 

“I have a shift at Dorothy’s tonight, but uh, don’t let that hold you guys back,” she says, her tone so much lighter and happier than it was just minutes before. 

“What time are you off? We can wait! You have to be with us,” Maybelle says. 

“I’ll… We can celebrate officially after the meeting,” Lupe says. “We should wait to hear the details before we get too excited.” 

“Oh come on, Lupe. You are the last person who should be going all realistic on us,” Greta says. 

“It’s cool as fuck! I’m- I’m trembling right now, but I’m just saying! I want to celebrate, but I think we should hear from Beverly first.” 

“Okay, okay. Be a realistic bore. We’re going out tonight though! We’ll visit you!” 

“I’ll celebrate with you when you guys get there,” Lupe laughs. 

“Okay, love you both! I have to go call so many people to tell them I told you so!” 

Greta hangs up, and the line goes dead. 

Jess goes to speak, but Lupe jumps up and grabs Jess by the hands, yanking them up with her. She hugs Jess tight, and kisses them sloppily on the cheek. She pulls away, and the smile falters a little bit. 

“Sorry I just-” 

Jess shakes their head, and then takes Lupe’s face in their hand. They wait for a sign, and after the slightest nod from Lupe, they kiss her right on the lips, just as harsh and sloppy. 

They pull away laughing. Jess knows it's nothing but an expression of excitement. They can’t bring themselves to care when they see the smile on her face. 

“This is crazy!” Lupe says. “We- this could be huge for us!” 

“You didn’t seem that excited with Greta on the phone,” Jess says. 

“I can’t let my cool guy guard down,” Lupe jokes, but there’s something absent in her tone. She pulls them in for another hug. 

“Oh fuck off,” Jess laughs. The excitement settles, the worry is still etched deep into her face but some of it has been lifted. Jess can’t help but watch her expression. 

“Hey so uh, what were you-”

“Later, we can talk later,” Lupe dismisses. “This is… This is so much more important.” 

“Are you sure?” Jess asks. Lupe takes their hands. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Chapter Text

Jess plagues Lupe’s mind for the next week. 

She resists the urge to try and message them on any social media. Lupe only has instagram, and even then she rarely opens it. Jess’s account has almost half a million followers anyways so even if they had direct messages on, their account would be flooded with so many DMs she’d get lost in the sea of strangers. 

She tries not to replay the conversation in her mind. She tries not to imagine the end of the conversation going differently- where she thinks to ask for Jess’s number, or she doesn’t somehow scare them away.

Lupe would be lying if she said the what ifs never crossed her mind. Of course she found herself thinking about Peach Fizz every now and then, usually when she saw something about them online. She stares at the group photos and imagines herself as the fifth member instead of that short, mousey brunette whose name was something like Carley or Carla. 

(She knows it’s Carson. She’s not spiteful towards this woman she’s never met, but it’s easier to pretend they’ve got a two sided feud.) 

When the band crosses her mind though, she mostly wonders what would be different between her and Jess. That’s the thing that sucks the most about them showing up out of nowhere in a place where Lupe couldn’t properly apologize for anything she did. Had she not left the band, they probably wouldn’t have fallen out in the way they did. Or maybe if she had been more honest they wouldn’t have lost touch. 

It was a cruel reminder when Jess appeared and then disappeared again. 

That’s just how life goes though. Fate doesn’t owe anything to Lupe. There’s really no reason for their paths to cross again. 

Unless Jess decides to show up at her bar that they know she owns. 

That’s worse; knowing that the idea of them crossing paths again is in Jess’s control. 

Her mind only has time to drift off to those thoughts at night, when she’s stuck staring at her ceiling until she eventually falls asleep, but it’s still enough to haunt her. During the day she’s got a hundred things to do that’s more important. Alma needs to get ready and be walked to school, and she has calls to make and emails to reply to and an endless sea of everything else. She has to do laundry and the dishes and she keeps making a mental note to book both her and Alma’s dental cleaning but every time she actually remembers to do it, the dentist is closed. She has a bag of clothes to donate to the women's shelter, and her coffee table needs to be refinished, and her hair needs a trim and she promised Alma they could go to the bookstore this week if she finishes all of her nightly reading on her own, and she’s making so much more progress than Lupe anticipated. 

Lupe walks Alma to school Wednesday morning. She wears her daughter’s orange, yellow and pink backpack on her shoulder and Alma walks happily beside her, rambling on about class plans. 

“And then on Friday, it’s my turn for show and tell, and I wanna play a song for it which means that I’ll need to bring my guitar to school, so we need to put that on the reminder board. Oh! But today in science we’re all getting our own caterpillars! I think, anyway. Mrs Brookes has been teasing about them all week, ever since we all brought in our supplies. Do you remember when I brought my last library book home? I think we’re going to go again tomorrow and I don’t want to forget my book. I really want to get the next book in the series, but Emma keeps reading ahead of me but she’s such a slow reader. It’s a graphic novel series! It shouldn’t take that long to read a graphic novel. I can read a whole one in one day, I think they should let me go to the library more than once every… two weeks. Two weeks? How often do you go to the library, Mama?” 

Lupe blinks as Alma finally stops to breathe. She’s walking a few steps ahead of Lupe, and she’s turned around so she’s walking backwards. Lupe thinks that’s a disaster waiting to happen, but she doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t think I’ve been to a library in a very long time,” she says honestly. “Not since I was in school. Do you remember that?”

“Why would I remember when you were in school?!” she exclaims. Lupe smiles. 

“Well I did a lot of my degree with you in my arms,” she says. “You got us kicked out of the library a few times for crying. You weren’t a very good study partner.” 

Alma scrunches up her nose.

“I don’t believe you. You’re like… ancient, and I’m so small,” Alma says. 

“Ancient!? How old do you think I am?” Lupe laughs. Alma shrugs. 

“Mrs Brookes says that you have to be old to be a mom,” she says. 

“Well… kind of. I had you when I was twenty, which is pretty young for a mom, but I started university when I was twenty three, which can be considered pretty old to start,” Lupe explains. “Not everyone chooses the same path, everyone does things at different times, but being a mom is a lot of responsibility, and it’s easier to do when you’re older, after you’re done with school and you have a good job, and a partner that you want to have kids with.” 

Alma considers this. They’ve talked about all this before in one way or another. Alma understands that some kids have one parent, some have two and some can have more. She knows why it’s just her and Lupe, and she understands why her father has never been in the picture. She knows that some parents plan to have kids and sometimes they have kids by accident. She knows that Lupe didn’t love her father, and that they never meant to have a baby, but that doesn’t change how much she loves her daughter.

 Lupe knows she’s curious though, and she answers questions where she can, but it’s not always easy. Lupe doesn’t believe in sugar coating things just because she’s a kid, but she’s not going to give certain details to a ten year old. She doesn’t lie, but she explains why she’s going to withhold information from her. 

“Do you think it would be easier if you had a partner?” Alma asks. 

“Oh of course it would be, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job on my own, right?” Lupe asks. 

“Yeah! Yeah, but y’know. I really liked Scarlet,” Alma said. “She was a good girlfriend.” 

Lupe smiles softly. Scarlet was her longest girlfriend who was also involved in Alma’s life. They dated for six months before Lupe was ready to introduce her to Alma, and then they dated for another year with Alma joining them on lots of adventures. She wanted to move to Seattle though, and Lupe didn’t want to uproot Alma. That was roughly when she started talking to Vi about buying Dorothy’s too, and the business and her daughter were simply more important.

“Yeah, she was, but sometimes you date someone and it doesn’t last forever,” Lupe says. “She really loved you, but she and I had different ideas of what we wanted in life, and so we decided we were better off as friends.” 

“So why don’t you have a new one yet?”

“I have had girlfriends since,” Lupe says. 

“No!” 

“Yes! I just don’t tell you about them,” Lupe says, laughing at her daughter’s shocked expression. 

“That’s not fair! I want to know her too!” Alma says. 

“Okay, well, next time I have a girlfriend, I’ll tell you right away, okay? I just don’t like introducing you to them too soon. You’re too special, I have to make sure they’re special enough to meet you,” Lupe says.

They arrive at the beginning of the park’s sidewalk and Lupe slows to a halt. Alma turns around and looks at Lupe with a small pout. 

“Well, I have to make sure they’re special enough for you ,” she says. Lupe smiles. She drops Alma’s backpack off her shoulder and sets it down on the pavement. She scoops Alma up for a tight hug, before she lets her go. 

“Thank you, Lobito. Now go find your friends,” Lupe says. “Remember, I work late tonight so Esti is going to pick you up, I should see you before I go though!” 

“Okay, bye Mama!” 

Lupe lingers on the path for a moment until another mother approaches with her kids. Lupe gives them a small nod and a smile before she starts walking back towards her home. 

Since she’s hosting the Open Mic, Lupe doesn’t start making her way to Dorothy’s until four. Even when she’s not hosting any events, it’s not abnormal for Lupe to spend most of her workday elsewhere. Yesterday she had a business meeting with the local brewery that they’re partnered with about their upcoming summer flavours but since the brewery’s office was an hour away, Lupe spent most the day there (thankfully, Vi came with her and drove), and then on Monday she stopped in during the morning to help open since they were short an opener, but took off after two once the staff felt comfortable enough to work on their own to go look at new light fixtures for the kitchen. 

She’s always a phone call away though, and she’s no stranger to showing up when she needs to. Lupe spent seven years working between the bar and the kitchen, both as staff and a manager before she started taking over, so she’s well equipped to do it all and understands how stressful it can be when things go wrong. 

The bar is busy when she arrives. It’s not overwhelming, but there’s a nice swell to the atmosphere. This is just the late lunch/early dinner crowd, the open mic sign up doesn’t start until seven, and while people definitely show up before then to make sure they get a spot, no one is ever this early. 

Lupe gives a small passing hello to the waiters as she makes her way to her office in the basement. It’s a small room in the back that’s cozily decorated, most of which was there before she took over, including the ridiculous maple, mid century desk as well as the two plush green arm chairs. Otherwise, the basement has the staff room and the overflow storage room, which mostly contains various sound supplies that need to be sorted through, but Lupe’s not as technologically savvy as she wishes she was to be the one to do that. 

She takes off her jacket and drapes it over her chair, before she logs onto her computer and goes through the motions; she checks her emails, looks at the business report from this time last year, makes a few notes on some things to do, and then once she’s killed enough time to not productively sit downstairs anymore, she grabs a mint from her candy bowl and makes her way back upstairs. 

Lupe washes her hands and slips behind the bar, greeting Max who’s currently mixing what looks like four margaritas. 

One of the younger waitresses comes around the corner with a tray of food, but when she notices Lupe her eyes go wide and she stops. Her name is Emma, and she was freshly twenty one when she joined the team, and while it was her bubbly personality that compelled Lupe to hire her, her skills definitely kept her around. She’s hard working and loves all the live music they bring in. Right now though, she’s got a look of either horror or excitement on her face, which makes Lupe stare at her with wide eyes. 

“Oh thank god you’re here! Don’t move! I’ll be right back!” she says, which only makes Lupe more concerned. She looks over at Max, who just shrugs at her and puts the four drinks on the bar to be collected. 

“I only got here ten minutes before you did,” Max says. Lupe nods absently, and crosses her arm as she watches Emma drop off food, and then check on other tables. Then, she locks eyes with Lupe and bounds right over. She leans against the bar, her hands clasped, practically vibrating. 

“You will never guess who came in today looking for you!” Emma says. 

Lupe’s stomach does a little flip. She stands a little bit straighter, and her arms drop to the side. She steps forward, an eyebrow raised. She tries to play it off like she has no idea, but there’s only one person that comes to her mind. 

“Who?” Lupe asks. 

Emma bounces again. 

“Will you freak out? Do you fangirl?” Emma asks. Lupe laughs. 

“I’ll be able to handle it,” Lupe says. 

“Okay, okay. Do you know who Peach Fizz is? Like, one of the greatest bands of all time?” Emma asks. 

“Yes,” Lupe says. 

“It was Jess McCready! Their guitar player! They came in and sat down at the bar and asked if you were in! They didn’t ask for the owner, they asked for Lupe! ” she squeals. “How do you know them?”

“We uh, they came in last week during the open mic and we happened to chat,” Lupe lies, though she supposes everything she says is technically true. She did talk to Jess at the open mic, she’s just leaving out the reason why she knows Jess. Lupe can feel Max staring at her, but she doesn’t look over. 

“Oh, that makes so much sense actually. Okay well, when I told them you weren’t, they asked if they could leave a message for you, and so I was like, uh yeah of course, but can you sign my shirt? And so they signed my shirt, which is just like. A boring white tee but I panicked!” 

“Okay, wait, Emma, what was the message?” Lupe asks. Emma lights up. 

“Oh! Here!” She pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper torn out of her notebook and hands it to Lupe. “I promise I didn’t read it! They asked me not to.” 

“Well I’d hope not,” Lupe says with a small laugh. 

“What does it say?” Emma asks. Lupe shrugs, and she stashes it away in her back pocket without unfolding the paper. 

“If they didn’t want you to read it, why would I read it out loud to you?” Lupe asks. 

“Oh come on ! This is so exciting! I mean it’s not every day you have Jess McCready coming to ask about you… Although, if it was me, I would want it to be Greta or Carson asking about me, but like. Totally not in a weird way, because they are so obviously in love, but you know. They’re my favourites,” Emma rambles. 

Lupe nods absently, not quite listening to what Emma has to say about Peach Fizz. Emma has raved about them before, she begged the scheduling manager for the morning off the day Peach Fizz tickets went on sale for their most recent tour, and when she did get the tickets it was all she talked about for months leading up to it. It never really affected Lupe before though, but with Jess’s presence so recent in her mind, she’s reminded that not only are these real people that Emma is talking about, but it’s people that Lupe knows. Which… well. It’s just a bit strange. 

“Thank you, Emma. Please go check on your tables now,” Lupe says. 

“Will you tell me if it says anything cool?” Emma asks. 

“Sure. Now go, thank you.” 

Emma takes off, and Lupe exchanges a look with Max. 

“Do you think she’s ever looked at the writing credits on Mother’s Daughter? ” Max asks. Lupe snorts. 

“Obviously not,” she says. 

“Probably a good thing,” Max says. She offers a small smile, Lupe just nods. 

Lupe doesn’t bring it up, and not very many people make the connection, but she’s the first name on almost every writing credit for Peach Fizz’s debut album. The band recorded most of what Lupe had written for them, and while she wasn’t asked for permission to record them, someone made sure that she got the proper writing credits and royalties for her work. She’s pretty sure it was Beverly, but she didn’t ask very many questions when she signed the release forms. They wrote a couple of new songs while recording, and they cut a couple that Lupe wrote, but she doesn’t care now.   The songs weren’t hers anymore once the band played them together.

Max learned that fun fact five years ago when the two of them were at a small party with some of the staff of Dorothy’s. There was maybe ten of them, just gathered in someone’s living room, drinking and talking about whatever and she drunkenly confessed it when one of the songs came on shuffle. No one really brought it up again after that, and now Max’s the only staff member still around from that night. 

“Go hide in your office and read the note, I can tell you want to,” Max says. 

“I actually don’t,” Lupe says. “I literally just convinced myself this morning to stop thinking about them.” 

“What’s the worst that can happen? It’s probably just… them saying it was nice to see you again,” Max suggests. She wipes off the bar. “Maybe they want to reconnect. Or give a generous donation to Dorothy’s.” 

Lupe sighs. 

“I just never thought I’d see them again.” Lupe says. 

“It’s just a note. Go read it,” Max says. 

Lupe nods. She taps the bar absently before she leaves, sinking back down to her office once more. She has exactly seventeen minutes before she needs to start setting up the stage for the open mic. 

Lupe sits down at her desk and puts the note on her desk. Her name is written on the front of the folded paper in Jess’s familiar chicken scratch. She stares at it for a moment, before she finally takes a deep breath and unfolds it. 

Hey. Sorry I ran off so quickly last week. Tried to stop by twice to see you but you weren’t around. You aren’t avoiding me, are you? I feel like we both got a lot of things we wanted to say to each other. I think we should. Maybe over a drink? 

Call me. 

-J 

Below that, Jess’s number is written out in much better handwriting than the rest of the note. She can picture them taking extra time to make sure each of the numbers written was legible. Lupe rereads the letter and then folds it up, stashes it away in the top drawer of her desk, and then immediately takes it out again. She reads it one more time, adds Jess’s number to her phone and then stashes the letter away again. She closes the contacts app, and then puts her phone in the top drawer as well. 

Then, she realizes how ridiculous she’s being and pulls her phone out again to put in her back pocket. It’s not that big of a deal, she tells herself. A drink. It would probably be a weight off her chest to tell Jess everything she couldn’t before. 

It would just be a drink. 

Lupe starts bringing the equipment up for the open mic, and with the help of the sound technician, they get the stage ready. Her phone sits like a rock in her back pocket, she can feel it with every shift of her body. 

Once the stage is set up, and the two have done a quick sound check with Lupe’s own guitar, Lupe returns to sit at the bar. She types something out and deletes it, and then retypes the same thing. 

“Did Jess curse you out in the note?” Max asks. She pours Lupe a seltzer water with a lime and smiles. Lupe laughs. 

“No, but I think they’re going to.” 

Her hand hovers over the send button on the text message. Then, she hits send and stashes her phone back in her pocket. 

I think we should too. Does next Monday at The Malt House work? -L 

Lupe unbuttons her shirt and pulls on a different one, doing all but the last two buttons and tucking it into her pants before she turns to face the mirror. She fusses with her hair, and then the collar, and then takes the shirt off again. 

“I like the last one better,” Alma says. She’s curled up on Lupe’s unmade bed, the blankets and pillows carefully arranged around her to make a small nest. She has The Battle of the Labyrinth in her hand and The Last Olympian next to her on standby. She doesn’t look up from her book as she speaks, bringing the straw of her water bottle up to her lips for a drink. 

Lupe looks behind her and sighs. 

“It’s too bright. I don’t like bright clothes,” Lupe says. Alma scrunches up her nose. 

“Why’d you buy it then?” she asks. Lupe hesitates, because she really doesn’t know. 

“I think the plain red one is fine,” she decides, and grabs a different shirt from her closet. 

“Why are you so upset about your outfit? You said you were just seeing your friend,” Alma says. “But… you really don’t have many friends. Oh! Is this a date!?” She snaps her book shut and looks up at Lupe, a newfound excitement in her eyes. 

“No, no it’s not a date,” Lupe says. She adjusts her hair in the mirror again, and then slides her rings back on her fingers. 

“You told me you’d say if it was,” Alma says. 

“And I will stand by that, I will, but this is not a date,” Lupe says. “I’m meeting an old friend. That’s all, they’re just in town for a bit.” 

“So… why do you care what you look like?” Alma asks. Lupe shrugs. She doesn’t know. It’s a way to channel her nerves, she supposes. 

“Okay, I’m going to call a taxi and then get Esti to come over,” Lupe says. “Remember, in bed by eight thirty. I shouldn’t be too late. Now, c’mon. You’re not allowed in here when I’m not home.” 

She ushers Alma out of her nest and the two of them go downstairs. Lupe pulls on her shoes and then double checks that she has everything she needs. Once Esti’s over, Lupe waits outside for her ride and then takes off. 

She stares out the window of the car as they drive in silence. Normally the silence drives her crazy, but right now she doesn’t mind it. She has had a week to practice what she wants to say to Jess, and she has no idea. She doesn’t know where to start. That’s the issue. She doesn’t want to dance around anything, but there’s so much to say that she doesn’t know how to say it in the most efficient way possible. 

Lupe thanks the driver and gets out half a block early, but she uses the time to smoke half a cigarette on her walk to the front doors of The Malt House. She stamps it out and puts it in the trash before she takes a deep breath and makes her way inside. 

Jess is sitting in a booth, staring down at their phone. Lupe watches them for a moment, lingering by the front podium. They don’t look at Lupe, too engrossed in whatever is on their screen. For a moment, she considers leaving, but that’s cowardly, and she doesn’t want to be  a coward anymore. 

“Hey,” she says as she approaches. Jess looks up from their phone and smiles. 

“Hey,” they say. Lupe hovers for a second, unsure if Jess is going to get out of their seat or not, but when it’s clear they won’t, she slips into the booth across from Jess. 

There’s silence for a moment, before Jess takes a sharp breath in. 

“I wanted to apologize for running off so quickly last week,” Jess says. “I uh… I just. I don’t really like the attention from fans? And those two girls… They were nice and all, but once I knew they were there I could just feel their eyes on me, and when you suggested I play a song for them , I just got really pissed off. 

“Y’know, my therapist says I should actually express my feelings instead of just running away from them, but I guess I really didn’t want to try. I meant to give you my number before I left but I just… freaked out, I guess, and I forgot to, and I’m sorry,” Jess finishes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No, yeah, and I’m not mad at you for not knowing or anything. I just… I guess fame, the band, it’s really not… all that I thought it would be? I’m really trying to take this break between albums as a real break and it’s just hard when the world won’t let me clock out of my job,” Jess says. 

“And I made it worse by asking you to play something for them…” Lupe says. 

“Yeah, a little bit,” Jess says. 

“I’m sorry. That sucks,” Lupe says. Jess cracks a small smile. 

“No it doesn’t. It’s such a privileged fucking problem,” Jess says. “I just, I owe you the apology, because I really wanted to leave on a good note that night.”

“For the record, I only asked because I wanted to hear you play something,” Lupe says. 

“For the record, I would’ve for you if you didn’t mention the fans… Or if you played with me,” Jess says. 

“I told you, I really don’t perform anymore. Hosting the open mic for the last few weeks has been the most I’ve played on stage since I left the band,” Lupe says. 

“See… I don’t get that. You were the most talented out of all of us by fucking far, and you had the most passion. I never could get my head around how you just dropped it all out of nowhere,” Jess says. 

“I think about what could’ve been different more often than you’d think,” Lupe says. “I didn’t do it because I wanted to, it really felt like the only option at the time.”

Jess nods. 

“I missed you, you know.” 

“I missed you too,” Lupe says. Jess relaxes a little bit, and smiles softly. 

Jess almost says something, but their waiter decides this is the best time to come ask them for their order. Jess orders a coke zero and Lupe orders a peach sour. 

“You know… I always wondered if you did,” Jess says. “I mean, you ended things pretty harshly. I never could figure out what I did exactly, but I figured that you purged everything about me that you could from your life.”

“You never did anything wrong, Jess. I just… I was going through a lot,” Lupe says. “And I uh, I probably should've dealt with it differently and I’m sorry for the way I treated you because of it. You deserved better too.” 

Jess swallows. The air hangs heavy between the two. 

“Yeah…” 

The two go quiet again. Lupe turns her attention to the menu, but even as her eyes glaze over the words, nothing really processes. She has no idea what’s on the menu, she only picked this place because it wasn’t too far from her home, and it’s a place that holds no connections for her. Not to Jess. Not to anyone else. Not to herself. It looks like typical brewery food, where the real reason why you come in is the drinks, but they legally have to serve food so they do generic, overpriced pub food. She didn’t even think about the fact that Jess wasn’t drinking when she picked it. 

