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Right now, she and Cassidy saw each other almost every damn day. They played a couple more open mic nights and even booked a starter set on a Wednesday at Howler. They picked up a casual bassist called Eliza to join them for gigs, then had a new band with a bit of buzz behind them give them an opening set at a venue with seven-hundred people, their biggest show yet. There was a momentum happening that was palpable. Every damn show, Cassidy got better, shinier, more confident, cuter. She had crowds eating out of her hand and Kinsey got more and more hyped as she watched it happen.
Every other day they were rehearsing, writing, occasionally spinning up something magic, the kind of thing that made Kinsey dream big. Cassidy kept arguing that she wanted to be a country singer, that country was where her heart was, and that might have been true, but Kinsey was starting to wonder if it was pop music she had flowing through her veins. Guitarsy, lyrical, smart pop maybe, but pop all the same. They argued it back and forth but when they played it Kinsey’s way, the songs spoke for themselves. Already they had a handful of good starts, the rest of their sets padded out with covers, but at this rate they wouldn’t need them for long.
Kinsey and Lane had a vibe too, which Kinsey appreciated, bonding easily over a beer after most shows. It was a solid reminder that while she and Lane clearly had the same taste in women, Cassidy was thoroughly off limits. Not that it would have mattered if she had slipped up and hit on her bandmate; she knew all that would happen would be a swift rejection and red faces all round, a discomfort she’d rather keep out of their musical and personal dynamic.
Cassidy might be prone to the occasional blush around her, but it was clear she was beyond in love with Lane. It wasn’t wildly easy not to want to crush on her a little however, as she drifted dreamily into Kinsey’s apartment some afternoons, clearly freshly fucked and on cloud nine. And for god’s sake, couldn’t the woman wear a bra at least some of the time?
Cassidy didn’t seem to have normal-people concerns like rent or a day job. When Kinsey had pressed her on it one afternoon as they took a break, sipping sodas on Kinsey’s back porch overlooking the tiny bare grass yard, Cassidy had blushed, looking down at her painted toes. She told Kinsey how she lived with her sister and her family, rent-free, while she focussed on her music career.
“I thought you lived with Lane,” Kinsey said, confused.
“Sort of?” she said, frowning at the back fence. “Not exactly. Lane is my sister’s nanny.”
Kinsey blinked, trying to take that in. Cassidy had never given off the vibe of someone who grew up with money, but nannies were for sure a rich people thing.
“You seduced the help?” Kinsey faked a scandalized gasp. “That’s so fucking hot.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes and tried to look offended, then immediately relented.
“Oh my god, it was,” she stage-whispered. “You have no idea.”
“The temptation. The sneaking around.” Kinsey shook her head. “The naughtiness…”
“Mmm,” Cassidy had said, her smile suddenly private, refusing her further detail, even though Kinsey practically begged.
Lane had been barely more forthcoming when Kinsey quizzed them after the gig that night, though their eyes gleamed, flickering briefly over their girlfriend where she stood over at the bar, the bartenders practically fighting each other to come and take her drinks order.
“She’s hard to resist,” was their only comment. “Impossible, actually.”
Kinsey could imagine.
Aria had shown up that night too, this time with a date, a tall lanky Black guy with short buzzed hair and a grin that slipped out every time he looked at her. Aria introduced him as Franklin.
“You know, Franklin plays keyboard,” she said, her eyebrows raised. Kinsey and Cassidy exchanged a glance. It felt awkward having a date thrust at them as a potential bandmate. Who knew whether Franklin was good at keyboard or just in bed? Besides, their dynamic was tight. Too tight? Kinsey liked being a duo, but she knew more musicians would add a layer to their sound.
“We should hang out,” Cassidy said easily, and arranged an audition. Kinsey tried not to resent it. But when Franklin turned up, she changed her mind, quickly.
“You think Aria would lower herself to dating an amateur, let alone sending one to play in front of her friends?” he laughed, as he easily joined in, even his ad libs slipping seamlessly into their songs. They sounded even closer to pop with his addition, but Kinsey didn’t mind. Cassidy was clearly a little more on the fence but Franklin was also a nice guy, happy to come along once a week to rehearse and see how they felt with him live.
One Saturday afternoon, Kinsey answered Cassidy’s FaceTime to find it was Lane at the other end.
“Hey!” she said, surprised.
“Hey,” they said. They were sitting up in bed and looked pale and sweaty. “I have some kind of gross flu,” they announced.
“Gross.” Kinsey wrinkled her nose. “I’m glad you’re far away.”
Lane laughed, then coughed and winced.
“Are you free tonight?” they asked. “I have a favor to ask.” Lane told her about a queer youth center that they volunteered at. “I usually do an art class,” they said. “But it’s not really about that. It’s just basically being queer, and cool, and kind, and letting kids talk to you. Would you be interested? You could do, like, a song-writing thing or something?”
Kinsey considered. She had a gig that night, for the last of the other side projects she’d stuck with. It would probably be her last gig with them too, now that she and Cassidy were starting to get an increasing amount of work together. But when she checked the details, the time worked out.
“Sure,” she said. “I’m flattered you asked. Sorry you feel disgusting; you look kind of disgusting too, if that helps.”
Lane laughed again, holding back a cough.
“Don’t feel too bad for me,” they said, holding the phone out wide so Kinsey could see Cassidy was lying in bed with them, her head on their lap, blonde hair tumbling over her pale shoulders in a tight white tank top. “I have a hot nurse to take care of me.”