She shook her head—disbelief, not disagreement. “It was a couple songs. No big deal.”
Corin, who had a more caustic sense of humor than his twin, just snorted. “Bzzzzt!” he buzzed. “Wrong answer, try again––big deal. Way big deal. Biggest deal ever. It wasn’t just a couple songs, it was you finding the real you that you been hiding from your whole fuckin’ life.”
Lex scoffed. “You’re on drugs.”
“The video evidence, if you please, Señora Claire.” Corin gestured with a dramatic roll of his hand at Claire, who’d been recording it.
Claire stepped forward and squatted near Lex, cueing up the video and handing it to Lex. Who watched the entire three song video silently, eyes wide.
“I…” She seemed to have to gasp for breath. “I sound…like that?” Her eyes went to mine, still disbelieving. “That’s me?”
I nodded. “That’s you, Lex. The real you, all you.”
Liv had been hanging on the outside of the circle, watching and listening. She now came through, parting the sea of Badd and Goode with her slender form. She was crying, tears sliding down. Aerie saw her coming and moved aside to make room for Liv, who sat down and wrapping Lexie up in a Mama Bear hug.
“Your father was wrong, Alexandra,” Liv whispered. “He was so, so wrong.”
Lex pulled away, glanced at Charlie. “You told her?”
“Of course, silly,” Charlie answered. “Did you think I wouldn’t? Was I not supposed to? Would you have?”
“It hurt so bad, Mom,” Lex whispered, choking back a sob. “I thought I knew pain, but when Dad told me I was never going to be good enough to be a professional musician, I…I think part of me died. Because at that point in my life, my music was all I was living for, all I had to live for.”
Liv reared back as if slapped. “All you had to live for? What do you mean?”
Lex shook her head. “No, no. Nope. Not going there.”
“Lex.”
She shot to her feet. “No. Not another word. Not talking about that. Not with you, not now, not with anyone, not fucking ever. Yeah, I’m a fucked-up mess. Yeah, there’s a reason. Dad breaking my spirit and crushing my purpose in life is a big, huge, massive part of it. Yeah, there’s more. No, I’m not going to talk about it, so fucking forget it.” She grabbed her ukulele case—hard-sided, black, and hand-painted all over with pastel daises and roses and pieces of lyrics—latched her ukulele in it, and moved for the exit. “I appreciate what you’re all trying to do, I appreciate your…your support. But this was a mistake.”
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” Corin called out. “The Badd Clan has officially adopted you, Alexandra Rochelle Goode! You’ll be back, and we’ll all be here for you when you do.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, sweetheart,” Tate said, rubbing his shoulder, “But I’m not sure that was the best way to express it, in that moment.”
“Sure it was. We’re like an infectious disease. Once we’re in you, you can’t ever get us out.” He pointed at each person in turn, everyone who wasn’t Badd by blood. “You all showed up and fell in love, not just with one of us, but with all of us.” He pointed at the stairwell, down which Lex had vanished. “I can tell when someone’s gotten bit by the Badd bug, and she has. She just has to run away from it for a while. Sometimes it just takes a minute to really feel it.”
“An infectious disease, Corin, really?” Canaan whacked him on the back of the head. “I’m not a fucking disease, you idiot. You are, maybe.”
“We’re identical twins, you moron. Whatever I am, you are.”
I glanced at Claire. “Can you send me that video?”
She nodded. Then her eyes widened. “Does that mean I get your personal phone number?”
I laughed. “Yeah. And you can even use it to message me.”
“I’m getting Myles North’s phone number,” she said, doing a silly little dance.
Harlow faked a pout. “God, whatever. The second another famous person comes along, I’m no longer special. I get it.”
Claire shoved Harlow. “You’re old news now, bitch. I’ve been in the bathroom with you, helping you pee because you were drunk off your ass on tequila. You are officially no longer a celebrity, but a sister. Sorry.”
Harlow hugged her, laughing. “It’s fine, I’d rather be a sister anyway.”
Claire faked gagging, pushing Harlow away, who clung like a leech, laughing. “Too sweet, too sweet! Keep hugging me and I’m gonna barf.” She pretended to shudder as Harlow let go. “I’m allergic to sentimentality.”
Claire handed me her phone, and I put my name and phone number in it, and then she sent me a message; I saved her contact info and she immediately sent over the video. I had an idea brewing, but I knew I’d need a bit more footage for it to work. The trick would be to get Lexie to play and sing again, and to let me record her, and then put her out into the universe.
But first things first…I had to find her. Again.
Lexie
Myles, and everyone else, seemed to realize I’d been pushed to the max, and backed off the personal shit.
The rest of the week was just plain fun—the most fun I’d had in years, if I’m honest. Every day the Badds shut down one of their bars and had everyone over. They had several bars, it turned out—the original, Badd’s Bar and Grille; a second location co-owned by Bast and the triplets, Badd Kitty Saloon, where we’d met the first night Myles and I arrived; Badd Night, a third location owned by Bast, the triplets, and Zane, and was more of a live music venue than a mere bar. The newest location, and the first outside Ketchikan, was The Badd News Bar in Anchorage, which the triplets, Bast, Zane, and the two sets of twins all co-owned, run more as a franchise with