“I resented you for a long time,” Jess admits. 

“I don’t blame you,” Lupe replies. 

“I mean, touring was fun at first, but every night I’d turn to dance with you on stage, and you were never there. Or, I’d get a drink and I’d go to order yours instead, or I’d make a joke that only you’d find funny or I’d look for you to back me up in an argument but you were never there. Carson’s… fine, but we never really got along. Everything felt different and wrong and I was the only one who felt that way because everyone else was getting along great. The band went from being our band, to being everyone’s band, to being Greta and Carson’s band from our first album to our second. I stopped being a part of the writing process simply because I was getting sick of my ideas getting shut down by Carson or Greta, who both seemed to love every idea that each other came up with.

“And every time they pissed me off, it was never their fault in my mind. It was yours. You know, it was your fault that we had to audition for a new guitarist, and it was your fault that Greta and Carson got along so well, so it was your fault when I stopped feeling important for the band, which meant that it was your fault when I stopped writing, and it was your fault when I started to feel lonely, and it was your fault that I deleted your number in a fit of rage when I called you and you were sleeping with someone… So it was your fault when I couldn’t call you anymore after I had calmed down.

“But it was never your fault. I mean, yeah, you left the band and that started everything, but I was putting everything on you when I shouldn’t have been, and I know that you had no way of knowing that, but I just really wanted to apologize for doing it,” Jess says.

It’s clear that they’ve been thinking about that for a long time now, the words all falling out of their mouths as if it was a perfectly rehearsed monologue. It stings a little bit as Lupe processes it, but she understands. She can see it so vividly from Jess’s perspective, because she has all the information and she left Jess with none of it. 

She furrows her eyebrow at the last example, trying to recall the phone call Jess is talking about. 

“What… Who was I sleeping with?” Lupe asks. 

“I don’t know. The last time I ever called you- I was drunk on your birthday, and I called to wish you a happy birthday and you hushed someone, told them to go back to bed and then you left the room to not disturb them,” Jess says. “I was really drunk, I didn’t remember a lot of the conversation the morning after… I don’t remember now.”

Lupe tries to rake her memories for what the hell Jess is talking about, before it dawns on her. 

“ Oh. ” 

“Oh?” 

“Oh, Jess. I wasn’t seeing anyone,” Lupe says. “I was hushing my baby.” 

“Your… baby?”

“I left the band because I was pregnant.” 

The words fall out so much easier from Lupe’s mouth than she expects them to. Instantly, a weight feels like it’s lifted off her chest and she can breathe a little bit easier. Jess is staring at her, wide eyed and sputtering. The waiter thinks this is the perfect time to drop off their drinks and ask if they need anything else. They both dismiss her for now. 

“I don’t- What? How? ” Jess asks. “You weren’t dating a guy. You never- unless…”

“ No! ” Lupe cuts them off before their mind can wander any further down a darker path. “It was… entirely consensual. I was dating him. We were together. I wanted to have sex with him,” she says. “At least… in the moment.” 

“I don’t understand. You never told me,” Jess says. 

Lupe takes a deep breath and tries to figure out the best way to start the story. She takes a sip of her beer and sits up a little straighter. 

“I don’t think you knew this…” Lupe starts hesitantly. “But you knew I was lesbian before I did.” 

Jess doesn’t say anything. They wait for her to continue. 

“And deep down, I knew you were right. Every time I’d bring up a guy, or how my mom was asking about boyfriends again, you’d make a remark about me not liking boys. You’d always include me when you were talking about lesbians and queers and it was really hard because I wasn’t ready to accept that about myself yet, so I would ignore it… but it put a lot of pressure on me to want to feel that way.

“So when I met my ex, I was nervous because I did… kind of like him? But I mean, as I got to know him I realized it was because he reminded me of someone else… The point is, I decided that before I decided if you were right about me, I wanted to give men one more honest try, for my mother, because I didn’t want her to be disappointed in me. So I did, and he was… nice, but it was only supposed to be a couple dates, and then we started going steady and the more serious it got, the more scared I got to tell you because I didn’t want you to judge me.

“So I just… didn’t. We dated for two months, he knew I played music but he didn’t know about the band. I purposely kept my two worlds separate because I didn’t want to disappoint you by admitting that I was straight or bi or whatever I thought I was at the time. We only had sex once… and I broke up with him right after because I just knew in my heart, you were right, and I wanted to admit it to myself.

“So I broke up with him, kicked him out, and called my mom the next morning to tell her that I was a lesbian. I couldn’t… I didn’t use the word back then, I used gay but she was furious. She thought I was finally getting my life together, and she begged me to reconsider and to go to church and to have my mind cleared, but I told her no… and then we started fighting regularly.”

“I knew about the fighting,” Jess says. 

“Yeah, I did a shit job hiding that part,” Lupe laughs. 

“In your defense, you two were always fighting,” Jess says. 

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Lupe says. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was doing that to you,” Jess says. “I never meant to put that pressure on you, I wish you could’ve told me.”

“I… It’s okay. It’s something I had to do, and… I wish it had gone differently sometimes, but I love my daughter more than anything. I wouldn’t wish her away for anything,” Lupe says. 

“Your daughter?”

Lupe nods. “She just turned ten at the start of April,” Lupe says. “Uh- can I finish my story?”

“Please, do,” Jess says. 

Lupe takes a second and then she continues. 

“So I thought everything was going to fall together. I uh, I deleted his number and I decided what I wanted, I was just trying to figure out how to make it happen… and then I started getting sick. And then my period was late, and between that and fighting with my mom, I started to panic. I didn’t take a test right away, but then it was coming on two months late and I was getting more and more symptoms that I knew I had to take one, and everything else had to be put on hold until I did.

“I uh, I was going to ask you to stay with me while I took it… The same morning that Beverly called Greta about the tour,” Lupe says. Jess melts. They reach out to take Lupe’s hand, and Lupe lets them. She gives it a small squeeze. 

“We were so fucking excited that I thought if I just didn’t take the test… if I ignored it, it would all go away. Obviously it didn’t,” Lupe says. “And as it got more real, I panicked more and more and I’d been lying for so long that I didn’t know what to do, so I just left… And I’m sorry for doing that, I’m sorry for everything I did to you leading up to that. I was using you to distract me from my own issues.”

“You mean by sleeping with me?” Jess asks. Lupe nods. 

“I thought that maybe if I had enough… gay sex, it would undo the only time I had sex with a man,” Lupe says. “I couldn’t terminate it though. I had an appointment set up and… I just… I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.” 

“I didn’t tell you about the boyfriend because I didn’t want you to judge me, but I didn’t tell you about the baby because I didn’t want to lose you. I knew my life was about to change and I… I couldn’t live with the idea of you hating me because I had to go on my own fucking sexuality journey and I fucked up because of it.” 

“Lu, I could never hate you because of that,” Jess says. “Fuck, I wish I could back in time and stop myself from making you feel that way. You should’ve been able to talk to me about that. You were my best friend. I would’ve… I would have supported you, in whatever way you needed. We could’ve found a way to work around the baby for the band.” 

“Jess. When the tour started, Alma was two months old. There was no fucking way that I would’ve been able to make both work. I always meant to tell you, but then we started fighting more than talking and before I knew it I was packing my shit up from your apartment and then you guys were gone… and I was alone. I’m not going to lie, I struggled a lot… and your drunken phone calls didn’t help,” Lupe says. “But I should’ve told you.” 

Jess nods. 

“I don’t… I have no idea what else to say,” Jess says. Lupe nods. 

“I can go if you want,” she offers. 

“No! No, don’t do that,” Jess panics. “I just… that’s a lot to carry on your own,” Jess says. 

“I managed… And I mean, I had Vi and a lot of the staff at Dorothy’s help out. I never imagined owning a fucking bar before I was thirty but here I am,” Lupe says. “I wasn’t supposed to take over so quickly but Vi’s wife had a health scare a couple years back and they decided that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives living it, not working, so she offered the place to me, since she trusted me the most and I had a business degree.” 

“You’re doing okay now, though?” Jess asks. Lupe nods. 

“Yeah, yeah… We’re… We’re doing good,” Lupe says. She hesitates, before she pulls out her phone and shows Jess her home screen, which is a photo of her and Alma from her birthday, a big cake with ten candles lit on it. 

“She looks just like you,” Jess says. 

“Yeah, I’m glad for that,” Lupe laughs. “I mean, her father was a nice guy and everything but… I don’t know. He’s not around, it was either we got married or he wasn’t in her life at all, so he’s never even met her.” 

“Has there… been anyone else?” 

“Like a partner?” Lupe asks.

Jess nods. 

“Yeah, there’s been a few. I didn't introduce them to Alma right away though… Of the four long term relationships I’ve had, only three of them have met Alma… And only one of them was introduced as my girlfriend . The other two she was too young to remember. She knows I’m a lesbian but-”

A smile starts to spread across Jess’s lips. Lupe furrows her eyebrows. 

“What?” she asks. Jess shrugs. 

“I just… The last time we spoke, you couldn’t even say the word lesbian,” they say. “It’s just… nice to hear you say it so confidently.” 

“Yeah well, like I said it took me a long time to get there… But I’m making sure she understands the community, and that there’s no stigma there, so that she doesn’t have to unlearn what I had to,” Lupe says. 

“It’s a good look on you,” Jess says. 

“Thank you,” Lupe says. 

“So uh… you don’t introduce girlfriends?” 

“I don’t want her to get used to another person being around until I think that they’re going to stay,” Lupe says. “I think Alma took my breakup worse than I did, honestly… I’ve seen two people casually since Scarlet- the uh, the ex-girlfriend that was a part of Alma’s life- but she hasn’t known about or met them. There’s no one right now, but according to her, I need to be more honest about dating.”

“Well yeah, no shit. To her and me, we’ve got like, ten years of gossip to catch up on!” Jess says. They nudge her foot under the table. Lupe just laughs. 

“I think it’s all old news. Nothing really worth repeating,” Lupe dismisses. 

“I want to learn about all of it,” Jess says. 

“Okay, well if you’re going to ask about my love life, I’m going to ask about yours,” Lupe says. Jess shrugs, a grin on their face. 

“Alright.” 

And so, with the heavy secrets and apologies off their chests, they talk. 

Despite protesting, Lupe tells Jess about her dating experience as an out lesbian, how easy it actually was for her once she was sure of herself and Alma was old enough to be left with a babysitter. She talks about the first girl she dated, who was another single mother in a moms group that ended up leaving her to get back with her ex husband, the second and third who she met during University in different classes, the fourth being Scarlet, who was lovely and beautiful but their paths just weren’t meant to stay together. Lupe ignores the way Jess tenses up when she speaks so fondly of her. 

Jess reveals that the rumours of them dating Dottie Hinson’s bassist during their first tour was true, but not in the way the media portrayed it. They talk about how it started to get harder to date as they got more popular, especially right after Mother’s Daughter came out. People started flirting with them because of the band they were a part of, not who they were, and it was hard to separate the two. They talk about a girl from New York that they never name, who owned the most artist looking loft Jess has ever seen, and how close they got while Peach Fizz wrote their second album in a studio down the street. They don’t talk to her anymore, but apparently there’s still a painting hung up in their apartment. 

More than their dating history, Jess talks about Carson and Greta’s on again, off again disaster of a relationship that still hasn’t quite settled. They talk about how frustrating watching their sexual tension was until they got together, and it was a blissful three months before the fighting started. It apparently fuels a lot of the writing inspiration though, which has taken a distinct turn from their early garage band pop punk sound that Lupe and Jess carefully crafted, instead favouring a more high production synth pop for their two most recent albums. Jess rolls their eyes when they talk about this decision, and Lupe can’t help but laugh at their bluntness. 

They end up ordering a plate of nachos to share as they talk, and the sun sets through the window, casting a warm glow over Jess’s face for a few hours. 

Jess talks about therapy and the time that their van was almost stolen during a show, and their very first official photoshoot for Mother’s Daughter , and how Jess made a fool of themself at the first award show they were invited to. Lupe counters with the way she made a fool of herself at Alma’s very first Christmas concert in preschool because she and Alma were late and didn’t realize the parents were supposed to bring a potluck item for after the party. Jess gossips about celebrities and Lupe has to keep telling them she has no idea who they’re talking about. Lupe counters by gossiping about the lives of people she graduated University with, and Jess is fully invested like they’re in high school again. 

They bounce between stories with ease, and they’re only interrupted when the waiter comes by to cash them out because her shift is ending. They take this as their queue to leave, despite her insistence that they can stay. They pay separately. Neither tries to offer to cover for both of them. Lupe has cash, Jess pays with their card. 

“You still smoke?” Lupe asks. She pulls out her pack and places a cigarette between her lips. Jess nods, and takes one from the pack. Lupe lights hers and then tries to hand the lighter over too. 

“What? You’re not going to light it for me?” Jess teases. Lupe rolls her eyes, shoves her own cigarette between her teeth and leans in close to light Jess’s for them. They’re grinning the entire time. 

“Man,” Jess says. 

“What?” Lupe asks. 

“You’ve got a kid,” they say. “This whole time… Well, I don’t know what I thought.” 

“Yeah,” Lupe says with a small nod. She takes a drag of her cigarette and taps it off absently. There’s no more secrets between them. Not the big one, anyways. Things can never go back to the way it was, Lupe knows this. They’re not kids anymore, they’re completely different people. 

It’s nice though. She can feel the tension, but it’s nice. 

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk with you,” Jess says. 

“I uh, I’m just going to call a taxi,” Lupe says. She puts out her cigarette stub and Jess shakes their head. 

“Still don’t have a car?” Jess asks. 

“I had one for a bit, it got too expensive. I’m… theoretically saving up for one,” she says. Jess laughs. 

“Theoretically,” they echo. 

“Yeah, theoretically,” Lupe says. 

“I can drive you, if you want,” Jess says. 

“Nah, it’s just ten minutes up the road, it’s all good,” Lupe says. 

“All the more reason to do it. C’mon, you can put that taxi money towards your theoretical car,” Jess says. 

Truthfully, Lupe’s not quite ready to say goodnight, so she agrees. They walk back to Jess’s car together, which is a much newer, fancier version of the same car they had when they were twenty, and Lupe gives them directions to her townhouse. It’s a short drive, just like Lupe said it would be, and when Jess parks out in front of the street, they both sit in silence for a minute. 

“Thank you,” Lupe says. 

“Anytime,” Jess replies. 

Lupe unbuckles herself and double checks her things are still in her pockets. Her hand is on the door handle before Jess speaks up again. 

“Listen, um… I want to see you again,” Jess says. 

“Yeah, sure. You’ve got my number. Reach out whenever,” Lupe says. 

“No uh. I want to take you on a date,” Jess says. Lupe hesitates, before she sits back in her seat. She turns to face Jess, the street light illuminating the highlights of their face in the fading light of night. 

“A date?” 

“I want to take you out on a proper date. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I just… I really want to take you somewhere nice. I don’t want to have to do the awkward conversations or the dancing around my feelings again. I… I want you back in my life, and it doesn’t have to be in a sexual way. Fuck, it doesn’t have to be in a romantic way either. We don’t have to go on a date, but I just really want to see you again and I would like it to be a date, but it doesn’t have to be,” Jess rambles. 

Lupe smiles softly. 

“Jess, I really missed you,” Lupe says. 

“But you’re not interested,” Jess finishes. 

“ No. That’s not it. I honestly would love to, but… I just… I don’t want you to come back into my life just to fade out again because you decided after a couple dates you’re not interested like that,” Lupe says. “I know you’re sick of me saying it but I’m not the nineteen year old that shows up in the middle of the night for sex anymore.” 

“And I’m glad you’re not,” Jess says. “Look, I didn’t go into this evening wanting to ask you out. I just wanted to apologize and I was hoping for answers, and I got them, and then I got more, and I want to ask you out, Lupe, not the girl from a decade ago, you .” 

Lupe looks at Jess. It’s impossible to ignore the flutter in her stomach. Old feelings bubble up in her chest, only this time she doesn’t feel guilty about them. 

“Okay. I’d like that,” Lupe says. “On one condition.” 

“Yes?”

“If we decide we’re better as friends, we stay friends,” Lupe says. 

“Okay. Easiest deal of my life,” Jess says. “Does Friday work? I can pick you up at six?”

Lupe thinks about it for a second, before she nods. 

“I can do Friday at six,” she says. 

“Okay, it’s a date,” Jess says. There’s a beat where they both stare at each other, Jess moves in, and as tempting as it is for Lupe, she pulls back. 

“I don’t kiss before the first date,” Lupe says. She winks at Jess as she gets out of the car. Truthfully, she’s a little panicked about it. Which is ridiculous, because it’s just Jess, but it’s also Jess. She shuts the door and starts walking up to her door. 

“I call bullshit on that, Garcia!” Jess calls out. Lupe laughs and gives them a wave, walking backwards for a moment before she spins around and ascends her porch. 

She looks back once more as Jess waits for her to get in. She opens the front door and gives a wave as Jess drives away. 

She can’t help but smile to herself as she shuts the door behind her. 

Chapter Text

Jess sits on a step stool, their leg shaking anxiously as the rest of Peach Fizz waits for Lupe to make her delayed appearance to rehearsal. They were supposed to start at noon, and now the clock is nearing one pm and no one has heard from her. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” Greta says. “This is the third time in the last two weeks she’s done this. I say we just start without her.” 

She sits up from the couch and slams her magazine on the table. Jo and Maybelle both are quick to agree. 

“I’ve got to be out of here by three regardless of when we start, might as well get some practice out of it,” Maybelle says. 

“Once we sign this contract tomorrow, she better smarten up. Seriously, I don’t want us to make fools of ourselves when this tour starts,” Jo says. 

“She stayed at mine last night, she said she had an appointment this morning. I have no clue what’s taking so long, but I doubt it’s intentional,” Jess says. 

It’s hard, because Jess knows that all of their feelings are justified. Still, they can’t help but be mad on behalf of Lupe, even if she’s been flaky as hell since they got the call about touring with Dottie Hinson last month. It’s been whiplash between her only talking about the tour for hours on end to her not wanting to talk about it at all. Not to mention everything else that’s been going on; the mood swings, the disappearing and showing up at random hours of the night, a sudden allergy to going out and having fun but endlessly horny after midnight. 

“Well she could’ve at least let her know she was running late,” Greta says. 

“I’ll try and call her again,” Jess says. They stand up and climb up the stairs of Maybelle’s basement. Behind them, Maybelle starts warming up and the distinct hum of amps begins. 

Jess goes outside and sits down on the porch. They light a cigarette and punch in Lupe’s number, before bringing their phone up to their ear. 

It rings once, then twice, and a third time. Before the fourth ring is up, Lupe rounds the corner and begins walking up Maybelle’s driveway. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie and has her bag slung over her shoulder. Her guitar is nowhere in sight. She looks tired, but she doesn’t look Jess in the eye so they can’t really tell how tired she is. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Jess asks. 

“Can we talk inside?” Lupe says. “I just… With the group.” 

“What’s going on?” Jess asks. Lupe sighs. She stands a little bit straighter and pushes her hair out of her face. Her eyes are bloodshot. 

“Are you high?” Jess asks. 

“No, Jess, I’ve been crying, now can we please go inside?” Lupe snaps. Jess opens their mouth to speak, but Lupe steps around them and goes inside. 

Jess follows Lupe right down to the basement without another word exchanged between the two of them. Jess doesn’t know if they should be annoyed, angry or worried as Lupe makes her presence known to the group. 

“Fucking finally, what the hell Lupe?!” Greta snaps. “You can’t be giving us shit for not rehearsing enough every other week only to stop showing up on time.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Lupe says. Jess moves to stand beside her. Something is definitely going on. Something worse than whatever it’s been that Lupe’s been hiding. They place their hand on the small of Lupe’s back and she flinches away. Jess drops their hand. 

“Well, let’s get started then,” Greta says. She stands behind her microphone and gestures to the room, guiding everyone to their spots. Maybelle’s already sat at the drums, Jo grabs her bass. Jess hesitates before they start to move towards their guitar slowly. Lupe stays at the foot of the stairs. 

“Actually, I have to talk to you guys about something,” Lupe says. She walks cautiously to one of the rickety old dining chairs and sits down, perching on the edge of the seat. Maybelle puts down her drumsticks, and Jo stops playing the vague bass line she had going. 

Lupe takes a deep breath, and when she exhales her voice starts to shake. 

“I don’t want to do the tour,” she says.

“What?!”

“You’re joking.” 

“What the fuck do you mean?!” 

Jess’s objection is the loudest. Lupe closes her eyes. 

“I don’t want to do the tour,” she repeats. “But I don’t want you guys not to do the tour, so I’m leaving the band.” 

“Lupe what the fuck?” Jess says. 

She doesn’t look at any of them. 

“I’ve already talked to Beverly, she said you guys can-”

“What do you mean you already talked to Beverly? Why didn’t you talk to us first?” Greta asks. 

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Maybelle asks. 

“I just… Listen, I have a lot going on right now, and I really don’t think that doing this tour is a good idea for me,” Lupe says. “Like I said, I already talked to Bev, she said you guys can still sign the contract tomorrow, and then when you find a new guitarist, they can sign when they’re hired.” She rubs her hands against her pants. 

“What’s going on, then? Maybe we can help,” Jess says. “The tour is months away, we can figure something out.” 

“It’s not going to be different by the time you guys go on tour. It’s going to be worse, honestly,” Lupe says. 

“Are you sick, Lu?” Maybelle asks. Lupe looks up at her, but her gaze is still avoiding Jess. Jess crosses their arms over their chest and watches the interaction. 

“No, it’s not that,” she says. 

“Then what is it?” Greta presses. 

Lupe’s lips part, and she looks like she’s going to start crying again. It looks like she’s going to say something, but then she stops herself. 

“I just… I don’t… I’ve got a lot going on,” she says. “I think it’s better if I focus on myself than music right now, and I think this is the best way to do it.” 

“Bullshit,” Jess spits. 

“Jess-” 

“No! Bullshit! What is it? What’s going on? There is literally nothing that can rip you away from music. There is no one in this room that has talked more about how excited they are about the idea of this tour over the last month than you, so what the fuck is going on?” Jess says. “Is it your mom?” 

“Why is it always my mom with you?!” Lupe asks. “She lives in Texas! My mom doesn't have that much power over me.” 

“She has in the past!” Jess snaps. 

“Like when?” 

“When we first started the band, when you told her you weren’t going to church in LA, when you didn’t call on her birthday, when she’s tried to set you up on blind date with men when you don’t even want to go on these dates but you do anyways even though she’s in fucking Texas .” Jess holds up a finger for every point they make. “You don’t even fucking like men and somehow she seems to make your world revolve around them! She says one thing and suddenly you're brainwashed for the week!” 

Lupe is silent, her gaze snaps to Jess for the first time. Jess stands a little bit straighter, the flicker of flame in Lupe’s eyes giving them a warning sign. Her nostrils flair. 

“The fuck does that mean, Jess?” Lupe asks. 

“Oh, come on,” Jess says. “You’ve never been happy with her meddling!” 

“No, I haven’t, but she doesn’t brainwash me,” Lupe says sternly. 

“Every time you’ve gone on a date, it was because she wanted you to,” Jess says. 

“This has nothing to do with my dating life! Jesus, I don’t have a dating life!” Lupe snaps. 

“Then what am I?” Jess asks. “Because you’ve spent more nights at my apartment than your own for the last month, and you don’t stay on my couch.” 

Lupe looks over at the rest of the group. She crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Wait are you two-”

“No,” Lupe cuts Greta off. “No, we’re not. We never were.” 

“So what? I’m just a friend you cook dinner for and fuck?” Jess asks. Lupe glares at them. 

“This has nothing to do with us. You’re making it about you to be a bitch,” Lupe snaps. “You want to make it about you when it’s not, and the fact that you’re airing out my dirty laundry in front of our friends proves it.” 

“Well I have to! You won’t tell me shit! You don’t tell any of us shit, apparently!” 

“Because it’s none of your business!” Lupe yells. “And my sexuality is no one's business!” 

“You make it my business every fucking time you show up to my apartment!” Jess snaps. 

“Can we all please calm down!” Greta says. She’s standing between the two of them now. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if you two are just shouting at each other. Can we just take a step back and start from the beginning again?”

“I’m leaving the band,” Lupe says. “My decision is final. I am doing what I have to do, and the least I can ask for is your support in doing it.” 

“I’m not going to be able to do that without a reason,” Jess says bluntly. 

“I need to focus on myself,” Lupe repeats. 

“Not good enough,” Jess says. “You’d have to be dying for you to let this slip out of your fingers.” 

“Why do you keep assuming that?” Lupe asks. 

“Because it’s true!” Jess says with a bitter laugh. 

“Fine. Do you want the real reason?” Lupe says. Jess nods, because obviously they do. They can feel the blood rushing to their face in anger. They cross their arms over their chest. Jo, Greta and Maybelle watch expectantly. 

“I don’t want to sign the contract. I want to make it as an independent artist, and I don’t like the contract that would come with the tour,” Lupe says. “Doing the tour means signing to Dottie’s record label without guarantee of an album. They would have distribution rights for five years, and they only want to record our album if the response is good enough on tour, and I don’t want that.” 

“Bev said that’s just a formality. They want to sign us,” Greta says. 

“Maybe that’s true! Or maybe they’re telling us that so that we’re just more willing to sign,” Lupe says. 

“But between that, and… some… other personal things… I think I’d rather step away now before I’ve committed to anything,” Lupe says. 

“What’s going on?” Maybelle asks. 

“It’s nothing that bad it’s just- it’ll be easier to focus on it without worrying about a tour,” Lupe says. She’s making a point not to look at Jess as she speaks, despite the fact that Jess is watching her like a hawk. Jess knows she’s lying, something's not adding up, and Jess knows that Lupe knows that if she looks at Jess, they’ll be able to read her like a book. 

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m okay, I’m just trying to figure some things out, but I’ve made up my mind,” Lupe says. “I’m sorry this is so last minute and out of nowhere, but it was not a decision I made easily. I love you guys.” 

Lupe looks around at the group. No one says anything right away, but Maybelle walks over and gives Lupe a tight hug, which she returns. Maybelle whispers something in her ear and Lupe nods subtly into her shoulder before the two pull apart. 

“I’m going to go now,” Lupe says.

She turns around without another word and ascends the stairs. No one moves until the door clicks shut. 

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Jess says. They take two strides towards the stairs before Maybelle grabs their arm. 

“After what you said, I don’t think you should, honey,” Maybelle says. “I think I’m the only one who didn’t upset her. I’ll go talk to her.” 

“Well she gave us all a reason to be upset,” Jo says. “How the hell are we supposed to find a new guitarist this quickly?”

“We’ve got time,” Greta says. 

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Jess says. 

“Yeah, because she didn’t state that her decision was final enough times to get the point across,” Greta says sarcastically. 

“Well I’m going to at least make sure she’s okay,” Maybelle says. “She’s still our friend, we can be upset and worried at the same time.”

She flies up the stairs after Lupe, and it takes everything in Jess not to follow her. They’ll get their chance to talk to her tonight, surely. There’s no way Lupe won’t come over, she’s got basically everything over at Jess’s place. 

Jess sits on their chair, arms crossed and staring straight ahead. After a moment, Jo goes back to her bass and Greta busies herself with something in the corner. There’s idle conversation between the two, but Jess doesn’t pay attention to any of it. They just want to go run after Maybelle and Lupe. Chances are the two of them are just outside on the porch. The idea of them talking about this without Jess (or all of them, really) had their skin crawling. There is no way they’ll be able to focus enough to practice efficiently. 

After what feels like an eternity, Maybelle finally comes back downstairs alone. She sighs, and Greta and Jo are quick to ask what she said. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with her, she kept repeating the same thing over and over again- she’s made her decision, she’s leaving the band, nothing will change that,” Maybelle says. “She cried a lot though. I’m usually good with crying- that was hard.” 

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Jess says. They stand up and shove their guitar in its case. 

“Jess…” 

“What? That’s my best friend. If someone’s going to get the truth, it’s going to be me,” Jess says. 

Maybelle glances at the other two, before her face softens and she steps in front of Jess. She offers a small smile, and then just hugs Jess. They furrow their eyebrows and hesitantly hug her back, before shoving her away lightly. 

“What?”

“I think she needs time,” Maybelle says. “Give her the night, talk to her in the morning! She’s got a lot of emotions flared up right now, give her some time to recover.” 

“Did she say something to you?” Jess asks. 

“No,” Maybelle says, almost too quickly. 

“She did! What did she say?” Jess says. Maybelle shakes her head. 

“She said nothing! Like I said, she just kept blabbering about the same thing in the same loop! She said nothing to me, but even if she did, it is not my information to give!” Maybelle says. “You have to respect that, for both of us.” 

Jess takes a deep breath. 

“Fine, but there’s no way I can rehearse today. We can reschedule,” Jess says. With all five of us. 

“You know what? Agreed,” Greta says. “Tomorrow, after our meeting?” she suggests. 

“Let’s do Thursday,” Jo says instead. “Give Garcia a few days to clear her head and decide what she’s doing.” 

“She’s decided, guys,” Maybelle says. 

Jess glares at her. She knows something and won’t tell Jess.  

That night, Jess tries to call Lupe. 

The call goes to voicemail. 

They try again after a few minutes. 

It goes to voicemail. 

Jess calls twice more over the next hour before they decide fuck it and they drive across town to go to Lupe’s apartment. 

They debate if they should bring something for her, but ultimately they go over empty handed. It works out anyway, because her windows are dark. 

Jess tries the buzzer anyways. 

They wait almost ten minutes, periodically buzzing the intercom again before they finally give up. They sit on the edge of the apartment steps and smoke a cigarette, just in case Lupe ends up coming home in the next few minutes. They know they can’t hover forever, but they have to talk to Lupe as soon as possible. They need to know what’s going on so they can fix it together like they should be. 

They get back in their car and they hover again, watching the sidewalk like a hawk until they decide they have to go home. Maybe Lupe is waiting at their apartment, curled up on the couch already with a sitcom on and tea in her hands, waiting to apologize. 

That’s not the case when they get home though. 

Instead, they’re greeted to darkness and a voicemail on their machine from an unknown number. 

“ Hey Jess… It’s Lu. I don’t think I have to apologize for today, but I do want to say that I hear you, and I understand you…” She sighs shakily. She’s still crying. “ Listen, it is partially my mom, but it’s not for the reason you think. Please trust me that I’ll tell you when I’m ready, I’m just still figuring some things out… No matter what though, I promise I am not making this decision lightly. Leaving the band is what I want to do, even if it breaks my heart doing it. I don’t want you to try and change my mind. I’ll reach out when I’m ready, but just… I just need space, okay? I need a few days, and then I’ll tell you everything. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you over the last month, it wasn’t fair. I understand why you used that as ammo, but it still hurts. I get it though, I do. We can talk about that too… later… I lo- I care about you, a lot, I don’t want this decision to end… whatever we are. I just, I don’t know if all of this is meant to be. Altogether, I mean. You, me, the band… I don’t know what I’m rambling on about. Please sign the contract tomorrow. You’re going to do fucking wonders.” There’s another deep breath. “ Okay, bye.” 

Jess doesn’t get another call the next morning. They try to call her one more time before leaving, but it goes to voicemail after ringing for an eternity. After sitting at the kitchen table, just staring at the telephone as they sip their coffee, Jess makes the decision to leave half an hour early to get their mind off of it. 

They pick up another coffee at a local shop and a reheated breakfast sandwich that is… fine. It’s fine. The coffee is fine. The taste slides down their throat without much processing. There’s nothing noteworthy about the cafe. They’ve never been here before, they don’t know if they’ll come again. It’s nice enough, they suppose. 

They pick Jo up first, then the two of them head four blocks down to pick up Greta. Maybelle’s meeting them at Beverly's office. The air is tense for Jess, but Jo and Greta fall into happy, easy conversation. Jess grips the steering wheel, Jo turns the radio down to just over a whisper. Jess ends up turning it off entirely. 

Maybelle’s baby blue convertible is already in the parking lot, so Jess pulls in next to her and the three of them head in together. 

Maybelle is already waiting in the meeting room with Beverly, chatting happily about whatever they’re talking about. Beverly gets up to greet the other three as they file in. Jess just offers a small smile before they drape their denim jacket across the back of a chair and take a seat. 

They’ve already had meetings with lawyers and looked over everything, negotiated some things and caved on others; all of which Lupe was here for. She argued the most about the clarity over whether or not they would actually get to record an album after the tour, since the contract also stated that they couldn’t record under anyone else for five years after the tour concludes. She was always there first, often talking to Beverly or the representative from Home Run Records, discussing salaries or timelines or genre expectations. Lupe thought of everything and was the reason why this stupid signing took so long in the first place. 

It’s why Jess can’t wrap their hand around what the fuck happened that made her want to drop everything so suddenly without explaining anything to them. Now that they’re sitting here though, her push back to actually signing it makes sense too. 

Maybe she does hate the idea of signing her music away without a guarantee of getting to record it- even if it’s just a formality. It just doesn’t make sense that she would push so hard to get signed to a label, only to get cold feet once one of their dream labels reach out with a tour and a record deal. 

Jess slouches down in their chair and crosses their arms. Greta and Maybelle are sat side by side, sitting nice and straight with their hair styled and tops perfectly coordinating even though Jess is sure that they didn’t plan it. Jo sits beside Jess, leaving two seats for the representatives who join them a few minutes later on the other side of the table. 

All and all, it’s a quick meeting. They’ve all worked out the kinks. They just have to sign. 

Ultimately, it’s really anticlimactic. 

Jess wants to be shaking with excitement. They want to jump and feel the need to hug someone. Instead, they keep their gaze on the contract in front of them and sign on the lines in the same chicken scratch signature. 

There’s a round of thank you s and we look forward to hearing more soon and excited to hear more of the music in rehearsals . 

They have to find a new guitarist before they can really start rehearsals. They’ve been told they can rent out one of the studios at Home Run for auditions, and that they’ll help with advertising for it. It’s still something they don’t want to talk about

“I’ll call them when they open and see when they can make it work, then we can make some posters and hang them up,” Greta says. 

“What about the list of guitarists Mitch said he’d forward us?” Jo asks. 

“Well, invite them to the audition obviously, but you never know who can wander off the streets,” Greta says. “I have full faith that we’ll find someone. Do you think two weeks is enough notice time?” 

“I think so!” Maybelle says. “I have a couple friends I can ask about guitarists too.” 

“We don’t need to get another full time member,” Jess says. They can’t believe that they’re so ready to just hire someone new. Sure, they need to start rehearsing, but it’s been less than twenty four hours. 

“What do you mean?” Greta asks. 

“Well, we can just hire a guitarist for the tour. I can record both parts. Lots of bands do it,” Jess says. “Why do we need to add someone permanently?” 

“It’s better consistency,” Greta says, like she’s already thought about it. 

“I just don’t think it’s right to fill Lupe’s spot this quickly,” Jess says. 

“She made her choice. She said she’s not changing her mind,” Greta says simply. “Her decisions are not my responsibility. My responsibility is creating a band that kicks ass and sounds amazing, and I think we can all agree that having another permanent member is going to be the best way to do it.” 

“She might change her mind though,” Jess says. 

“She’s not going to, Jess. I’m telling ya, she’s made her mind up,” Maybelle says in what’s supposed to be a reassuring tone, but really just pisses Jess off. It feels condescending. 

Jess inhales sharply. Greta rolls her eyes and gets up. 

“I don’t want to think about this today,” she says as if she wasn’t just talking about calling the studio and making fucking posters. “I think we should go celebrate with brunch and mimosas, and we can deal with the technical shit later. We just booked our first tour!” 

She’s trying to get everyone to squeal in excitement with her, but instead she just gets two somewhat excited cheers. Jo and Maybelle move to get up. 

“I think that is a wonderful idea for you four. You still have lots of time before June, you already have so much amazing music, you sound great no matter what, so just go celebrate!” Beverly says.

“Glad to get your approval, Bev. See you!” Greta says. 

“Love ya!” Maybelle chimes in. 

“Are you coming, Jess?” Jo asks. 

“I have to drive you all,” they point out. Maybelle’s car only has two seats. “I’ll be down in a second.” 

“Sounds good,” Jo says. She files out with Maybelle and Greta. Jess waits in their chair until they hear the footsteps disappear down the hall. 

“Jess, if you’re asking me about Lupe, I can’t tell you anything,” Beverly says before Jess even looks in her direction. 

“But you know things?” Jess asks. 

Beverly hesitates. It’s enough that they know she does. 

“Is she okay? She won’t tell me shit,” Jess says. 

“She’s fine,” Beverly says. 

“So why won’t she tell me?” Jess asks. 

“I don’t know, Jess, but she and I had long conversations about her decision, she made sure that her decision wouldn’t negatively impact the rest of you when she did,” Beverly says. “When did she tell you three?”

“That she wanted to leave the band? Yesterday morning,” Jess says. “When did she tell you? ”

“Two weeks ago,” Beverly says. “But we’ve been talking for the last month at least, pretty much since the tour discussion started. I didn’t know she wasn’t openly communicating with the rest of you throughout the process until she gave me her final decision.” 

“The last month? ” 

What the hell was Lupe doing to Jess then? She spent the whole month getting closer and talking about the band as if nothing was wrong. She spent almost every night in Jess’s bed and aside from the exponential amount of sex and intimacy, nothing else had changed. Lupe said she didn’t want to stop whatever they were , but she spent the last month lying to their face about the band? They didn’t get it.

Lupe was always so quick to come to them when something was wrong. Jess knew something was off but wrong? They really didn’t know yet. 

“Like I said, I didn’t know she wasn’t talking to you guys. She told me three separate times that she planned on saying something,” Beverly said. 

Jess nods. 

“I just don’t understand,” Jess says. 

“I know. It’s never fun when your band's dynamics shift, but try not to think of this as a betrayal or as a goodbye. It’s just a new chapter,” Beverly says. 

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks.” 

Jess gets up and shrugs on their jacket. Beverly sighs softly. She follows Jess to the door and opens it for them, before they give a half hearted goodbye and follows after the rest of their band. 

That night, Jess tries to call again. 

Lupe sends them straight to voicemail. 

Chapter Text

Lupe is elbow deep in the sink, soapy water drying out her hands as she scrubs the dishes that have accumulated over the last two days, when her phone starts ringing in her back pocket. Normally, she lets it go to voicemail, but instead she quickly towels off her hands and grabs it. 

It’s been three days, but Jess’s name popping up on her phone screen is quickly becoming a regular and welcomed sight. They haven’t seen each other since Monday but Jess has called her every night this week so far. She’s not nervous for their date, but getting to talk to them more before tomorrow night definitely makes it easier. The date isn’t the hard part- she’s worried about the aftermath. 

Jess texted her Tuesday afternoon asking about Lupe’s day, which turned into a call as Jess restrung a guitar, which turned into calling each other after dinner the night after and well… now the night after that . 

“I think I should get to sign a contract saying no glitter for photos ever ,” Jess says before Lupe can even say hello. She smiles and sets her phone on the window ledge. 

“That bad?” Lupe asks. 

“So fucking bad. I don’t even understand why we need to do a photoshoot for a post tour interview . Fuck, there are so many good photos from the tour to use. The makeup artist put so much shit on me, I’ve washed it three times and I still feel sticky,” Jess says. “On the bright side, I have quite literally nothing scheduled for the next month.” 

Lupe smiles softly as her hands plunge back into the soapy water. Her dishwasher has been broken since she bought the place, but it’s never occurred to her to actually fix it. It would be an easy afternoon task, but there’s something calming about doing the dishes herself that she doesn’t mind. 

“I’ll have to look at my schedule once I’m done with my dishes,” Lupe says. “After tomorrow, I won’t be able to do anything else until after Wednesday…” 

“Are you saying I’m going to book multiple dates in advance?” Jess huffs. 

She doesn’t even mean to imply that there’d be a second date, or any others after that. 

“That desperate to see me?” Lupe says. Jess lets out a small laugh.

“Always. How was work?” Jess asks. 

“Well, I’m not peeling glitter off my skin, so I think it was better than yours,” Lupe says. “Had to fire a customer today though, so that was fun.” 

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Jess says. 

“Well, most people don’t, but he was being an asshole to my bartender, and I don’t fuck with that kind of shit,” Lupe says. “Oh shoot, I don’t mess with that kind of… stuff.” 

“Kid around?” Jess asks. 

“Living room. Not like she doesn’t hear me curse constantly but… you know,” Lupe says, her voice a little quieter now. “Anyways, he’s been a problem for staff a few times, and I was finally in the bar when he started kicking up a fit, so I told him to get out and that he wasn’t welcome anymore. Max was joking we should put up a wall of shame in the back.” 

“I think you should,” Jess says. “It would be funny.” 

“I’m not taking photos of strangers to put on a wall,” Lupe says. “It’s… weird.” 

“Have someone make really shitty police sketches,” Jess suggests. “With a ballpoint pen on a napkin.” 

“Now that is something I can get behind,” Lupe laughs. She washes the last dirty bowl and moves on to the cutlery. 

“I’ll fund it, if you want,” Jess says. 

“I can buy a corkboard, I’m sure it’s in the budget,” Lupe says. “But thank you.”

“How much longer are you doing the event organizing?” Jess asks. 

“Ana comes back in three and a half weeks,” Lupe says. “And for the record, it’s mostly just the social media. I’m doing the open mics too, I guess, but she coordinated all the event organizing things before she left. Which- thank god, because I wouldn’t have the energy for hosting trivia night too.” 

Lupe shudders at the thought. 

“I like trivia,” Jess says. 

“Well, every Monday,” Lupe says. “I think next week's theme is 80s films.” 

“I think we’d kill it,” Jess says. 

“I can’t participate. Conflict of interest,” Lupe says. 

“Oh that’s a total lie, you just don’t want to participate,” Jess says. 

“Maybe so…” 

Lupe finishes the dishes and pulls the plug. She wipes down the counter and dries her hands before she grabs her phone and takes Jess off of the speaker phone. 

“Give me a second, I’m just going to go to my office,” Lupe says. 

As she passes the door to the living room, Lupe stops for a moment to see what Alma is watching. It’s some kids show about wizards- she’s seen her watch it before- and this time, it looks like one of the teenagers has brought a mannequin and a barbie doll to life. 

“Hey Lobito, screen time is over in half an hour,” Lupe says. 

“I know!” 

“ Lobito, ” Jess echoes on the other end of the line affectionately. 

“Do you want a nickname too?” Lupe asks. 

“Maybe, if you say it with the same amount of adoration,” Jess says. 

Lupe walks down to the hall to her office. She leaves the door open, sits down at her desk and flips open her laptop. She puts Jess back on speaker phone and sets the phone down. 

“What are we doing tomorrow anyways?” Lupe asks. 

“It’s a surprise,” Jess says. 

“You’re taking me on a surprise date?” Lupe asks. 

“Well we’ve already done all the important things,” Jess says. “We’ve never been on a cheesy date though, and if this is my second chance with you, I’m doing the cheesy first date.” 

“Can you at least tell me what to wear?” Lupe asks. 

“Just dress like you,” Jess says. 

“I look forward to it,” Lupe says. “I look forward to seeing you.” 

“Me too,” Jess says. “Is the rest of your week really booked up until Thursday?” 

“Pretty much. I have chores to do Saturday, a dinner on Sunday with my neighbours, meetings Monday, a dinner with another business owner Tuesday, and the open mic Wednesday. Then a bunch of shit earlier in the days too, but it’s nothing interesting,” Lupe says. 

“Chores and business meetings sound riveting,” Jess says. 

“You should come to the open mic. You don’t have to play, but it’s nice to have you there,” Lupe says. 

“You won’t feel weird about it?”

“Why would I?” Lupe asks. If anything, it’ll make her less freaked out at the idea of their date if they have something planned afterwards. She shouldn’t be nervous. It’s just Jess . There’s no reason why it wouldn’t work out. 

There’s no reason why it should either. 

“I’ll see how I feel,” Jess decides. “It’s tempting, but if you don’t let me kiss you after our first date, I might just have to wait.” 

“And why’s that?”

“Because I can barely handle the idea of looking at you without getting my hands up your shirt,” Jess says. Lupe glances down the hall, before she picks up her phone and presses it up to her ear. 

“Oh really?” 

“Mmhm… You don’t know how relieved I was when you said you weren’t seeing anyone,” Jess says. “I never stopped staring at that open mic… And a part of me wishes that the drinks ended a little bit differently but… Looking at you makes me feel nineteen again… I didn’t realize how much I missed it- missed you until you were staring right back at me.” 

“I missed you too,” Lupe says, dropping the volume of her voice. 

“Do you still miss me?” Jess asks. 

“Course I do,” Lupe says. 

“Do you miss… being nineteen?” 

“Fuck no,” Lupe laughs. “I wouldn’t go back for anything.”

“No? Not even my touch?” Jess asks. “The way I used to when you’d come over after eleven unannounced… Practically going straight to the bedroom.” 

“I don’t have to go back in time for that though,”  Lupe says. “And as much as I would love to entertain whatever fire your dirty little mind is trying to ignite, I have bed time responsibilities to do.” 

“You could call me tonight afterwards?” Jess suggests. Lupe chews on the inside of her lip. 

“I make no promises,” Lupe says, but there’s a smile creeping up from the corner of her mouth. 

“At least text me if you’re not,” Jess says. 

“Okay, I’ll let you know if I want to have phone sex later tonight,” Lupe teases. “Goodbye, Jess.” 

“Until tonight, Lu.” 

Lupe lets out a sigh of relief as she walks up the front steps of her porch. Today was long, but now she just needs to put the lasagna in the oven and get ready for her date. She has no reason to be nervous, she knows it's going to be fine, and she’s never actually been nervous for a date before. This time, there’s actually stakes though. It’s not a date with a stranger that she can just forget about if it goes south. 

She unlocks the front door and hangs her jacket up in the porch. Esti and Alma are walking home from school now. She has two hours, which is plenty of time to make dinner and get ready. 

She jumps into the shower and rinses off the day's sweat and grime, lingering under the heat for a few extra minutes. Then, she dries off quickly and adds a bit of extra product to her hair, applying deodorant and cologne before she quickly moves to her room to get dressed. 

She figures it’ll be easier to get ready before making dinner than after. She’s dressed and down in the kitchen before Alma gets home with Esti. She turns on the oven and starts preheating it in between fixing her hair for a second time in the hallway mirror and switching her things over from the pockets of one jacket to another. 

Lupe had the sense to pick up something easy to put in the oven for dinner. Esti knows how to cook, and she likes doing it, but Lupe doesn’t want to make her do it so many times throughout the week. She already feels guilty for asking Esti to babysit for a fourth evening this week, the least she can do is take some of the work out of it.  

As Lupe is pulling out the lasagna from the freezer, the door swings open and slams shut again. She barely has time to react before Alma storms up to her bedroom and slams the door upstairs in a similar manner. Lupe’s eyes go wide as she rounds the hallway, just in time for Esti to reopen the door cautiously. 

“What happened?” Lupe asks. Esti shrugs. 

“She would not talk to me the whole walk home,” Esti says. “She was sat on the park bench instead of playing with her friends like she usually is when I walk by her school. She stormed off in front of me and when I asked, she said nothing.” 

“Okay… I’ll go talk to her,” Lupe says. “You don’t need to stay, if you don’t want to. I can call you when my ride gets here.” 

“Thank you.” 

Esti offers a small, hopeful smile before she carefully slips out the front door again. Lupe glances at the time on her watch, and then makes her way up the stairs quietly. She listens at the door for a moment, before she knocks softly.

“Alma, can I please come in?”

“No! Go away!” she screams. Lupe sighs. 

“I can’t do that, Lobito. I just want to talk, and help if I can,” Lupe says. 

She’s quiet on the other side of the door for a few seconds before Lupe hears the bed creek. 

“I need to scream, and then I will come downstairs,” she says. 

“Okay. I’ll wait downstairs,” Lupe says. Lupe waits a moment, before she realizes that Alma is probably listening up against the other side of the door, so she respects her daughter’s request and goes downstairs. She’s barely down the flight of stairs when she hears a scream muffled by a pillow. 

Instead of going to the living room, she moves into the kitchen and makes Alma a shirley temple. She doesn’t normally let Alma have any fancy drinks until after dinner, but for some reason it's the first thing she can think of to keep herself busy. She slices up a few pieces of cheese and sets it on a small plate with some crackers, and then she sets them at the table in Alma’s spot. By the time she’s done that, Alma is coming down the stairs. 

Lupe sits down at the table and waits for Alma to find her. She pauses in the doorway, before she moves to her seat at the table and sits down. Her face is flushed and her eyes are bloodshot. It looks like she tried to wash the tears away from her face, but it hasn’t done anything to hide the tear stains on her pink shirt. 

Alma grabs a cracker and snaps it in half. 

“I am upset,” she says. 

Lupe nods. 

“Okay, what happened?”

Alma sniffs, and wipes at her nose before she snaps another cracker into two pieces, this time stabbing them into the slices of cheese. 

“I hate my friends,” Alma says bluntly. “All of them, I hate them all.” 

“Hate is a really strong word, Alma. Did they do something?” Lupe asks. 

“We all talked about wanting to see Spider-Man, and I thought we were all going to go together, but today I got to school and Heather, Lily and Maya were talking about the movie and then they went all quiet when I came over,” Alma says. “And then I heard them at recess t-talking about it again, and all their moms planned a sleepover for tomorrow for them all to see it! With Abigail and Taylor too, they just didn’t want me to know.” 

Lupe frowns. She can remember Alma bringing up the new Spider-Man movie to her last week, but never any mentions of plans being made. If she had known, she would’ve reached out to one of the moms. 

“Do you think they purposely excluded you?” Lupe asks. Alma nods. 

“They didn’t want me to hear about it at all ,” Alma says. “All of my friends, without me! Do you know how bad that makes me feel?” 

“I do, baby, that really sucks,” Lupe says. 

“And now I hate all of them, because they all hate me,” Alma says. “And now I have to go to school on Monday and they’ll all be talking about it and I won’t get to see it! We all said we wanted to go together.” 

“Okay, maybe we’re missing some of the important information,” Lupe says. “Is it worth wanting to throw all your friends away because of one misunderstanding?”

“If they don’t want me around, why shouldn’t I?” Alma asks. “They hate me, Mom, that’s the only reason!” 

“I don’t think it is though,” Lupe says. “They didn’t look like they hated you when I picked you up from the park yesterday. They didn’t look like they hated you when they were all over for your birthday. Maybe Heather’s mom told her she could only invite five friends. Now, that doesn’t mean that your feelings aren’t valid. You’re allowed to be upset that your friends are having a sleepover without you and seeing the movie you really want to, but I don’t think they excluded you to be mean to you, or because they hate you, there’s probably another reason,” Lupe says. 

Alma shrugs. 

“It makes me feel really bad,” she says. 

“I know, baby. Do you want me to call Heather’s mom and see if you can come?” Lupe asks. 

“No! No no no! That’s worse . That’s so embarrassing trying to have your mom ask if you can come to a party you weren’t invited to,” Alma says. “It just… really sucks, I guess.” 

“I know,” Lupe says. The oven beeps to remind her that it’s done preheating again, and she glances at it, and then the time on the microwave above it. 

“Do you want to go see Spider-Man with me?” Lupe asks. Alma sniffles. 

“I wanted to see it with my friends,” she says. 

“I know I’m not as cool as your friends, but maybe we make it a little mother, daughter date?” she suggests. 

Alma smiles. 

“Tonight?” Alma asks. 

Lupe doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Do you want to go tonight?” Lupe asks. 

Selfishly, she wants Alma to say no. She wants Alma to want to stay home with Esti so the two of them can keep watching through Lupe’s old collection of Buffy DVDs. 

Alma seems to consider this, and then her smile drops. 

“What about your friend?” she asks. 

“They’ll understand,” Lupe says. “We can always reschedule. If you’re sad, and going out for dinner and watching Spider-Man will make you happy, I would much rather do that anyways.” 

“Okay… I would like that,” she says. Lupe smiles. 

“Okay. I’m just going to call my friend and let them know. In the meantime, try and think of where you want to go for dinner, okay?” Lupe says. Alma nods. 

“Okay, mama.” 

Lupe gets up, and as she passes Alma, she kisses her on the top of the head. Alma wipes away the last of her tears and then sips at her drink. Lupe shuts off the oven and puts the lasagna back in the freezer before she goes into her office. She shuts the door behind her, and sinks down into her chair. 

She closes her eyes for a moment, running her hand down her face as she collapses backwards. She takes a second to gather her thoughts, and then hits Jess’s name from the recents section of her contacts. An hour and a half. How the hell is she supposed to shut Jess down so last minute?

Jess picks up on the second ring. 

“Hey there. Couldn’t wait to see me or something?” Jess teases. 

“Hey…Actually.  Listen I uh, I hate to do this but can we reschedule?” Lupe says. She can almost hear the way Jess’s smile deflates on the other side of the phone. 

“Is everything okay?” Jess asks. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just- Alma’s friends are having a party without her tomorrow, and she’s really upset. I want to spend the evening with her and make sure she’s okay. I’ve already left her with the babysitter more than I normally do this week and I just… I gotta take care of my baby,” Lupe says. Jess takes a deep breath. 

“It’s okay, Lu, I get it,” Jess says, but they do an awful job at hiding the disappointment in their voice. Lupe stares up at her ceiling. 

“I feel like shit doing this to you,” Lupe says. 

“I said I get it,” Jess repeats, this time a little bit softer. “Your daughter has to come first. I know you’re not doing this because you want to.” 

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Lupe says. 

“Just make sure we reschedule this. I can move the reservation,” Jess says. 

“Fuck. You made a reservation?” Lupe says. 

“It’s not a big deal. I can move it, promise,” Jess says. “Call me tonight, okay?” 

“I will, I promise,” Lupe says. 

“Have fun with Alma.”

“Goodnight.” 

Jess hangs up the phone, and Lupe sits there for a moment. It’s what she has to do, and that’s okay. Jess understands, she tells herself. Jess isn’t angry. Disappointed, maybe, but Lupe is too. They’ll get their chance to reschedule it though. Lupe’ll find time tonight, once they get back. 

She gets up and returns to the kitchen, but Alma has migrated to the living room, leaving her dishes at the kitchen table. She doesn’t have a show on, but she’s curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket wrapped around her. 

“Alright, just let me change and we’ll head out. Did you think of what you want to do for dinner?” Lupe asks. Alma nods. 

“Pizza?” 

“Sure.” 

Lupe calls for the uber and by time she’s changed into a much more casual t-shirt and jeans, it’s waiting out front for the two of them. 

Lupe does her best to keep Alma’s mind off her friends while they wait for their food. She asks about school and her projects, her music class. She asks Alma about the previous Spider-Man movies, even though she’s seen them enough times while rewatching them with Alma that she has most of them memorized. She doesn’t engage as much to start, but as the conversation goes on, Alma starts to talk about her theories about what’s going to happen in the movie, which turns into her talking about a Barbie movie that follows a similar plot and slowly but surely, she can see the weight lift from Alma’s shoulders. 

They each get individual pizzas and they share a salad, but Lupe negotiates with Alma that they can get drinks at the movies if they keep to water at the restaurant. That doesn’t stop Alma from wearing her down enough to order dessert before they go though. 

They make their way for one of the later shows of Spider-Man, which excites Alma because by time it ends, it’ll be long past her bedtime. Lupe already knows that it’s going to make tomorrow morning a little harder for the both of them, but she’s willing to push that aside for now. 

Lupe nudges her lightly before the lights go down. She has her phone pulled out. Alma groans, but she ultimately curls right next to Lupe and smiles big for the photo. When Lupe looks back at the photo, both their smiles are genuine. 

The lights go down as the last few trailers begin to play. Lupe taps Jess’ name in her phone and hovers over the photo icon on their texts. Then, in a series of quick taps, she sends the photo without a caption. Jess replies with a series of spider themed emojis. Lupe puts her phone away, and settles in for the movie. 

They reschedule their date for the following Thursday, because they can’t make anything work sooner. The nightly calls are starting to get tortuous, but Lupe can’t help but pick them up every time she sees the phone ring. They talk, and Lupe forces them to keep just talking, even when one of them starts to drift a little bit into dangerous territory. 

It’s Wednesday before the open mic, and Lupe is hidden away in her office in the basement. She’s sipping tea while skimming emails and replying to them. She has another hour before she has to start setting things up, so she’s taking her sweet time keeping busy. 

Her phone rings, but she finishes her thought on the computer before she turns away to get it. 

“Lupe Garcia speaking,” she says. 

“Is that the business tone?” Jess asks on the other end. Lupe relaxes a little bit. 

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else. I’ve been waiting for a few places to call me back,” Lupe says. She leans back in her chair. “Can I call you when I’m off work?” 

“Actually, I uh, I wanted to ask you something about tomorrow…” Jess starts. 

Lupe sits up a little straighter. 

“Okay…”

“Okay so. It’s my turn to be an asshole… But Alice Skeeter is in town for a few days and she asked me if I’d be interested in coming into the studio tomorrow and Friday to try and write a couple songs and this is… She is so fucking cool and I don’t want to say no,” Jess says. 

Lupe chews on her lower lip. 

“So you want to reschedule?” Lupe asks. 

“This would be a really great opportunity for me, Lu. If someone else wants to write with me… I mean I haven’t been able to write shit I actually like since I was writing with you. Not with the intent of putting it on an album, anyways,” Jess says. 

Lupe feels a jolt in her chest. She stays quiet, staring absently at the wall in front of her. Ten seconds ago, she was fine with the idea of rescheduling, now it makes her uneasy in her chest. 

“It’s fine,” Lupe says. She looks at her schedule. “Uh, does Saturday night work for you?” 

“That soon? You’re not going to make me wait another week?” Jess teases. 

“You’re just lucky I had it open,” Lupe says. 

“Thank you, I promise I’m going to make it worth the wait,” Jess says. Lupe forces a small smile, even though they can’t see it. 

“I’ll see you Saturday,” Lupe says. 

“Call me tonight?” Jess asks. 

“I’ll have to see what time open mic wraps up,” Lupe says. 

She doesn’t call Jess that evening, even though she’s home by ten thirty. There’s a weight pressing down on her chest, even as she lays in her bed staring up at the ceiling. It’s similar to the way she felt when Peach Fizz left for tour, and Lupe was left alone with a baby, not that any of them knew that. The weight only grew as she heard about everything that was happening, all the things she was missing out on. 

This is similar. 

This is normal for Jess, even though they were clearly excited to get to work with this other musician (who is apparently a Canadian folk singer- Lupe had to google her), this is something they just gets to do.They have connections in the larger scale of the industry because of their level of status. Peach Fizz hit the ground running and then they kept running and every time they’d hit a finish line, they could already see the next one in sight. It was crazy how much they’d exploded as a band in between their first and second album release, and Lupe watched it from the sidelines the entire time. 

She’s always going to be watching from the sidelines. 

Lupe sighs in frustration as she hangs up the phone. She doesn’t want to be angry that one of her bartenders is calling out sick, because she understands- she really does - but this is the fifth time this specific worker has called out on a Saturday in the last three months. It’s fine though, she can find cover, or they can work with one less bartender. There’s no special themed dance or DJ tonight, so theoretically it shouldn’t get too overwhelming, but Dorothy’s is never not busy. She presses her fingers to her temples and retreats to her home office to look at the schedule. 

She skims the list of who’s working, and then checks who has the day booked off. After looking at that, and then eliminating anyone who's already worked 40 hours that week, it leaves her with two people she can ask to come in… and she knows from experience that no one wants to come in at the last minute for a saturday night shift. 

Still, she sends the more reliable worker a text first, and then sets her phone aside for now. She gets up to switch over the laundry and folds the load that comes out of the dryer. Alma is working on a puzzle on the couch and they both watch an episode of Buffy while they work on their own tasks. By time she’s done, and both her and Alma’s clothing is put away, she still hasn’t gotten a text back from the bartender. She decides she’s going to give him until noon, and then she’ll call the other option. A call probably would’ve been best, but she hates doing it when people aren’t working. 

At eleven, she and Alma walk down to the bus stop and they make their way to the grocery store with their little grocery wagon. Alma holds the list and proudly announces everything they need, and attempts to slip in a few extra things during the process. Lupe lets a few of them slide (secretly, she had already added them to the list in her mind), and some she put back. 

They’re  in the produce aisle picking out apples when Lupe’s phone rings. She looks at the caller ID and braces herself when the name of the second bartender scheduled to work tonight appears. 

“Hey, Chris, what’s up?” Lupe asks. Alma wanders down to look at peaches. 

“Hey Lupe, I uh, I’m really sorry to do this but my daughter was in the emergency all last night and we’re still waiting to be seen by a doctor… I don’t think I can make it to work tonight, I can’t leave her here alone,” he says. Lupe closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, tilting her phone away from her for a moment. 

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. Take care of your family and please keep me updated,” Lupe says. “Are you scheduled tomorrow?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, take the weekend. I hope everything is okay,” Lupe says. 

“Thank you. Have a good day,” he says. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

She hangs up and stares at her phone, which is when she notices the unread text message from the worker she asked to come in, who apologizes but can’t because they’re out of town for the weekend. 

She tries to not let it stress her out, and the two of them finish their grocery shopping and return home. The evening shifts start at seven, and by time she gets home it’s two thirty. She’s supposed to have her date at six thirty. 

Lupe calls the other worker, and is sent to voicemail. She leaves a voicemail, and then sends a text, but she knows that she’s going to likely be left on read until it’s too late for him to actually come in. 

So she tries a few people that she knows she’d have to pay overtime for, but both those options politely decline. When she finally gets the text back from the worker who sent her to voicemail, it’s a simple Sorry, can’t. Good luck though! 

Which means the bar is just Max tonight, and Lupe can’t do that to her in good conscience. Hell, she can’t even leave two people on bar in good conscience.  So she puts herself down on the schedule and dials the number she did not want to have to call today. 

Jess picks up on the second ring. 

“Hey,” they say, and Lupe can hear a touch of hesitancy behind their voice. 

“Hey,” she says. 

They’re both quiet on the phone for a moment. 

“I uh, I gotta reschedule,” Lupe says. 

Jess sighs heavily. Lupe slouches back in her chair. 

“Okay,” they say shortly. 

“Two of my bartenders called out and I can’t get any replacements,” Lupe says. “It’s a Saturday night, and I already feel bad enough that I’m the only cover I can get.” 

“It’s okay, I understand,” Jess says. 

“I’m really sorry,” Lupe says. 

“It’s okay,” Jess repeats. 

They’re both quiet again. 

“Do you want to have lunch tomorrow?” Jess asks. 

“I’d like that… maybe I can call you in the morning, we can figure something out?” Lupe asks. 

“Sure, that works for me,” Jess says. 

“Thank you, Jess. I’m really sorry again.”

“Quit apologizing,” Jess says. “It’ll work out eventually.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” Lupe says. 

“Yeah, you better.” 

There’s no animosity to the tone. Jess says it in a way that is meant to be endearing, but it just spreads more dread into the pit of Lupe’s stomach. 

Jess hangs up the phone and Lupe feels like she just severed a string between them. She puts her phone away and leans back in her chair, running her hand down her face. 

It’s fine. It’s all just fine. 

There’s a loud thunk upstairs, and two seconds later, Alma is yelling about her book tower falling down, and Lupe has to rush upstairs to help. 

She drags herself through the afternoon and arranges for Alma to spend the night at a friends house (thankfully, Alma has made up with her friends after learning that she hadn’t been purposely excluded, it was a surprise party that one of the moms arranged, and she didn’t have the right number for Lupe. Which was enough for Alma, but Lupe is still a bit bitter on her daughter's behalf, if she’s being honest) and she drops her off before making her way to the bar early. 

Instead of going down to her office right away, she joins the two bartenders and strikes up casual conversation with them. She asks if either of them would be willing to stay and be paid overtime for a few hours, and one of them, Alex, says she’ll let Lupe know before her shift ends. It's enough hope for Lupe, and she retreats down to her office for the hour before the shift change happens. 

There’s a drag show that starts at nine, the kitchen closes at ten, the bar opens up with a dance floor at ten thirty. If she can get Alex to stay until eleven, that’ll mean they’re covered for the show and when people first start coming in to dance. She and Max will still get overwhelmed at some point, but they can manage through it. They’ve done it before, back when Lupe was twenty two and running off three hours of sleep, reviewing for finals in between orders, and Max was twenty, significantly less tired but methodically organized. 

Lupe leaves her jacket at her desk and makes her way upstairs fifteen minutes before seven. She washes her hands and sets herself up by the bar. She’ll probably end up running around until the doors “open” for the show at eight, since it's a little bit quieter right now. There’s still a healthy cluster of people, but most are waiting for bills or finishing their meals. 

“Hey, Boss,” Alex says. “I can stay as long as you want me to, but I need a set time to leave.” 

“Thank you,” Lupe says. “If you can stay until eleven, that’ll be great. Take a half hour break once Max clocks in. I appreciate it so much.” 

“Course.” Then there’s a beat. “This’ll be overtime, right?”

“Yes, don’t worry, it will be.” 

“Cool.” She grins. 

Max clocks in and the other bartender leaves. The hosts of the show, as well as some of the drag queens start flooding in. There’s not really a dressing room for performers, but the basement is usually where the queens end up leaving their things and getting ready. Lupe can’t remember the last time she was actually working for one of these events. 

It’s going to be fun, she tells herself. If anything, it’s going to be a good opportunity to gauge how people are reacting and receiving the events they’re holding first hand instead of just looking at sales. 

The bar is almost full by eight forty, and Max, Lupe and Alex are dancing around each other in a precarious way in order to get all the drink orders in. Max is calling it all, telling who to work on what orders and Lupe honestly is grateful for it. It’s been so long, she’s lost a bit of the multitasking management about navigating rapid orders. 

At least once the show is over, the bar menu reduces to just the basics. 

“Hey, do you still play baseball?” Max asks between orders. Lupe looks up at her for a moment as she salts the rim of three glasses. 

“Uh, no not really. Haven’t been on a team since university,” Lupe says. She played all throughout her childhood, from six until senior year of high school. It was one of the first connections she and Max made when Max first got hired, and it was actually what sparked her idea to join the recreational team in University, but that only lasted two seasons before everything got too overwhelming. It was a bit easier, since Alma was a toddler and there were a few girls that loved just playing with Alma while the team practiced. Once she started taking high level classes though, she just couldn’t manage it all. 

“Do you want to be?” Max asks. Lupe hesitates as she puts together the ingredients for margaritas in a shaker. 

“I don’t really know if I have the time commitment,” Lupe says. 

“It’s really low commitment. There’s a group of us playing in a charity event for some queer organizations. The tournament is the weekend of June 16th and we’re just doing weekly practices until then,” Max says. “We could use a second pitcher, and I know you used to talk up your technique a little too much.” 

Lupe grins. 

“It’s because I’m fucking good at it,” she says. “Yeah. I’m not gonna commit to this right now, but text me the info, I’ll let you know in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

It looks like Max is about to say something more, but instead they get three more orders in rapid succession, and have to focus back on the work. 

Lupe doesn’t get home until nearly four am. 

She sleeps until two in the afternoon, and wakes up to four texts and a missed call from Jess. 

They reschedule again.  

They reschedule for the following Thursday, and Lupe is bound and determined to make it happen. She avoids any conflicts that could possibly come up, she makes sure Esti is good to babysit on Monday so that she doesn’t have to worry about it later in the week. Esti is pretty good about coming over at the last minute, but she wants to give as much warning as possible. 

She blocks off her schedule in the afternoon and lets staff know to go to one of the managers if they have any issues on that day, and she doesn’t make any personal plans around the day. She is bound and determined to make it happen. 

The day goes by without a hitch. She gets a text from Jess expressing their excitement, she gets Alma to school on time and does the work she needs to do for the day. Then, she gets home well before Alma does and takes her sweet time getting ready, pointedly avoiding her phone at all costs. 

At around four thirty, she finally takes out that damn frozen lasagna from weeks ago and puts it in the oven. Alma is home already, but she and Esti are set up in the living room doing their homework together. 

Her phone starts ringing, and she’s half tempted to ignore it, but when she checks the name, her stomach drops and she picks it up. 

“Hey,” she says hesitantly. 

“Hi. So…”

Lupe leans against the counter. She already knows what’s coming. 

“When are you free next?” Lupe asks. 

“I’m sorry, Lu, I fucking missed this event in my calender, and it’s been in here for weeks, apparently,” Jess says. “The entire band is supposed to be there, I can’t just not go.” 

“That’s fine. Uh, can you do Sunday?” Lupe asks, her voice hollow. 

“Yeah, I can do Sunday.”

There’s a long pause. 

“I’m really starting to dread your phone calls, you know,” Lupe says. 

“Yeah, trust me, me too,” Jess says. 

“Do you think maybe this is just a sign?” Lupe asks. “Maybe we need to take the pressure off of it being a date and just… try and be friends.” 

“If that’s what you want,” Jess says, but disappointment is leaching through their tone. 

“I don’t know what I want,” Lupe says honestly. “I want to see you and I want to be taken out so that I can take you out next time.”

“Then we wait until it works out. It’s got to eventually… It will on Sunday, I promise,” Jess says. 

“Okay, have fun tonight,” Lupe says. 

“I won’t, but I appreciate the thought,” Jess says. 

They hang up and Lupe sighs heavily. She grabs her day planner and flips it open to pencil in the date Sunday night, only to be met with the words FIRST BASEBALL PRACTICE in big, bold letters. 

Lupe groans and picks up her phone. 

Chapter Text

It’s officially been two weeks since Jess has last talked to Lupe, and they’ve hated every second of it. They can’t wrap their head around the fact that she so willingly gave everything up out of nowhere- not just the band, or the music, but them , her friends. They’ve tried to ask everyone else about Lupe, but by the sounds of it, everyone else has been given the same silent treatment. Except Maybelle. Somehow, she managed to get ahold of her but she wouldn’t disclose what they talked about, which just pisses Jess off more. 

Jess idly strums their guitar, playing the riff from some pop punk song that came out a few years ago. They’re not entirely sure what it is, but the notes come to them with easy muscle memory which means that the song meant something to them at some point. They’re high and there’s a room temperature beer on the coffee table.

They try to write something, but lyrics have never been their forte. Everyone seems completely unconcerned with the fact that Lupe wrote almost all of their songs, so they really shouldn’t be playing them without Lupe. 

It doesn’t really matter though. Those are the songs that got them the offer for the tour. Those are the songs the management expects them to play on tour. They’ve only got a forty five minute set to fill, and Greta has already pitched the idea of doing a cover or two for audience engagement (which is stupid, since when do they care about audiences knowing the words to their songs?). Jess hasn’t mentioned anything about the ownership of the songs yet, they haven’t had the energy to. 

Someone buzzes their apartment, and at first they want to ignore it. They restart the last couple bars of the song they’re playing, before they think better of it and get up. They look out their window, and can just make out a head of dark curls waiting underneath the porch. 

Their impulse is to run to the door, but instead they force themself to take their time, making Lupe wait before she comes in. There’s a split second where they think they should just ignore her, but no amount of anger in the world can make them do that. 

They buzz her in, and then wait for her to ascend the stairs, anxiously waiting by the door. 

Lupe doesn’t even get a chance to knock on the door before Jess swings it open. She jumps in shock, clearly not expecting them to be so punctual. Jess’s mouth is agape. They have no idea what to say. By the way Lupe stares back at them, it feels like she doesn’t either. 

“Uh… Hi,” she eventually says. “I just um… I wanted to come grab some of my stuff,” she says. 

“Your stuff?” Jess echos. She nods. Her hair is piled on the top of her head in an unkept bun. Lupe never wears her hair up, not even during the hottest summer days or most intense concerts. Jess doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Maybe they’re just reading too much into it. 

“Yeah. My acoustic and some clothes,” she says. “I’m just. I’m moving so… I kind of want to have all my stuff together. Just so I can take inventory and everything.”

“You’re moving? Where?” Jess asks. 

“I’ve mentioned wanting to get closer to downtown before,” Lupe says hesitantly. “And that my lease is up at the end of next month. I’ve told you that before too. I uh, I’m moving in with an old coworker. Little bit easier on rent, a bit more space… y’know?” She’s quiet, her words falling out with little energy behind them. She avoids direct eye contact, instead gazing around Jess’s apartment as if she’s never set foot in it before. 

“I just… I guess I just thought…” Jess starts, but what did they think? That Lupe would want to move in with them when her lease was up? That they’d share a bed and a kitchen and a bathroom? That Jess would clear out half of their closet instead of just a drawer? Why would she? How would she continue to ignore Jess and burn their friendship- their relationship away, if she was living under the same room as them?

“Sorry I didn’t mention it, I guess, but we’ve been talking about it for a few weeks now,” Lupe says. 

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been talking to me about a lot of things for a couple weeks now,” Jess bites. Lupe doesn’t react, she just turns her attention to Jess, but her gaze stays low, looking at their feet instead of their face. 

“Can I just grab my things?” she asks. “I’m really not in the mood to-”

“Yeah, you’re never in the mood,” Jess says. Still, they step aside and let Lupe in, who cautiously walks past the kitchen and into the living room. She gazes around, before she looks at Jess, as if asking for permission to go into their bedroom. 

Instead, they just walk past Lupe to put her guitar away in its case. That guitar has held a space on their wall for months now- almost as long as Jess has been living there. They don’t have another guitar to put on the fourth hook. 

Lupe watches for a moment, before she makes her way to the bedroom. She’s got a backpack slung over her shoulder, ready to grab everything.

Jess debates if they want to help or not. They don’t want to have to dig through their own things though to find hers. She keeps most of her things in her drawer, but Jess won’t be surprised if there’s a sweater somewhere mixed in with theirs, or if one of their graphic t-shirts ends up missing after Lupe leaves today. Neither of them ever cared about keeping their things strictly separated. 

They decide not to help. Instead, they down their beer, crack open another one and then settle right back into the couch and continue to play their guitar. Now, they chose a song that Lupe loves. They don’t know if this is meant to be a truce, or they’re doing it out of spite, but the guitar line naturally follows the melody, so it’s distinct enough that Lupe will know exactly what it is from the other room. They play the verse and chorus an extra time before they go into the bridge. 

Lupe remerges twenty minutes later with a full backpack and an extra grocery bag with things from the bathroom. 

“You’re taking everything, then?” Jess asks flatly. They’re still playing the song, but Lupe doesn’t make any move to acknowledge it. She just nods. 

“Like I said, inventory,” she says. 

“It’s got nothing to do with the fact that you’re actively cutting me out of your life?” Jess asks. 

“Jess…”

“Don’t Jess me, Lu. That’s exactly what you're doing. Since when is Maybelle the only person you talk to in the band?” they ask. 

“I needed her help with something,” Lupe says. “I’m sorry, Jess, I didn’t mean to just…” 

Jess stops playing the guitar. They put it down on the couch and stand up. 

“You said you’d talk to me and tell me everything,” Jess says. “Are you still going to do that? Or are you going to leave here and keep ghosting me for weeks on end?”

“I… I owe you an explanation-”

“Fucking right you do!”

“But I’m not doing it while you’re being hostile towards me,” Lupe says. 

“I’m not being hostile. I’m a bit annoyed, yeah, but you would be too if I broke your heart, ghosted you for two weeks and then randomly showed up to get all my things,” Jess says. Lupe goes quiet again, before she sets down her things against the wall. 

“I didn’t break your heart,” Lupe says. 

“You can’t tell me what you did or didn’t do to me,” Jess says. “You left the band, you messed with my feelings, it feels like I haven’t been anything more than a fuck buddy to you for the last month and a half, you’re keeping secrets from me about me , and it’s eating me alive.”

“None of this is about you,” Lupe says. “And that’s pretty fucking vein of you to claim it is.” 

“Well how am I supposed to know! You’re not telling me anything!” they exclaim. 

Lupe goes quiet again. Jess is getting sick of just staring at her, because the longer they do, the more exhausted Lupe looks, which makes them less angry and more concerned and they don’t want to be worried, they want to be angry. 

“If you’re not going to tell me, please just leave,” Jess finally says. “And at least tell me that this is all over. The band, sure, I know that part, but us .” 

“I think it’s best… if we stop sleeping with each other,” Lupe says quietly. “I- I can’t do something romantic with you, and it’s not fair to either of us if we keep pretending we can.” 

It feels like a gut punch so strong that they almost take a step back out of shock. Instead they close their mouth that had been hanging open and just give a small nod. 

“Okay, fine,” Jess says. “For the record, I never thought anything between us was going to become romantic. It was always just sex.” A bold face lie. Lupe looks up at them and her eyes glaze over. She blinks a few times, and a single tear runs down her cheek. She takes a deep breath. Jess resists the urge to wipe the tear away and apologize. 

If Lupe is going to be cruel, so will they. 

“I think I just… need some space in general,” Lupe says. “And I’ll reach out when I’m ready but… I mean, if it was just sex to you, I don’t know if we can just go back to being friends like nothing happened.” 

“I don’t want that,” Jess says, which makes another tear fall from Lupe’s face. This time she wipes it away before it gets the chance to roll down her cheek. 

“I don’t want that either,” Lupe says. “But for now , I need space.” 

“Is it because of your mom?” Jess asks. 

“If it was just sex to you, why would that matter?” Lupe says. “My mom’s opinions never stopped me from crawling into your bed five times a week. Believe it or not, she doesn’t control that much of my life anymore.” 

Jess crosses their arms. Lupe does the same. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” They say. 

Lupe grabs her bags. 

“I’m going to leave now,” she says and begins to make her way to the door. Jess wants to just let her go, but they end up following her, and they block the door for just one more moment. 

“Wait, Lu,” they start. 

“What?”

“We… We’re doing auditions tomorrow morning. I know you need space from me but I don’t think that means you should take space from the band. You’ve got one more chance to come back,” Jess says. They don’t know why they’re saying this after all that’s been said, but they need her to know. They want her to come back, even if it’s not to them. They can’t stand the reality of her actually walking away. 

“Good luck with them. I’m sure you’ll find someone great,” Lupe says with a small nod. Jess deflates, but they should’ve expected that response. They hesitate, before they open the door and Lupe goes right through without another word. Jess watches as she walks down the hall, until she disappears from sight leaving them standing in their hallway, not quite sure how to react. 

This all feels so final . They couldn’t break up- they would have had to be dating to do that, but it feels like Lupe just took their heart out of their chest and tossed it aside. 

They slam the door shut behind them, and sink right back into their couch with their guitar. Only this time, they can’t bring themselves to actually play anything. They just stare at the blank wall in front of them. 

Jess meets the rest of the band at the studio at nine am. They clutch their guitar in one hand, and a shittily brewed coffee in the other. They’re almost twenty minutes late, but no one says anything as they set their things down and silently join the band and Beverly at the table. There’s an exchange of good mornings, and then the band continues to talk about what they’re looking for without even filling in Jess on what’s already been discussed. Jess doesn’t pay attention anyway. They all know that Jess will probably contribute the least during this process- they’ve already made their stance known on replacing a band member. 

Beverly managed the audition schedule for them, but Greta told her to try and get as many people in as possible, and to not worry too much about screening people. This means that they’ve got auditions scheduled back to back from ten am to noon, and then from one to three, with the potential of drop ins afterwards, and then Greta wants to be able to call people back tonight just to have a quick session of playing with them and see how they work with the band. 

Jess thinks that’s overkill, but they only have the studio space for the day, and no one else wants to have to find a secondary location for call backs. 

They grab a notebook from the front pocket of their guitar case, and Jess settles into their seat on the edge of the table. They check their phone, but why would they have any missed calls or text messages? Lupe has been silent, they’re in the room with their band. There’s no one else they really care about. 

The first few people come in in a blur. They introduce themselves, play a couple songs and then are asked a handful of questions (mostly by Greta and Jo). Jess stares at everyone as they play, and barely writes down any notes. In contrast, Maybelle is watching the musicians intently and then making notes afterwards,, Jo is writing some things throughout but Greta is making page long notes for everyone. 

After the fourth person, Greta jokes, “God, next time we should make people bring in headshots… How am I supposed to remember who’s who!?” 

“Well hopefully we don’t have to do this another time,” Maybelle laughs. 

By the time they get their break at noon, Jess has only written two somewhat positive things about two of the strangers, but none of them have been right. There wasn’t quite the right energy, or Jess didn’t like the way they played. There was one guy that was fine , but he had no sparkle, and he seemed a little off put about the fact that there were a “girl band” That comment is still itching at Jess’s skin an hour later. 

Jo, Maybelle and Greta all chose to use their lunch to talk about the morning auditions, but Jess goes outside to have a smoke, and then they end up walking around the block. They get a text from Jo asking if they’re coming back, but they ignore her. Jess doesn’t care who takes Lupe’s spot, as long as they’re talented enough to fill her shoes, and no one has come close to being that yet. 

They return fifteen minutes before they’re meant to start up again, and it’s a relief when they find out that everyone agrees that no one was quite right from the morning. 

Unfortunately, it continues like that for the next hour. Nothing but mediocre players with lackluster personalities. And bad fashion sense. Of course, that only seems to be the harsh opinion of Jess. Everyone else seems to have at least some optimistic feelings about some of them. Jess doesn’t believe them personally, but they know if they keep complaining they’re going to start a fight and they can’t be arsed to do that today. 

They’re absently scribbling on their paper when Beverly lets in the next person. The previous girl was named Laura (or Laurie, Jess doesn’t fully remember) and the only note they made under her name was:

  Looks like she would misgender me. Lame. 

Which, kind of did happen. So. They weren’t entirely wrong. 

This girl looks completely out of breath, with her long brunette hair tangled up around her and her dress misbuttoned. She’s clutching a guitar case so tightly her knuckles start to go white. She walks forward, and instead of getting ready to play, she just smiles awkwardly at the table. 

“Uh, hi. I’m Carson. I’m originally from Idaho, and… I would love to play some stuff for you,” she says. 

Jess has to stop themself from rolling their eyes. Greta leans forward and rests her chin on her hand. 

“Well I sure hope so,” she says. “Are you familiar with us at all?”

Beverly gestures to Carson’s top and she glances down, before gasping and quickly fixing the buttons that came undone. 

“No, not really. I actually work in the tape archive here and I record for a bunch of musicians that come in, sometimes, anyways. Uh, I was actually brought in for Dottie Hinson’s last album and Daniel recommended I come play for you guys. He gave me your demo CD to listen through and I only got through it once or twice but it was all really good. I’ve never been part of a band before, but I’ve always loved the idea of it-”

“Hey, Carson, right?” Greta says with a smile. 

“Yes,” she replies. 

“We’ve only got ten minutes. Let’s hear you play,” she says. 

“Oh, right!” Carson drops her case and pulls out her guitar from the case, quickly plugging it into the amp and getting situated. 

“So the first one is an original, and the second is actually from your demo- uh, I think it’s called Bruises?”

“Bruised,” Jess corrects. They sit up a little straighter, clutching to their pen. It’s the first time they’ve talked all afternoon. Carson flushes and corrects herself, before she launches into her first song. 

Jess stares, but doesn’t really take it in, too busy anticipating the second choice. That’s not your song they think. 

That’s not your song.

Carson closes her eyes when she plays, and her lips twitch. She’s clearly muttering lyrics that she’s omitting while she plays the guitar. 

That’s not your song. 

She gently bounces to the music, and she keeps the rhythm nicely but her composition is basic. It’s fine. She clearly knows technique and music theory and how to mess with it in a basic way, but it’s nothing special. 

That’s not your song. 

When she’s done, she takes a second and shakes it out before she starts playing Bruised. 

She starts with power chords in the chorus and then launches into the bridge. It’s one of their more complicated guitar solos, and she plays it with an almost perfect replication, considering it all would’ve had to be learned by ear. She misses a few of the notes, and plays another bar in a more inefficient fingering than Jess does. 

That’s not your song. That’s not your song. That’s not your song. 

She finishes and does the same weird little breath to shake out her rigid stance. Jess grips their pen. 

“That’s my part of the song,” Jess says. 

“Pardon?” Carson asks. 

“When we play the song, that’s the part I do,” they say. 

“ Jess ,” Greta hisses. “It was still a great rendition of it.” 

She turns to Carson with a smile. “Don’t mind them, they’re a grumpy old man until you get to know them.” Jess huffs and rolls their eyes again, but they stay quiet. 

“So you’re from Idaho… Were you a farmer?” Greta asks, which earns a small, forced laugh from Carson. 

“No,” she says. 

“How long have you been playing?” Greta asks. 

“Guitar? Since I was fifteen, but I can play piano, the harmonica, and the banjo as well, and I was in choir pretty much all growing up. Mostly church choir, but some community choirs as well when I stopped going to church,” she explains. “I was an alto, so you know, the hardest harmonies to keep in tune.” 

“I’ve always been more of a soprano myself,” Greta says. “Of course I never did choir, but in the bedroom…”

Jess rolls their eyes again. Carson’s cheeks flush bright red and her grip on her guitar tightens. They look across the table to Jo, but she’s nudging Greta playfully under the table, clearly amused by this. Jess makes a note on their page: too easily flustered by Greta’s flirting. 

She’s not even the first girl Greta’s flirted with today, but maybe this time she actually is interested. Jess isn’t entirely sure how to tell the difference between Greta’s normal flirting and her flirting flirting. They don’t need to know the difference. They don’t like Carson either way. 

“Listen, we have a few more hours of auditions but, just in case we want you to come back to play with us… what’s the best number to call?” Greta asks. She pulls her pen out from behind her ear and posies it by her lips, waiting patiently. 

“Oh, uh, the one on the sheet I filled out is good,” Carson says. 

“Okay… So if I’m going for drinks later, what number do I call?” Greta asks. Something connects in Carson’s brain, and she somehow blushes even redder. Jess clicks their pen shut and puts it down on their notebook. They lean back and cross their arms over their chest, waiting impatiently for this stupid interaction to finish. 

Unfortunately, because of Greta’s little infatuation, they’ve gone a few minutes over Carson’s audition slot and now they have to try and make up for it before their next break. 

But because Carson runs over, the next girl runs over and the third one doesn’t have her guitar set up until five minutes before they’re supposed to be able to have a break. Which… obviously does not happen, because the last disappointing girl disappears and then they only have five minutes until the next slot, but they can’t delay the auditions, so they have to just keep pushing forward. 

Jess slouches down further and further in their chair, until their back was starting to ache from the awkward angle. They stop making notes about musicians, instead just watching them with the same disinterested face. Jess doesn’t care, because they don’t care who replaces Lupe. No one's going to be good enough, so what’s the point?

After a particularly bad audition, they’re all free for an hour and a half. After the entire wasted day, there’s no one Jess wants to see again. However, the group decides to call back Carson (which makes Jess roll their eyes) and two other girls to see how things go. Jess doesn’t want to have to do it, but they don’t argue. Frankly, they don’t have the energy to argue with the rest of them about any of this. They know that anything they have to say is going to be dismissed, and they can’t bring themself to care. 

So they fuck off on their own, using half a pack of cigarettes and an iced coffee as their excuse of a dinner, and return without saying a word to anyone. They’re the first to get back, so they grab their guitar and sit down at the table, absently playing something to warm their hands up. 

A part of them expects Lupe to walk into the room with her guitar, maybe dressed a bit more like Lupe than she was this morning, sheepishly asking if this is where the auditions were taking place. Jess would grin and invite her in, and they’d make up and everything would go back to normal. They could cancel the rest of the call backs and it’ll be okay. 

Obviously, that doesn’t happen. 

After they warm up, Jess starts playing the guitar for bruised. They play it smoother than Carson did, humming the melody softly under their breath. They’re not much of a singer, but it guides the music in a way that dances off their fingers and wraps around their body in a bittersweet hug. It’s a bit of a downer when you strip it back to just the guitar. It feels necessary though- to scrub Carson’s interpretation of the song away from their memory. 

There’s a knock at the door but Jess ignores it. After a second, it swings open and Carson peeks her head around the corner. Jess looks up and the two of them lock eyes. They stop playing. 

“The rest of the band is out until seven,” Jess says. 

“Oh, right I guess I misread the time Greta sent me,” Carson says. “Can I… come in?” 

Jess shrugs. 

“Guess so,” they say. 

Jess goes back to doing simple warm ups on the guitar, even though they don’t need to do much more of those at this point. Carson walks in and looks around for a moment before she sets her guitar case down and makes her way over to where Jess is sitting. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot during my audition,” Carson says. Jess looks up. 

“I don’t think a ten minute audition slot is enough time to get off on the wrong foot with someone,” Jess says. 

“I just- you were pretty passionate about the fact that I had played your part in that song and I just wanted you to know that I didn’t do that intentionally… I just wanted to pick something interesting to play for you guys,” Carson says. 

“It’s fine,” Jess says. “Everyone really likes you, so.” 

“Like…. The band?” Carson asks. Jess nods. 

“Besides, Bruised is getting taken off the set list,” Jess says. It has too much of Lupe’s fingerprints on it. Jess won’t be able to handle it if they keep playing it, and frankly, even if Lupe made it clear that she wants the band to keep playing her songs, Jess doesn’t want to. 

“Oh. Okay,” Carson says. “It’s a really good song, though.”

“And it was written by one of the best musicians I know,” Jess says. “But she’s not in the band anymore, which is why you’re here, and well. There’s some songs I don’t want to keep playing without her here to play it.” 

“Lupe, right?” Carson asks. 

“Yeah,” Jess says. 

“Did she write a lot of songs for Peach Fizz?” Carson asks. 

“Almost all of them,” Jess says. “Most of the songs predate the band.” 

“Oh… That’s kind of cool,” Carson says. “Why’d she leave?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Chapter Text

Lupe lets out a small huff as she drops her bag in the porch, and Alma mimics it dramatically with her own. It’s already half an hour past her bedtime, and she makes her way upstairs without much prompting from Lupe. Her first baseball practice ran a little bit later than she anticipated, and she couldn’t find someone to watch Alma so she had to tag along. She was happy sitting in the grass until it started getting too dark out for her to be able to read her book. Afterwards, she watched the game with a surprising amount of interest. 

Baseball came back to her like playing guitar; all the muscle memory was there, it just took her body a second to really lock in and find it again. It helps that the team Max put together was so good. She knew that Max played, but she’s never seen her in action before. She almost feels a bit out of place with everyone, who clearly still play regularly on community or competitive teams, but they were all nice. She can’t quite remeber the names of everyone, but she finally got to put a face to Max’s partner, Ester for the first time and that was exciting. 

Her body is already starting to ache though, not used to so much exercise anymore. That’s an issue for tomorrow though, she decides. She has a few meetings in the morning, but otherwise her day is pretty clear. Then it’s Tuesday and she is going to make damn sure that nothing comes up, because if she has to reschedule her date with Jess one more time, she’s taking it as a sign, and she really does not want to have to take it as a sign. 

She pours herself a glass of water and refills Alma’s water bottle and trudges her way upstairs. There’s an odd scratch in the back of her throat that she tries to ease with sips of water. 

Alma is already changed and brushing her teeth when Lupe reaches the top step. She sets Alma’s water bottle on her nightstand and then brings hers into her own room. She loses her sweat soaked t-shirt and grabs her robe hanging off of the back of her door. She waits until Alma is settled in her bed to jump in the shower, letting the hot water melt away the sweat and dust from the ballpark. 

It’s almost perfect timing that she’s about to crawl into bed when her phone lights up with a familiar buzz. She finishes pulling on her pyjama pants and crawls under the covers. 

“Hey,” she says as she settles down on her side. She can already feel herself drifting off, so she puts Jess on speaker phone, plugs it in and sets it on her nightstand. 

“Hey, Lu. How was the baseball game?” Jess asks. 

“Just practice," Lupe says. “It’s for a charity event in the middle of June… Sundays are officially for baseball for the next couple weeks.” She laughs softly. 

“Did you have fun though?” Jess asks. 

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Lupe says. She stares at the screen of her phone and watches as the timer ticks upwards on the call. “I haven’t played in… six or seven years? It was nice. Like riding a bike.” 

“That’s good, I’m glad.” 

Lupe closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“Yeah. You should put the dates in your phone for the tournament,” Lupe says. “If you want to come, anyways. It starts on the 16th and goes till the 18th, but y’know, it’ll depend how far we get.” 

“I’ll make sure to make it to at least one,” Jess says. “Put some bids down at the silent auctions.”

“Buy some overpriced beer,” Lupe adds. 

“I’ll get a custom shirt and everything. What’s your team called again?”

“I don’t know if we have one,” Lupe laughs. “That’s Max’s job, not mine. I told her I’d play as long as that was all I had to do. I can barely schedule a date, I’m not adding more team planning to my list of things to do.” 

“At least you don’t have to plan the date, I’ve got all that covered,” Jess says. 

“Yeah, you’re probably sick of calling to cancel reservations,” Lupe says. 

“Nah, I stopped making reservations after the second time we had to reschedule. I’ll figure it out once I pick you up on Tuesday,” Jess says. Then they hesitate. “I am picking you up on Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise this date isn’t getting rescheduled,” Lupe says. She rolls over onto her side facing the phone. She swallows, still feeling the lump in her throat after all that exercise. Her damp hair soaks her pillow and her shoulders, she knows that she’s going to regret falling asleep with it wet tomorrow. 

“Good, because if it does, I’m just moving into your basement,” Jess says. They’re joking, but there’s a hint of something more serious behind that. Something urgent. 

“I don’t have a basement,” Lupe says. “Or a guest room, but I suppose I can give you the floor of my closet if you really want to,” she jokes. 

“Wow, just the floor? Not even going to give me a mattress?” Jess asks. 

“Well, are you bringing one?” Lupe asks. 

“No, I figure you’ll probably take pity on me and give me half your bed,” Jess says. Lupe hums, pretending to consider it. 

“I don’t know… I’ve gotten so used to having my bed to myself, I don’t know if I could relearn how to share,” she muses. Jess huffs dramatically which makes Lupe smile. 

“Could or would?” Jess asks. 

“Could. I would do it, if I had to, but I dunno…” she lets out a sigh as she stretches out, rolling back on her back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Asshole,” Jess says. “I’m taking you to the saddest movie possible on Tuesday,” they say. 

“Try me, Jess. Alma made me watch Where The Red Fern Grows so she could compare it in her book report,” Lupe says. “I doubt there’s anything sadder in the theatre right now.” 

“Is that the one about the dogs?”

“The one where we see them as puppies, grow a bond with them and Billy and then have to watch the dogs brutally die? Yeah, that’s the one. Awful. Depressing. I have no idea why a gaggle of fifth graders were forced to read the same brutal stories I had to read as a kid,” Lupe says. 

“Don’t fix what ain’t broken, I guess,” Jess says. “I’m still going to figure something out. Maybe they’re doing a special showing of a recorded symphony Tuesday evening. How’s that sound, a night of classical music?”

“I can very easily cancel. I’ve done it countless times before,” Lupe says. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t even joke about that, I’m starting to get superstitious,” Jess says. 

Hopefully someday soon they will be able to crack jokes and laugh about the way the universe was doing it’s best to keep the two of them away, but for now, Lupe feels the weight between them, even through the phone. There’s at least the comfort of phone calls, of quick reschedules and a general interest bubbling between the two. Lupe almost wants to bring up the worry of them putting too much pressure on these dates, and that’s what causes them to have to constantly reschedule. She doesn’t though, because she doesn’t want to have a conversation that might not actually be needed. 

So instead, she keeps Jess on the line until she falls asleep, steady conversation turning into shorter sentences that stretch further and further apart until Lupe is completely asleep. Somewhere in the back of her mind, before she totally falls from consciousness, she hears Jess say something that doesn’t process. 

The next morning, Lupe wakes up to her alarm like normal. Jess probably had the sense to hang up the call before falling asleep entirely, but the timestamp on the call history stretches for almost five hours, which is long after Lupe fell asleep, surely. 

The scratch in the back of her throat is still there, and it almost feels like it spread down it. She dismisses it as she washes her face. The hot facecloth melts the sleep away from her eyes and clears her nose up. Her muscles are a little stiff, but it’s mostly in her legs. 

She stretches in the mirror and attempts to comb her hair, which is laying wildly thanks to falling asleep with it wet. She ends up resoaking her hair and scrunches away the extra moisture. 

She makes her way down the stairs with a little bit less energy than usual. She yawns as she puts the kettle on for her coffee. She weighs the beans and grinds them, sniffing absently as she moves from step to step. Once her coffee is brewing in her french press, she puts bread in the toaster for herself and settles in at the kitchen table to check her schedule. 

Her Monday morning continues on more or less the same as usual; getting Alma out of bed, answering any emails, making breakfast for Alma, then making her lunch while Alma talks about her week ahead (butterflies have started hatching from their chrysalis as of last week, she has a math test on Wednesday, this week in music class they’re learning about different genres, Cheesey Henry is on the list for show and tell this week (Lupe condemned the nickname, but apparently Henry flaunts his cheese knowledge and encourages the name), and they have to start the classroom cleaning activities this week since they’re almost done for the summer), and then before Lupe knows it they’re running late and she has to rush Alma out the door. 

The sun is already warm enough that Alma hands her jacket off to Lupe before they even cross the first street. Lupe, however, buttons up the two buttons of her denim jacket around her chest and stashes her hands in her pocket. There’s a little bit of chill somewhere in the air, maybe it's the breeze or the oddly thin material of her shirt. 

There’s a bit of a headache forming in the back of her eyes by the time she watches Alma run up the field to meet her friends on the playground. She clears her throat as she starts to walk home, and ends up taking some pain killers and brewing a thermos of lemon and honey tea before she takes off to work. 

Lupe powers through the first half of her day; dealing with paperwork, renewing one of their licenses, emails, all the boring busy work that has become so much of her normal. 

That afternoon, she’s supposed to have a meeting with Ana to talk about the next three months for events. Her desktop screen in the basement office has made her eyes tired though, and her headache is steadily creeping in, pushing past her eyes and into her temples. She doesn’t want to have to reschedule this though, so she emerges from the office and gets more tea before she tucks herself away in one of the large corner booths with her physical dayplanner and her laptop. 

The music playing in the bar is a nuisance, but it’s not loud enough to justify going over to the controls and turning it down. Besides, there’s enough people that have trickled in since they opened at eleven that the reduction of music would be obvious. So she sucks it up and sips her tea. 

Ana slides in across from her, her blonde hair cut short and a new tattoo on her forearm. This isn’t the first time the two have seen each other since Ana got back from tour, but it is the first time they’re had time to sit down and discuss work. Usually by now the two of them would have had dinner, because they are friends outside of work, but their schedules haven’t aligned properly yet (seems like no one has). 

“Was the turnout okay while I was away?” Ana asks after they exchange their basic small talk. Lupe nods. 

“I think the only slow night for the open mic was when it was pouring rain out,” Lupe says. “And I wasn’t here for anything else, ‘side from a couple of the weekend shows but from what the staff told me, it was all pretty good.”

“Your Instagram posts weren’t as bad as last time,” Ana jokes, which earns a small huff of a laugh from Lupe. She’s not one to use social media for herself, and while she knows the basics of what works for businesses, thanks to the singular social media management workshop she took after graduating, she doesn’t do it as well as Ana. 

“Well, it was a lot of copy and paste from you,” Lupe says. “It’s pretty easy when the only thing that needs to be changed for the posters are the dates and the trivia topics.” 

She leans on her hand in an attempt to subtly press her fingers into the side of her head. 

Ana goes on to list off some of the people she already has booked for the next three months, and they update the physical calendar together. There’s only three Saturdays that they’ve yet to book for live music, but there’s no urgency to find people to fill it- it’ll happen long before the actual weekends in question happen. Trivia themes are planned for the next month and Ana pitches the idea of bringing the guy on who covered for her permanently to do the trivia. Lupe jots it down in her books to check the budget for it, but she’s almost certain she’s going to approve it. He was nice enough, and he does trivia for another bar on the other side of town on Monday nights, which could bring in more of a crowd at Dorothy’s. 

“Do you mind if we set up another meeting to look at the analytics?” Lupe ends up asking after they got the most basic topics out of the way. 

“Yeah, of course,” Ana says. She looks up and watches Lupe for a second. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just a bad headache,” Lupe dismisses. “Nothing else.” 

“Yeah, it looks bad,” she remarks, which leaves Lupe wondering: what the hell does that mean? 

Still, it’s getting to be too much for her to argue about it. So they finish off the meeting by looking at any loose ends that have to be addressed, and by the end of it, Lupe is ready to take off and head home. 

Thankfully, Ana offers to give her a drive so she doesn’t have to brave the transit while being just about ready to crash. She grabs her things from her office, says goodbye to the people currently working and then the two drive in almost silence on the way back. Ana fills some of it with stories from her tour, which is exciting because it’s the first time they’ve headlined a tour, and Lupe definitely tries to follow it, but her mind keeps drifting to the way it feels like her heart is beating out of her skull. 

She thanks Ana, makes her way inside and crashes out on the couch with two more painkillers in her system and a large ice pack carefully draped on her face. The idea of setting an alarm for when she needs to go get Alma crosses her mind in an endless loop of “do this now” and then not moving. At some point, she convinces herself that she’s already done it, and at some point she drifts off uneasily. 

The door slams shut and Lupe jolts awake, knocking the mostly melted bag of ice off of her face as she stumbles to her feet, heart racing and eyes wide. 

“MOOOM!” Alma yells. Lupe blinks, glancing at the clock in the living room before she curses to herself under her breath. 

“Livin’ room,” Lupe calls out, but her voice comes out scratchy and hoarse. Her throat is even more sore, her headache subsided slightly but still pounding. Her nose is stuffed. She sniffs, but barely anything gets through. 

“You didn’t come get me!” Alma yells. “I had to walk home alone!” 

The realization hits her, and she feels the blood flood from her face. 

“Shit. I know, I know,” Lupe says. “I’m sorry, Lobito, I just…” She clears her throat. “I must’ve slept through my alarm.” 

Alma drops her bag dramatically at the door and then kicks her shoes off at the wall. Lupe would usually scold that behaviour, but she doesn’t have the energy to this time, and admittedly, she knows it's justified. 

“That was the first time I had to walk home alone. Everyone was gone from the park before I gave up! I thought something bad happened!” Alma shouts. 

“Please don’t yell, hun, I’m not… I’m sorry I didn’t come get you, I’m not feeling well and I slept through my alarm,” she explains. 

“Yeah… You sound really bad,” Alma says. She pauses. “You were okay this morning.” 

“I felt okay this morning,” Lupe repeats. Her voice flickers out again and she clears her throat again. 

“Are you sick?”

Lupe pauses. 

“Maybe,” Lupe says. Yes, obviously, she corrects in her head, but she refuses. She can’t afford to be sick. Her date tomorrow aside, Lupe doesn’t get sick often, but when she does, it’s almost always bad. It’s been years since she last got sick, and she has so much scheduled throughout this week that it’s going to just add even more stress to her, which is going to push the illness even deeper into her system. 

“Well… maybe I can forgive you this time, then,” Alma says. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no. Be angry, I had a responsibility and I didn’t fulfill it,” Lupe says. “I know you’re almost old enough to walk home by yourself, but you shouldn’t have had to without us talking about it first. 

“Okay. I’m angry,” Alma says. “But I knew how to get home… and nothing bad happened to me or to you, so it’ll be okay.” 

Alma goes to give Lupe a hug, but ends up stopping herself with a narrowed expression. 

“I don’t want to get sick,” she says.  

Alma turns on her heels and makes her way upstairs. She washes her hands and face, using the steam from the facecloth to try and open her nose up a little bit more. After, Lupe makes herself more tea, and loads it up with extra honey. She drinks a scorching mouthful of it, and her throat eases just a little bit. 

Alma comes downstairs eventually and decides that she wants to make her own after school snack. Lupe lets her, half because she doesn’t want to be standing for an extended period of time, and half because the less she has to handle stuff for Alma, probably the better. She sits in the far corner of the table and coaches Alma through cutting up some strawberries, and then she chooses some cheese strings and a packet of cookies. Usually the snack gets eaten at the table, but this time, she lets Alma go into the living room since she got home a half hour later than she normally should’ve, and her favourite show is airing a new episode tonight. 

Lupe decides to let the manager tomorrow know that she probably won’t be around preemptively, but will be a phone call away if anything happens. She orders a pizza for dinner, because she doesn’t have the energy to cook anything else, and leaves the cash at the door for Alma to pay the delivery person just in case she falls asleep again. She settles into the recliner in the living room with a blanket and closes her eyes while Alma’s show plays in the background. 

Alma ends up waking her up when the pizza is delivered, and she’s already taken the time to put her slices on a plate for her. Lupe thanks her, but she doesn’t have much of an appetite. She still eats it anyways, slowly nibbling away at the slice of greasy pizza until it’s completely gone. 

She forces herself to clean up afterwards, and then she takes a long, hot shower. Alma does most of her bedtime routine by herself, which Lupe is grateful for. She’s feeling a little bit better by the time she’s crawling into her bed, and she can’t help but hope that whatever she’s come down with is going to subside by the time she wakes up. 

Somewhere, distantly, at some point, she hears her phone go off, but she can’t bring herself to check it as she’s falling asleep. 

The next morning, Lupe can barely make herself move at her alarm. Her body aches and it takes her a moment just to be able to open her eyes. Her nose is completely clogged and her breathing comes out wet and congested. Lupe rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, even the sliver of light coming through her curtains is too much for her. 

She clears her throat and tries to say something out loud, but nothing more than a hoarse squeak comes out. A stray tear trickles out the corner of her eye out of frustration. 

The only plus side is that she isn’t feeling overly nauseous. 

Much like the night before, she peels herself out of her bed and forces herself into a hot shower in an attempt to ease her muscles and clear her sinuses. At some point, she sinks down to the bottom of the shower when she starts to feel dizzy and begins to unintentionally drift off. 

It’s not until the water starts to go cold that Lupe gets up and turns off the water. 

She dresses herself in sweats and the largest hoodie she has, not even bothering to dry off her hair in any capacity. Alma is quick to catch on to Lupe’s slow moving and sickly appearance, and she takes the initiative to make her own breakfast and lunch while Lupe nurses her own tea and cup of yogurt in the meantime. 

Her voice still comes out as a little squeak, but she has enough energy to be able to say audible words, not that Alma notices, as she’s still full of energy and talking about what’s in store for the day like she always does in the morning. 

“Do you want to walk alone to school, or should I ask Auntie Alma to walk with you?” Lupe asks at some point. She can at least say with confidence that she would not make it to and from school this morning. 

Alma debates it quietly in her head and then shoves far too many baby carrots into her sandwich bag. 

“I think… I can do it by myself,” Alma decides. 

The idea makes her a little bit nervous, but Lupe reminds herself that Alma walked home by herself yesterday, and if something were to happen, the office would call her right away. She also feels bad asking Alma so late in the morning to walk with her Alma, so she decides that it’s okay. She double checks Alma’s lunch and then hovers with her on the porch until Alma is down the block, looking both ways before crossing the street. 

Lupe sits on her porch until Alma is completely gone from her sight, and then she retreats back into her home. She downs some cold medicine and then curls back up in her bed with the windows drawn as much as she can. 

Lupe reaches for her phone and squints from the light as she navigates through it until she lands on Jess’s contact. Her entire body feels heavy as she types out an all too familiar message, but she’s in far too much of a hazy pain to be able to register the disappointment. 

From Lupe: Reschedule? Barely functioning. Sick as hell. 

Lupe debates waiting for a reply, but she’s already drifting off into another uncomfortable sleep as she clutches her phone in her hand. It buzzes after a few minutes, and then when Lupe doesn’t respond it starts to ring a few minutes later. She lets it go for a few rings before she answers it and puts it on speaker phone. 

“Hello?” she grumbles out.

“Hey, Lu,” Jess says. She can’t tell if they’re concerned, disappointed or some weird blend of emotions. She’s just trying to keep herself awake long enough to finish the conversation. 

“Sorry,” Lupe manages to get out. She opens her eyes and tries to stare at the timer counting up on the phone call. She counts seven seconds go by before her eyes shut again. 

“Don’t be sorry. What do you think you got?” Jess asks. 

“Sick,” Lupe replies. 

“Yeah, yeah… I can hear that,” Jess says. “Is there anything I can do? I can bring you some soup or something.” 

Lupe shifts a bit in bed. 

“No, no, no.. It’s… I’m ok. I uh, I’m used to handling things around here sick and all,” Lupe says. “I don’t wanna get you sick too.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Jess says. 

“I mind. It’s bad ‘nough I’m canceling on you again,” Lupe says. “I don’t want you to have to interrupt the rest of your day to bring me anything. I… I probably have something in the fridge, and I can always put a grocery order in.” 

“I really don’t mind, Lu. Just text me some things you need, and if you don’t, I’ll bring you things anyways,” Jess says.

Lupe isn’t in a state to argue. She takes a deep breath and nods. 

“I need more cough syrup… and maybe gatorade, blue ones… And uh, oranges,” Lupe says, trying to recall what was in her kitchen while she was watching Alma pack her lunch. 

“I have canned soup here though, so don’t worry about that.” 

“Oh, I won’t be worrying about canned soup,” Jess replies. “Okay, cough syrup, gatorade, and oranges. The delivery service will be there shortly.” 

“Thanks, ‘Cready,” Lupe says. She doesn’t remember hanging up the phone as she starts to drift off again. There’s shifting on the other end of the phone for a while, but Jess never says anything. At some point there’s a soft hum of a melody, and then it disappears with a small shit and the ending of the call. By that point though, Lupe is already long asleep. 

She doesn’t fully come to when the doorbell goes off downstairs. Instead she shifts in her bed and crushes her pillow to her face. The doorbell rings again, and then her phone starts to go off shortly after. 

Lupe doesn’t answer the phone. She just takes one glance at the caller ID before she forces herself out of bed and slowly down the stairs, clutching to the railing as she goes. 

She unlocks the door and is met with Jess standing there with far too many grocery bags to have just brought her the three things she requested. She furrows her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything as Jess steps instead and kicks off their sneakers. They’ve got four plastic bags in each hand. 

“That’s not all for me, is it?” Lupe asks. She shuts the door behind Jess, who quickly locates the kitchen to the right without processing much more of the rest of the house. 

“I told you I wasn’t fucking with canned soup,” Jess says. They plunk the bags on the table and Lupe wanders over hesitantly. 

“You didn’t have to do any of this for me,” Lupe says. She eyes the bags full of various veggies, fruits and other groceries. “I can manage just fine.” 

“Just let me do this,” Jess says. “You can kick me out once I’m done making this soup, promise. If it makes you feel better, I’ll take half of it home.” 

Lupe hesitates, before she just gives a small nod. She’s too tired to argue, so instead she starts to carefully put everything away in the right place. Jess watches and catches on quickly, and gets almost all of the bags put away in the time it takes Lupe to go through one of them (mostly because she was rooting for the cough syrup). 

“What have you eaten today?” Jess asks. 

“Tea,” Lupe replies. 

“Can you handle a little bit more?” Jess asks. Lupe nods. 

“Okay, go lay down in the living room then, I’ll bring you a bit of breakfast and then I’ll make some soup and get out of your hair,” Jess says. 

Jess grabs one of the gatorades and shoves it into Lupe’s hand. She clutches the cool blue bottle with extra force so she doesn’t drop it. 

“You don’t need to dote on me,” Lupe says. 

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Just let me do this, okay?” Jess says. There’s a softness in their eyes as they look at Lupe. She can feel her body getting tired again, and the room isn’t entirely solid. They’re not at the point of their… whatever rekindling of a relationship they were in… for it to be easier for her to just accept the domestic gesture of Jess taking over her kitchen, but knowing she wouldn’t have to cook dinner tonight made her heart flutter just a little bit. 

She curls up on the couch instead of her lazy chair. She stacks two of the throw pillows under her head and wraps one of her quilts tightly around her. She turns on the game show channel, because it’s the only number she can think of when debating to change the channel, and then tries to pay attention to sounds of the kitchen while Family Feud players try to guess what things Thomas Jefferson most likely rode on. 

She can hear Jess riffle through her kitchen, but they never ask where anything is. She likes to think she has most of her things pretty intuitively organized, which she supposes this is proving true. Lupe curls up until the blanket is up to her chin, but there’s too much noise for her to actually try and drift off again. On top of that, she can’t help but keep thinking to Jess in her kitchen, doing things for her that she should be doing herself. 

After a few minutes, there’s a plate of breakfast in front of her and Jess settles into the recliner with a plate of their own. Lupe closes her eyes for a moment and then forces herself to sit up. A fresh wave of pain ripples through her skull as she adjusts, and then she takes the plate of eggs (scrambled with lunch meat and peppers, she’s pretty sure), buttered toast and sliced orange. It’s a nicer breakfast than what she usually makes for herself on a regular day, she only wishes she had the appetite to actually enjoy it. 

Jess watches her expectantly, so she takes a small forkfull with a half effort smile and eats the egg. They smile back and then turn their attention to the TV. 

“The game show network still exists?” Jess asks. One of the commercials advertises that the channel is all game shows, all the time. Lupe nods. 

“Never went away,” she confirms. “Pretty sure I’m their biggest supporter, aside from like… y’know, the grandmas passing the time away in their little retirement homes.” Jess snorts. Lupe crinkles her nose. It really isn’t that funny, but Jess seems to think so. 

“I think the last time I watched it was during our first tour… I was kind of a drunken mess most of the time, honestly. Guess it kind of made me feel a little bit less homesick at night,” Jess says in the most casual way possible. They shovel their egg onto their toast and take a bite of it like it was a totally normal thing to admit to. 

Lupe always loved watching gameshows, probably because her abuelo made her watch them with him whenever he was babysitting her. He’s long gone now, died when she was nine or ten, and her family never really cared to watch them with her. When she moved out to LA on her own, it was the only channel she would put on the television on the rare occasion that she got to choose the channel in the house (mostly late at night when she couldn’t sleep.) 

It took her a while to settle in with her roommates, but Jess was the first one to join her in watching them, and it quickly became a nightly occurrence once the house went to bed. It was such a minor part of their early friendship that Lupe had almost entirely forgotten about. Now, staring at Jess across her living room as Family Feud comes back on, there’s a familiar pang in Lupe’s chest, only this time she knows what it means. It’s just as frustrating as when she was nineteen, almost more now that she knows how they both feel. 

Lupe wants to share her own story, but her throat is already sore enough, so she just replies with, “I guess it never stopped being a comfort for me.” 

“It’s a good choice,” Jess says. 

They eat in mostly silence. When Lupe is done, she peels her blanket off and stands up to bring her things to the kitchen. Jess is quick to jump up at the same time. 

“Let me do it,” Jess says. Lupe brushes them off, and instead takes their plate from their hands. 

“I can do it,” Lupe says. Jess follows her to the kitchen and as soon as she sets the plates down, Jess opens the dishwasher. 

“That’s never worked,” Lupe says. “I just use it to dry the dishes.” 

She plugs the sink and starts filling it up with hot water. She grips onto the side of the counter as she pumps the soap into the sink. 

“Broken?” Jess echos. 

“Mmhm… Easy fix, just no time,” Lupe says. “Anyways, I can clean up.” 

“You look like you can’t even stand up right,” Jess says. They step behind Lupe and press a hand against the small of her back. Lupe tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out shallow and wet as she tries to keep herself up right.. 

“I’ve done a lot more ‘round here while a lot more sick than this,” Lupe says. Jess snakes their arm around Lupe’s waist and gently tugs her away from the sink. She doesn’t really resist it, but Jess probably doesn’t expect the lack of resistance, because the two of them stumble back a little bit together. 

“And you’re going to have to do a lot more while you’re sick when I’m gone. Let me do what I can to help,” Jess says. They rest their head on Lupe’s shoulder. 

“Gonna get you sick if you keep this close,” Lupe mutters. Jess just pulls her closer. Lupe closes her eyes. 

“Then go lay down, in the living room, away from me,” Jess says softly. She wants to argue, but she doesn’t. Jess hesitates before they kiss the crook of her neck. “I came over because I want to, not because you asked me to.” 

“Fine, but I’m going to make it up to you,” Lupe says. 

“Yeah, when you're better,” Jess says. They release their grasp and Lupe wants to pull them right back into place. She doesn’t though. Instead she steps aside and lets Jess take over with the dishes. She tries to gather the pan and other small things up from making breakfast, but Jess ushers her out of the kitchen. 

She can’t deny the fact that laying down feels so much better than standing up, and her couch is a warm invite that she doesn’t feel guilty for accepting. 

She keeps the TV on low volume so she can hear what Jess is doing in the other room. She stares blankly at the show, but not a lot of it processes. This gameshow is more involved, but she can’t seem to understand what the rules are. It’s more athletics based. She would rather be watching Jeopardy. 

Eventually the sink drains in the other room, and instead of returning to the living room, Jess starts to prepare something else in the kitchen. Obviously it’s the soup they were talking about, but it still doesn’t sit quite right in her stomach. 

She rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. The TV cuts to commercial break. Jess brings cold medicine, some ginger ale and a glass of ice and asks if Lupe has a meat thermometer. They disappear back into the kitchen. Lupe sips at her ginger ale with a straw, leaving the ice to melt alone in its glass. 

She can’t remember the last time she had homemade chicken noodle soup. She usually just heats up the can or gets the packet of dry soup when Alma’s sick. She rarely has the energy to cook elaborate things from scratch. Theoretically, she supposes, it’s not that hard to toss all the ingredients in the crock pot and let it cook throughout the day. Which she does sometimes. In the winter, she likes to make stews as an easy, warm meal. It’s a good mealprep thing- a full crockspot would last the two of them a few days. 

She shouldn’t have ignored the signs. If she had listened to her body yesterday morning, she would have had the sense to go to the grocery store and meal prep. She knows how bad she gets when she’s sick. She knows how hard it is to take care of her daughter while struggling to breathe through her nose. 

At least she wasn’t twenty again, with a burning fever and a newborn baby that wouldn’t stop crying. She remembers laying in bed all hours of the night, barely being able to lift Alma from her crib. She was alone, not even fully moved into a shitty studio apartment after her roommate broke her lease (she didn’t want to live with Lupe once Alma was born, which, yeah hurt, but it was understandable). 

She remembers sinking, spiraling into dark corners of her mind, silently wishing for it all to stop. The fever. The pain. The crying. Fuck, the crying. She remembers almost passing out in the shower, the hot water rolling over her skin as the crying continued to roar from the other side of the open door. She remembers thinking it’ll never end, and regretting all of her decisions. She remembers crying because instead of enjoying life and going on tour like she dreamed she was alone dealing with a baby she was struggling to love. 

That was the night she got the call from Jess. 

They were so angry during that call, fumbling over their words drunkenly and not listening to anything Lupe had to say. She remembers hanging up and losing it more than she ever did during that stretch of illness. That was the last time Jess called her. That was her lowest point during that first year with Alma. 

Now this feels foreign. Jess is here, caring for her, not arguing through the crackle of old phonebooths. They’re working in her kitchen and bringing her medicine and food like they’re in some sort of deep, domestic relationship. 

It’s easy to keep her mind off of being sick when she has responsibilities to do. She should be the one doing the cleaning and the cooking, prepping for the worst because she knows it’s going to get worse before it gets better. She’s going to have to arrange to see if Esti or Alma can pick her Alma up from school and drop her off, she should be pre-making lunches or rescheduling her meetings. She should be ordering a grocery order and disinfecting the bathroom while downing cold medicine. 

A small, choking sound comes from her mouth as she tries to sniff, but her nose is packed shut. She reaches for the table and grabs a tissue from the table. She blows her nose until the tissue is full and then she abandons it on the table like the disgusting creature she is. 

It feels wrong that Jess wants to just come in here and play house. They’ve only actually seen each other once since their chance running into each other and that was just to clear the air. Despite all the texting, they’ve canceled and rescheduled what, eight dates now? It would make sense for Jess to be angry instead of tender. They should be off doing their own thing, pissed off that Lupe has to cancel again. They shouldn’t be in her kitchen making soup as if they have been dating for months now. 

There’s no reason for Jess to be understanding in this moment. They weren’t ten years ago, and they haven’t seen each other since then. Somehow, all the text messages and phone calls over the last two months have fled from her mind, and her mind is replaced with the hollow narrative. What has she done to deserve this?

“Okay so I’m just going to let the soup simmer and then… Hey, uh, are you okay?”

Lupe jumps as Jess rounds the corner, before they blink profusely and sit up. At some point she started crying, but she’s not sure when. She wipes at her eyes and nods. 

“Just… tired,” Lupe says. Jess frowns, before they take a cautious step forward like Lupe’s a wounded animal. 

“Tired?” Jess echos, like they know she’s lying. 

“I think the cough syrup is just making me feel dramatic,” Lupe says. 

“Dramatic?”

“I guess… Really, I’m just… used to doing this myself?” Lupe admits. Jess hesitates and then nods. They’re quiet for a second before they cross their arms over their chest. 

“Am I overstepping?” Jess asks. Lupe shakes her head and wipes at her eyes again. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jess asks. “I can leave the rest to you, it's not… You just need to watch it now.” 

“I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,” Lupe says. 

“I’m not,” Jess says. “Can I sit with you?”

“I’ll get you sick,” Lupe warns again. Jess rolls their eyes and sits down beside Lupe, wedging themself into the corner instead of sitting on the side with more room. Jess put their arm around her and she leaned up against them, careful not to put her full weight against them. 

The two of them stay like that for a moment, but it's not easy for Lupe to ease the tension from her body. Her mind is still swimming, despite all the communication and flirting over calls, she still feels like something's being held back. Jess isn’t hinting at what it is though- or maybe it’s just her own anxiety that’s causing her to sink and spiral. 

For fucks sake, all Jess did was make her soup. 

“It feels like this is just divine intervention at this point,” Lupe says suddenly. Jess shifts and squeezes her shoulder. 

“For what?” Jess asks. 

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s ridiculous how many times we’ve had to reschedule and you’ve been so understanding. I never get sick and Alma is fine and now suddenly here I am when we should’ve been getting ready for dinner or some shit. I just think it’s… I don’t know. Maybe it’s too much pressure or what but I just…” She clears her throat and reaches for her drink, sipping it carefully. 

“I didn’t mean to put pressure on you,” Jess says. “I don’t know. I just, I saw you and we talked and I kind of just- fell right back into the way I felt before. I didn’t want to waste time, but if you don’t think it’s a good idea… we can take the pressure off. We don’t have to do anything special. We don’t have to do anything.” 

“I don’t know,” Lupe says. She sighs and leans in a bit more to Jess, letting her weight fall back. “It’s been so easy just talking again, it feels like nothing's happened but… so much has happened.” 

“Yeah well, it’s been ten years,” Jess says. “But I don’t know… I think if you’re not meant to see someone again, the universe will make sure you don’t see them again, you know? I know things are different… I want to learn about how they’re different. I want to relearn you.” 

Lupe considers this, her deep inhale stifled by the clogged mucus in her nose. She coughs, putting in the effort to turn away from Jess, and then settles into her position again. Her gaze trails down to Jess’s jeans, and then she reaches over to take their spare hand. They give her hand a small squeeze. Her eyes lull shut. 

“I want to relearn you too.” 

“So let's do that… I think we’re doing a good job so far. I mean, it’s been nothing but communication since I asked you out. That’s a first step in the right direction,” Jess says. Lupe laughs. 

“Yeah, better than last time.” 

Last time, as if it had been something special. Lupe likes to think it was at some point, but their friendship as freshly young adults was fueled by a lack of communication, anger and repressed sexual desires. It wasn’t a luxurious time for either of them, as much as she wants to remember it through those rose tinted glasses. 

“So no rescheduling then, yeah? We can just… see each other when we can see each other. No plans, no dates, just us,” Jess says. “And… if it’s just as friends, I am okay with that. If that’s what-” 

“I want you,” Lupe says, and it’s probably the most sure thing she’s said all morning. She clears her throat. “I want to… pursue you, but I can’t handle the pressure of the plans.” 

“Okay. Deal,” Jess says. “Does this mean I don’t get to kiss you until a first official date can happen?” 

Lupe laughs. 

“I’ll kiss you the second I’m not contagious anymore,” she says. Jess grins, but Lupe doesn’t see it. She can feel it in their body though, the way their muscles shift and the way their cheek shifts against her hair. 

“I think you’re worth the risk,” Jess says. Lupe pulls away to look at Jess, a small smile on her face. Jess leans in for a brief second, but she pulls away a bit more. 

“Nope, gotta get better first,” she says. “But… if you wanted to stay while I had a nap… I wouldn’t complain.” 

“I think I can do that,” Jess says. They adjust their position, and Lupe curls up next to them like a pillow, pulling the quilt right up to her chin again. She lays her head on Jess’s chest and listens to their heartbeat. It’s far from perfect- it’s definitely not the most comfortable position for either of them, but eventually Lupe manages to settle and relax as Jess plays with the mess that is her hair. She watches the game show on the TV with distanced attention as she drifts in and out of a light sleep, before falling asleep completely against Jess. 

Chapter Text

“Hey Lu, I know you said you needed space and everything but I guess… I was just wondering if you were doing okay… I know you probably haven’t quite moved out of your place yet, so if you need help… Y’know, I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to have a truce, put aside the uh, the fighting and all that shit if you need some help. I just want to know you’re okay… This has been the longest month of my life, not talking to you. I just- just… Call me, if you can- or- or if you want, I guess it’s more of an if you want situation… Okay. Uh, bye.” 

Jess hates Carson. 

Maybe hate is a strong word, but they well and truly cannot stand her. When deciding on who to invite to join the band, it was almost a unanimous decision that everyone wanted Carson. Jess didn’t like any of the potential options that came to auditions that day, but after a certain point, everyone stopped listening to what they had to say. So at some point during the night they were making their decision, Jess relinquished their vote out of frustration and left early. 

Maybelle was the one to text them and let them know that it was Carson the band settled on. It wasn’t a surprise, Jess could tell by the intensity that Greta had been flirting with her that she would be pushing for the brunette to be hired. It had nothing to do with talent (because Carson was mediocre at best, she could play the music put in front of her but when it came to composing or improvisation, she seized up and couldn’t do anything inspiring) and everything to do with the fact that Greta wanted to get into her pants. 

Jess has no idea if she’s managed to do that yet, but they have no desire to find out. 

Once rehearsals with Carson began, Jess started keeping to themself a lot more. They stopped going out for drinks with the band as much, warmed up on their own in the corner while waiting for everyone to be ready instead of chatting, and ignored all but the essential phone calls. Once or twice Maybelle or Beverly reached out to make sure they were okay, and they dismissed them both without much of a second thought. Jess was as fine as they could possibly be in the given circumstance. 

Their rehearsals move from Maybelle’s basement to a studio space that the record label provides for them. Jess is pretty sure it’s because the label wants to be able to watch their process a little bit more before the tour starts, but it’s got better acoustics so Jess doesn’t complain. They still have six months before the tour starts, and two before the tour is even announced, but they have a handful of local gigs booked over the next few months, including some that are a couple cities away. These are all gigs that they had before Lupe left, and it frustrates Jess to no end that she’s not here to be getting ready for them. 

Jess sits in the studio, alone, while everyone else takes a break to go get coffee from a local coffee shop down the street. They play and replay the same riff they wrote yesterday over and over, changing notes and timing until they get something they like to repeat. They’ve got no lyrics, they never do, but they hum some sort of vaguely conceived melody over top of it before they notate the different variations on their tabbing paper. They didn’t know where they were going with this, but both Greta and Jo have been discussing writing new songs for the setlist but neither of them were actually making the move to do it (as far as Jess knows, anyways) so someone has to do it. 

They’re left alone for much longer than it takes to get a couple coffees, but they don’t mind. They keep playing, even as their fingers start to go stiff and sore from all the playing. It distracts them from their own thoughts and feelings, and it keeps them from stressing over the absence of notifications on their phone. Right now, they’re all supposed to be on a break because they still have another hour of rehearsal once they get back, but Jess can’t. Their body physically won’t let them. 

Their new experiment gets put on hold and they start running through other sections of songs; the chorus of Mother’s Daughter (even though Jess thinks that’s going to be one of the songs that gets cut, despite it being one of their more well loved ones in the scene, it’s so distinctly Lupe’s), and then the guitar solo of Down by Midnight (one of Greta’s newer songs, but pre-Lupe’s departure. They don’t mind the song, Lupe hated it), and then the verse and chorus of Heart Shaped Locket (one of the first songs they perfected as a band, but again, mostly Lupe’s work). They’re focusing so hard that they don’t even notice when Maybelle creeps in with a half drank coffee and an iced americano in her hand. 

“Have you taken a break at all?” she asks over the music. Jess glances up for a moment, finishes the last bar of music to resolve it and then they look up at Maybelle. She crosses the room and sits down beside Jess, before she holds out the iced americano for Jess to take. They give a tight smile and hesitantly sip at their drink. 

“This is my break,” Jess says. 

“No, it’s not. You’re doing exactly what you were doing when we were all rehearsing together,” Maybelle says. “You need a break just as much as the rest of us.” 

Jess shrugs. They sip at their drink again absently, before they turn their attention to the doorway. 

“How long until we’re back?” they ask. 

“Fifteen, I think.” 

“Great. I’m going to go take my break,” Jess says. They set their guitar aside and make their way out of the studio, right out the back door and to the alley to have a cigarette. 

“ Lupe. Lu… I’m not gonna lie I just kinda wanted to hear yer voice n’ the easiest- only way ta do that is to like. Hear your voicemail. That’s… crazy. So crazy. So… so, so, so crazy… Crazy. You got yer new place! I saw yer old ‘parment is like. Empty. Crazy… I went to the bar by there and walked past to get to the bussing stop… thingy tonight. Definitely not stalking you. Nope… Nope. Anyways, I know you won’t call back but you know the drill. Call me if you want.” 

Jess serquesters themself to one corner of the stage for most of the concert. It’s their first show since Carson’s joined, and the energy is different. Dottie Hinson’s marketing announced the tour a week before, and tickets go on sale in less than a week. Greta is excited because after the announcement, which included their name on the fancy poster, the last remaining tickets to their show tonight sold out within the next two days. It’s impressive, considering the fact that their music only exists as demos on self burned CDs and their self run, poorly coded website that Jo maintains. 

Jess can’t deny the fact that they feel better on stage. There is no Lupe to turn to on the other side, though. They can’t do their usual moves, grinning at Lupe as the two play at each other. They could sync up so easily together, but now they don’t know what to do. They’ve never been a talker on stage. They never sing, so they don’t really need a microphone. There’s nothing binding them to their spot, but they stay there anyways, even though their feet practically bounce at the need to move. 

Jo comes over at one point, and the two go back to back while Greta uses Jo as a prop for one of her songs, reciting an encounter with an ex-lover four months after breaking up. It’s one of Greta’s songs that they’ve added to the setlist to test out, one that’s been floating around and recorded but not usually performed live. The audience’s energy doesn’t dip, and Greta lights up even more while performing this one, but it’s undeniable the way the energy builds afterwards after they switch to one of Lupe’s well loved songs. 

“Now if you don’t mind… We’d love to test out a cover for you tonight,” Greta says. This is Carson’s cue to start vamping the opening riff to their arrangement of Everywhere by Michelle Branch, but she doesn’t, she’s just watching Greta talk. Greta pauses, before she clears her throat. 

“For those of you who don’t know…” Carson still doesn’t start the vamp like they practiced “- We are going on our first ever tour this summer as an opening act for Dottie Hinson!” Jess can’t take the silence, and they start doing the riff instead. It sounds wrong, because Carson is holding the acoustic and Jess has their electric ready for later in the song. Greta glances at Jess with a bewildered expression, but they keep playing. “Now who of you have been to one of our shows before?” 

A little over half of the audience cheers, and this is when Maybelle starts playing the drums. It’s only then that Carson realizes that she is supposed to be playing, and she jumps in, starting at the beginning of the vamp when Jess and Maybelle are halfway through the eight bar loop. Jess glares at her from across the stage until she fumbles and finally gets in sync with the two. Jess can’t stop fucking playing now though, so they keep doing the vamp with Carson and try to hide the way they’re internally cringing at what’s happening right now. 

“Yeah,” she laughs. “I can almost guarantee you that that’s not going to be that loud this summer. You guys are amazing, you know that? So here’s the deal. The audiences across the states aren’t going to know us, so we gotta play them something they can sing along to, right? So you guys are our practice. If you know this one, sing it as loud as you fucking can, alright?” 

Once Greta starts singing, Jess cuts their guitar out and Carson continues with it on her own. Jess turns to look at Maybelle, who gives them a small grin and then to Jo, who just gives them a look of confusion before she carries on her way as well. Jess glares at Carson from across the stage before they position themself on the furthest corner they can to start playing the second guitar part out into the audience. 

The cover leads right into one of their own, Breath In Shallow , and then Greta moves into her final speech. Jess does everything but look over on the other side of the stage. They drink water, they lean down and talk to someone at the edge of the stage who asks for the setlist at the end of the show, and they touch up the tuning on their guitar, even though it’s already perfect. 

“So if you guys don’t mind, we’d like to play you one more song before we go! We’ll be at the back with the merch as usual, stick around to say hi, get your tits signed, buy some merch, whatever your heart desires. But first, here’s Mother’s Daughter.”  

Maybelle kicks them off and Jess launches right into the song. They keep to their corner again, engaging downwards with the audience so much more than they usually would. Jess hates making eye contact. They hate having to interact with the crowd- it’s why they’re so grateful Greta is the frontman. It’s why they were so grateful for Lupe being the second person to guide the talk in between songs before, but now Carson doesn’t do that. Jo chimes in more, Jess will sometimes say something that just barely gets picked up by a microphone, but once they’re on stage, the music is the only thing that really matters to them. The audience is a distraction from the focus most of the time. 

At the end of the song, Jess gives their setlist to the person they promised it to with a wink, tosses their pick to someone else (it’s unlabeled, but it has a cool floral print on it) and then unplugs their guitar and takes off to the shitty greenroom in the back before the rest of the band has even gotten a chance to leave. 

They barely get a minute to themself before the rest of the band comes down, chatting and laughing about something. Jess puts their guitar in its case and locks it up, shoving the rest of their things into their backpack haphazardly. 

“Woah, Jess, what’s with the urgency to get out of here?” Greta says. “Are you not coming back out with us?”

Jess shoves their unopened gatorade from the fridge into their bag.

“I don’t have an urgency to get out of here,” Jess says. 

“So why are you packing your shit like you’re about to run?”

The anger is still boiling in their bones as they lock eyes with Carson, who’s been avoiding their gaze until this point. 

“I’m packing my shit like I’m pissed because someone fucked up the second to last cue,” Jess snaps. Carson goes pale, and Jess tears their gaze away to zip the top of their bag. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Greta says quickly. “You played it off well, I doubt anyone noticed.”

“Oh the crowd fucking noticed,” Jess says. 

“Jess I didn’t mean to- I got lost with the set list and I forgot we cut Borderline from the set last minute so I was waiting for Maybelle to start,” Carson says. 

“You didn’t think to check the piece of paper at your feet?” Jess asks. “Or I don’t know, listen to what Greta was talking about? You barely took your fucking eyes off of her, were you just watching her lips move instead of listening to what she had to say?!”

“Jess that’s not-”

“Jo don’t you dare tell me it’s not fair. None of us have ever slipped up like that,” Jess says. “Not on stage, and we can’t now months leading up to the fucking tour. What if people start talking shit about us? Huh? This tour is going to determine whether or not we get to make an album! If we can’t do our own shows flawlessly, how the fuck are we going to keep it together for the tour?!”

Carson stiffens up, holding their guitar close to their body. Greta grits her teeth. 

“It’s one mistake, Jess. It’s fine ,” she says. 

“Yeah, sure, but if I made the mistake, you’d all be bitching at me right now too,” Jess says. “You’re defending her because you want to get into her fucking pants!” 

“Okay, you know what, Jess?!-”

“Okay!” Maybelle yells, stepping between Greta and Jess before she could try and get a swing on them. Honestly, Jess sees it as a pity. They’re seething, Greta’s breath is heavy and low, her fist clenched. It’s a shame that Maybelle’s keeping her from swinging, Jess vibrates with energy. 

“We’re dropping this conversation right now. Mistakes happen, it’s Carson’s first show with us. Aside from missing one cue, she did amazing. She’s going to do amazing on the tour, we still have so much time to practice and work out all the kinks. This isn't Madison Square Garden, this is a shitty dive bar in Los Angeles.  No one here is going to think less of us for a small mistake, they probably didn’t even notice it,” Maybelle says sternly. 

“Jess, I understand your frustration, but you’re being unfairly cruel right now. We’d give you the same grace and forgiveness if you had been the person who messed up the intro. Carson, it was very frustrating that you missed your cue, because it threw the rest of us off until the chorus. You need to be more attentive to the set list and the cues. If you need us to run through the set list next time and go over who is responsible for what cues, we can do that. 

“I don’t want an apology from either of you tonight. We’re all going to go back out there and sell merch and sign fucking tits, and then we’re all going to go home and sleep this off. Once we’re back at the Studio on Tuesday for rehearsals, we’ll start it by talking about this, after everyone has had time to calm down. We’re in this fucking contract now, bitches, and I’m not starting a war from the inside before we even cram ourselves into the shitty ass van we’re going to be touring in.

“Did I make myself clear?” Maybelle finishes. Her arms cross heavily against her chest. She looks between the two of them, but it’s clear that the majority of this speech is targeted towards Jess. Jess lets their glare soften and they uncletch their jaw. 

“Fine,” Jess says. “But I’m not signing any tits.” 

“ Wow. Figured this would go to voicemail but I didn’t think you’d actually just send me straight to voicemail. What the fuck is that about, Lu? You can’t even give me the grace of letting me pretend that you just happen to miss my call? It doesn’t matter anyways, honestly I didn’t want to actually talk to you. I just figure you don’t actually listen to these and well. I think I’m okay with that. It’s clear to me now that whatever the fuck is going on with you isn’t going to change anytime soon, and you’re not letting me in so… It doesn’t fucking matter, does it?

“Anyways, you will never fucking believe what your replacement did tonight. She fucked us all up on a new cover we were trying out and missed her cue to start playing. The entire song, and the one after that was a disaster. Honestly, this girl is nothing like you. I started playing her part instead and then when she finally did start playing, she started bar one while I was playing bar fucking four. It’s ridiculous. And this was just on stage! You should see the things she fucks up in rehearsal when we’re supposed to be cleaning the songs, not learning them. The only reason why she’s even in the band is because Greta likes her, but no one else seems to see that. If they do, they don’t comment on it and I’m the one who gets bitched out when I point it out…. 

“Maybe you had the right idea. Maybe I should’ve gotten out when I could’ve… Or maybe you should’ve just fucking stayed.” 

Jess knocks on Beverly’s office door an hour and a half before they have to be on the other side of downtown for a photoshoot organized by Dottie’s team. They’ve been dreading this day since they were told about it two weeks ago, but they’ve been able to busy their mind with other woes. 

The first rehearsal back after the concert incident was stiff and awkward. Maybelle sat everyone down and they talked like a damn therapy circle, and ultimately Jess chose to apologize half heartedly, even though their feelings on the matter have not changed in the slightest. 

They’re not doing well, but they would never admit that out loud to anyone. A part of them knows that it’s already obvious, and no one has really said anything so it’s obvious they want it to go unaddressed. Jess doesn’t say anything more on the subject, neither does Carson. They keep a respectful distance from each other. 

Carson and Greta don’t stop their obvious flirting though, and Greta’s bias towards Carson is not well hidden, especially when they’re working on guitar parts. Twice Jess has to remind the two of them that Jess is the lead, Carson is the rhythm, and that they get to be involved in the discussion of their own part , even when it’s just regarding Carson. It feels like the two simply tolerate Jess, but they’re not going to stop pushing for their role in this band. It’s their band, damn it. They named it before any of these other members joined, and they had a say in the matters. 

Jess knows this is why they’re standing outside of Beverly’s office right now, but they don’t actually know what they want to get out of this conversation. Beverly doesn’t even know that they’re showing up, they just know she’s in the office.

 A part of Jess wants to bring up the fact that Greta and Carson are so obviously going out and how that could be dangerous for the band, being so new to the scene or whatever, but what is that going to get them? Carson is locked in with the contract. There’s nothing in the contract telling people that they can’t sleep with each other. Jess would be a hypocrite if they said something. 

They could just talk about the general hostility and how they’re worried about it for the general morale for the band, but that’s a stupid thing too. They’re not actively trying to sweeten the energy, they’re adding fuel to the fire but the thing is no one else cares. 

They could complain about Lupe, but that record has been played so many times that everyone has smashed it against the wall to get it to stop. It feels like everyone wants to pretend she just doesn’t exist now. Her name is a curse that cannot be uttered. Not around the band, anyways. 

They could talk about their feelings or their new song or the photoshoot or… or… or… 

Beverly opens the door with a warm but confused smile. Jess freezes, and shoves the coffee they brought for her into her hand. 

“I just. Thought I should bring this as a thank you for everything recently. So… Thank you. I’m going to go to the photoshoot now.” 

They turn on their heels and bolt down the hallway, mentally cursing themself for not coming here with a plan. They want something to change- they need something to change, but they have no idea how to make it happen in a way that will actually serve them. 

Jess gets a block down the street in their car when Beverly calls them. They’re driving though, so they ignore the ringing and just continue on their way (they don’t check the voicemail afterwards either). 

They roll up to the photography studio twenty minutes before their call time at nine am, but they go in anyways. They get taken to the back by someone at the front desk and are given a spot to sit in one of the nicely, feminine furnished rooms. There’s plush pink couches accented with metallic gold side tables and crystal accents in the chandelier and bowls of wrapped candies on the table. There’s flowers delicately placed and magazines on the coffee table. 

It is so distinctly not Peach Fizz’s aesthetic. It almost makes Jess’s skin crawl. 

Since Jess is here early, and the make up artist is ready, she brings Jess to the hair and make up room. She introduces herself as Marnie or Maisie or Millie, and then they start to talk about what Jess usually does for the stage. They explain that they do nothing, and she insists that Jess must wear some sort of make up, but they don’t, so they go back and forth for a few minutes. After accepting defeat, she explains that they still have to do a no makeup makeup look, because it’ll look better on the camera. They don’t have the energy to argue, so they don’t. 

Eventually the rest of the band shows up and they’re all bubbling with excitement. Jess presses their lip together in a forced smile, but no one notices. Jo and Maybelle watch patiently as the other two artists work on Greta and Carson, who are much more chatty about the band and the type of energy they like to bring to the stage. The team explains that they really want to lean into the peachy tones to contrast Dottie’s band, who did their shoot yesterday. 

In the end, the fems are dolled up in glitter and peachy makeup, though Jo does lean into the theatrics a bit more than Jess is willing to. The outfits are generic, again, nothing like what they usually wear on stage. It’s rare that they actually coordinate as a group, because everyone is just happy to show up in whatever they feel like that night. It reflects a little bit in their music, nowadays even more so, because they all like and listen to different genres too. It’s almost like they’re people in a band, and not a band designed in unity for the industry. 

Now though, they’re all in tones of white, orange, pink and red. Maybelle has red leather pants on with a lacy white croptop, Carson is in a short skirt that she looks severely uncomfortable in, Jo and Jess are dressed in almost the same t-shirt and corduroy combo, but Greta is dressed in a way that shows her off as the singer. Her make up is the most intricate, her dress the most thought out. She shines in it, and the photographer goes straight to her once he enters the room to introduce himself. 

Jess hates every second of it. They hate the belt around their hips, and the feeling of thick foundation on their cheeks. It almost feels like the weight of it is pulling their cheeks down. The bright lights are hot, the music they’re playing is uninspired. Posing does not come naturally to them, and they are adjusted microly by the photographer, while the others are cheered on with enthusiasm. 

They break for lunch, do an outfit change, another hellish photoshoot, and then the group changes back into their street clothes and are dismissed. 

They happen to be a few blocks away from Greta’s apartment, so after gathering their things (and Jess scrubbing the make up off their face) they all retreat there to order pizza and… hang out, Jess supposes. They almost don’t go, but Maybelle voluntells them to take Jo in their car, which is fine. 

They end up turning on some awful reality dating show while they eat their pizza and talk about the upcoming tour. They talk about finalizing the set list, and Maybelle brings up how cute they all were in their matching outfits, which makes them all talk about how it might be a good idea to coordinate stage outfits for the tour (which Jess thinks is stupid. They’re definitely not buying a whole new wardrobe for this tour) and then eventually they get onto the topic of transport. 

They’ve been told that that’s on them to figure out, and currently the general consensus is that the only thing that’s probably in their budget is a van that they can renovate in a way that can store and accommodate them for sleeping. There’s a couple cities where they’ll have hotel rooms, but those aren’t all of them. 

“Well, Charlie’s uncle is selling a Chevy Express for thirteen thousand… I bet he could get it down a couple grand for us. It’s already at a hundred and twenty thousand miles though, so it’s hard to say if it’ll get us anywhere after this tour,” Carson suggest. Jess furrows their eyebrows. 

“Who the hell is Charlie? ” 

Everyone turns to look at Jess, and they get the sense that they’ve said something very wrong. 

“My… boyfriend? I talk about him all the time,” Carson says. This makes Jess furrow their eyebrows even harder. 

“No you don’t,” Jess says. 

“Yes, she does,” Maybelle says. “He’s sweet. If you came to more of our outings you would’ve met him.” 

“Yep. Real sweet,” Greta adds, a hint of sarcasm dripping in her tone. Jess stares at Greta, trying to read her face but she’s completely neutral. 

It doesn’t make sense. The two of them have constantly, so obviously been flirting, but the entire time, Carson has had a boyfriend? One that’s been around long enough for Carson to be regularly talking to him? 

“Okay so what’s up with this Express?” Greta asks. 

“ You are not going to believe this fucking update, Lupe. Carson has a boyfriend! It’s ridiculous! I could’ve sworn she and Greta were constantly sneaking around, but apparently they haven’t been. Personally, I don’t believe it. They’ve been insisting that they were just friends but you should see the way they look at each other! It’s almost like how we- uh… Like when Chandler and Monica started sneaking around… I know you don’t watch Friends but. It’s like that. Anyways, call me if you want. Bye.” 

It’s a week until they leave to start driving to the first tour stop in New York, and the band has been rehearsing more than they ever have in their life. They’re not just rehearsing the set list, but the banter and what they’re going to say in between each songs. They’re running the whole set like an actual concert, and saving any of the notes, comments or requests until the end of the forty minutes. It’s kind of surreal, but Jess can’t ignore the excited buzz in their bones as they get closer to leaving. 

They’re still not doing well. They’re doing worse, but they still haven’t brought it up to anyone. Everyone has been so preoccupied with their own issues trying to settle things before the tour, no one has really noticed. Lupe still hasn’t contacted them. They’re pretty sure she’s got their number blocked or something, but every time they call her, the phone rings the full amount of time and they can leave voicemails. 

The van is almost ready, outfits have been planned for the bigger shows, but after a lot of bickering about outfits, they landed on at least keeping to a peachy colour scheme. Jess still thinks it doesn’t reflect their music- especially the songs that ended up on the set list, but they don’t say anything. They just bought some maroon and brown clothes from the thrift stores over the last couple weeks, mostly with the help of Maybelle, who sometimes seems to be the only band member still tolerating Jess outside of rehearsals. 

They decide to take a twenty minute break after running the set lists one afternoon. From above, they can still hear Dottie’s band running through their own music. Jess shakes out their hand and sets their guitar to the side. They grab their jacket from the corner of the room and make their way out to the back alleys without much of a word to the rest of the band. 

Jess was never a heavy smoker until recently, but they’re still moderating… fine. What was originally just one while having a drink turned into the occasional one with friends, which turned into an after show tradition with Lupe which turned into a lot more smoking in general. They flip open their half empty pack that they bought a few days ago, takes one, and then shoves the package back in their pocket. They light it, and then sit in the city in silence for a moment. 

They’re done with their first cigarette and moving on to their second when the alley door swings open and a girl steps out. She’s a little bit shorter than Jess, with short brown hair and freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. She’s in ripped baggy jeans and a well worn graphic t-shirt, with the cotton faded and the graphic flecking away. The girl doesn’t notice her at first, but when she does she jumps a bit and then she smiles. 

“You’re a part of Peach Fizz,” she says, pulling out her own pack of cigarettes. Jess looks her up and down again, but they don’t recognize her. She smiles. 

“Yeah,” Jess says. 

“I’m Beth, Dottie’s bassist,” she says. Jess gives a small nod. 

“Jess,” they reply. They light their cigarette before offering the lighter to Beth. She leans in instead of taking it, and Jess hesitates in confusion before they flick the lighter on and light it for her. She winks and leans against the wall beside them. 

“I know,” she replies. “We went to your show last month.” 

“We as in…” 

“The band, not Dottie, but she’s seen you guys a few times already,” Beth says. Jess blinks. They were completely unaware of this, they’ve technically only met Dottie twice since in the last couple weeks, but conversations were very small talk-esque, which Jess finds difficulty engaging with, and brief, stolen conversations in between their own breaks, or in and out of the building. Never once did she mention seeing one of their shows though. 

“When did Dottie see one of our shows?” Jess asks. 

Beth shrugs. 

“She likes going to a bunch of indie shows in the city. She always picks her own openers… She’s even got a couple of them signed to her label. She scouts more than the actual scouts do,” Beth laughs. “She loves you guys. I can see why.” 

“Oh well… I’ll have to thank her when I see her,” Jess says. They bring their cigarette up to their mouth again and gaze around the alley, ignoring the fact that they can feel Beth’s gaze lingering on their neck. Eventually, they turn their attention back to her as they bring their cigarette down again. 

“Could thank her tonight, if you’d like. We’re all going out for a little tour send off party. Dinner at eight and then club hopping, the Peaches should join us, it’s good bonding time,” Beth says. “‘Sides, we always like to get to know the other bands touring with us.” 

“I’ll let the band know,” Jess says. “Where’s dinner?”

“What’s your number, I’ll text you it,” Beth says, holding out her phone. It’s one of the fancy new ones with a touch screen. They hesitate before they take it and punch their number into a contact page. They give a tight smile as they hand it back, and it’s reflected with a small smirk from Beth. 

“I do really hope to see you there, I’d love to see if you party the way you play on stage,” Beth says. Jess gives a small nod, not entirely sure what that’s supposed to mean. She winks again before she swings open the back door and disappears back into the building. Jess checks the time, curses to themself and stamps out their cigarette before they rush back inside, already five minutes late getting back to rehearsal. 

“Where have you been?” Greta asks. “We’ve been all ready to go into notes.” 

“Sorry, I was talking to uh, to Dottie’s bassist. They’re all going out partying tonight and invited us,” Jess says. The annoyance melts away from Greta’s face in an instant. 

“Really?” she asks. “Where?”

Jess shrugs. 

“She’s going to send me the information in a second, I think. They’re doing dinner at eight somewhere and just bar hopping afterwards. Said they all really want to get to know us,” Jess says. “Dottie’s apparently already seen us play.” 

“She has?!” 

“At least twice, apparently,” Jess says. 

“Well. We can’t disappoint her, then. Let’s finish up this rehearsal so we can go party, then!” 

“Hello, Lupe Garcia’s phone.” 

“...Lupe?”

“Oh, uh, no. This is her roommate. She’s unavailable at the moment but asked me to keep an eye out for a specific call. Is this Dr. Bradford’s office?”

“No. Just uh, just a friend. Do you know when she will be available?”

“She’s just in the shower right now… I can get her to call you back? Who is this?”

“....”

“Hello?”

“It’s okay, I’ll just… I’ll try again later.” 

“Oh, alright. Sounds good then.”

“Thanks.” 

Jess stares at their half finished beer, the lime still floating around in the glass bottle. The music is loud, the lights are bright and flashing and there’s a fog machine coming from somewhere. Truthfully, they haven’t been enjoying themself at all tonight. Dinner was good, if a bit out of their usual price range (thankfully Dottie, who is much bubblier when she’s not busy with other music work, insisted on covering for everyone), but with every drink it’s gotten more and more insufferable. They tried to hide it and dance with their friends, but the conversation with Lupe’s roommate kept playing in their head on repeat. They don’t know what compelled them to call her- they had actually been doing really good about not dialing her number in the last couple weeks, and the last thing they expected was for someone to actually pick up. 

The first bar was quickly abandoned because it wasn’t very busy, even though it was probably because it was still early. They all did a round of shots together, and then talked over a drink each and they were on their way. Now it’s nearing one am and Jess is more drunk than they’ve been in a long time. They swivel in their chair, their elbows on the high table placed right in front of a large patio window, which opens up across almost the entire back wall. There’s a cluster of people out on the patio, but most are deeper in the club on the dance floor. It’s thinned out quite a bit since they arrived here at midnight, but they can still spot most of their group scattered about. 

“Hello again,” Beth grins as she stumbles onto the stool next to Jess. She misses it entirely the first time, and then has to grab onto their arm in order to steady herself enough to hoist herself onto the stool. She laughs as she settles, and leans forward. 

“Hello,” Jess replies. 

“You’re not dancin’,” she says. “You okay? You’ve been so…” her hand trails down Jess’s bicep. The touch is too light, it makes them pull away. She doesn’t notice though, and grabs their hand with a firmer grasp. 

“Tired, is all,” Jess says. 

“It’s still early! ” Beth says. “Come on, let’s dance.” 

“I don’t really dance,” Jess says. They pull their hand away again, and grasp their bottle with both their hands. 

“Well what do you do?” Beth asks. 

“Write music,” Jess says. “I like to be the one who… who plays it, not dances to it.”

“It’s all one and the same, isn’t it?” Beth asks. 

“Maybe to some,” Jess says. 

“You’re the guitarist, right?” Beth asks. “Shame you’re not the uh, the bassiest. We could’ve been Bess and Jess, the bassists of the Peaches and the Hinsons. How cute would that have been?” 

Jess laughs. 

“Yeah, real cute… But yeah, lead guitarist… I write most of the guitar parts,” Jess says. 

“Hey, whassup with Carton? Car- Carson, then?” Beth asks. “She’s new, right? She replaced someone. Dottie was sayin’ that when she saw you guys play, there was a different guitarist that she really liked.” 

Jess huffs and downs the rest of their drink. They let out a small laugh and then nod. 

“Yeah, Lu. She found out about the tour offer and then jumped ship,” Jess says. 

“Why?” Beth asks. 

“I don’t know. Why does everyone keep asking me like I know? I don’t! I should know, I thought she would tell me but she hasn’t and she won’t and I wish everyone would just pretend she was never in the band,” Jess snaps. Beth flinches back. 

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry,” she says. “For… For what it’s worth, you guys are still great.”

“Just not as good as we used to be,” Jess says with a small nod. An awkward silence hangs between the two of them. Jess presses the palm of their hands into their eyes and takes a deep breath. Then they slide off of their seats. 

“Let’s go dance,” Jess says. 

“I thought you didn’t dance,” Beth says, but lets Jess guide her off of the stool and starts walking her to the dance floor. 

“Yeah, I don’t, but I really want to stop talking,” Jess says. Beth laughs, clearly missing the fact that that wasn’t a joke, but Jess doesn’t care. They take her hand and spin her on the dancefloor as the loud club remix shifts from one song to another. They dance together for a song, before Maybelle swoops in and steals Jess with a loud squeal. They end up joining the whole band on the dance floor, making a little personal circle with the two bands. 

They stay out until the bars close, and then the groups stumble out together onto the streets laughing about some interaction that Dottie and Greta had earlier in the night. Jess lingers behind everyone as they walk to the nearest bus stop, and eventually Beth notices and falls behind with them. 

“Did ya have a bit of a better last half of the night?” Beth asks. Jess nods. 

“Yeah, yeah it was fun. Just… tired.” 

Their dead phone weighs heavy in their pocket. It’s almost cruel. They spent the whole night lingering on the phone call, and it wasn’t until Beth, a complete stranger, pulled them to the dance floor that they had a moment of peace from their racing brain. She nudges Jess lightly and their hands brush, but Jess shoves their hands in their pockets. Beth doesn’t really notice and instead loops her own arm through Jess’s. 

“Yeah, me too. Where do you guys crash?” Beth asks. 

“Probably gonna-” Jess waves an incoherent hand. “-scatter to the wind.” 

“You’re gonna deal with your hangover alone? You don’t all crash in the same bed like a proper band?!” Beth says dramatically. Jess laughs. 

“No, we’re not that kind of band,” they say. “Those four might but, I’ve got… my own sleeping habits.” 

“Your own sleeping habits, hmm? Does it involve space for someone else in it?” Beth asks. Jess swallows. 

“Not uh, not tonight. Sorry…” Jess says. “Kinda… Getting over a break up.” 

“Oh. Oh, sorry, I just…” She shakes her head. “It’s totally okay. I just- I didn’t mean it in like a… you know, way, I just…” 

“Sorry,” Jess repeats. 

“I meant just like. You know, it’s nice to wake up with friends after the partying,” Beth says. 

“Hey guys! We’re all going to Greta’s for board games, you coming?” one of Dottie’s band members calls out to them. They look at each other, and Beth has a warm smile. 

“Guess that means the party isn’t over yet,” she says. 

Jess considers this for a second. 

“She has a really comfy pull out couch too,” Jess says. Beth grins and nods to her friend. 

“Fuck yeah, we’re coming!” 

They stumble into two different cabs and cram themselves into her studio apartment that definitely isn’t designed to host ten people. They stay up until the sun starts crawling up over the city skyline and crash in various states on the floor, the couch and the bed. For a few blissful hours, Jess’s mind never strays, and they end up falling asleep with their arm wrapped around Beth’s waist, their back pressed against Maybelle’s, who takes up most of the space on the pull out couch. 

“Hey, Jess. I know you’re probably getting ready to leave for tour this week… Maybelle uh, Maybelle mentioned that you were starting your drive to the east coast on Friday. I honestly haven’t been doing great, and uh, your voicemails aren’t really helping. I’ve been listening to them, I know you’ve been kind of using them as uh, I dunno, venting sessions or something, but I have been listening, and I’m sorry that I’m putting you through all this but it’s not all my fault. You’re also making this out to be a bigger deal than it actually is. 

“I’m almost ready to talk to you about… everything. I wanted to be ready before you left for the tour but I just can’t bring myself to actually talk to you, or anyone really. I’m just… I’m really fucking struggling and I don’t know what to do, and I feel like it doesn’t matter what I do, I’m still losing you and everyone else and it’s all my fault and I just… It doesn’t matter. Not really. 

“Please stop leaving me voicemails. They’re making it even harder to come to terms with… well, everything. I’m going to have to disable them if you don’t stop, and I really don’t want to do that. I’ll call you, I promise, and we’ll be able to talk and you can yell at me all you want but I have to be in the right state of mind to do that.

“I… I really care about you Jess. I wish you all the best. Break so many fucking legs, I… I love you- you guys.”