“Sounds fuckin’ cool,” Twyla decreed.

“Uh, would everyone stop cussin’ around my kid?” Bubba asked impatiently.

“Dude, you’re bringin’ her to a freakin’ rock concert. And whatever Lacey Town does. What’s that called?” Twyla asked me. “Hip hop?”

“R&B,” I answered.

“And that,” Twyla said to Bubba.

“She likes loud music,” Krys declared, moving to her baby girl, putting out a finger that Breanne instantly grabbed. Krys dropped her face in her little one’s, sing-songing, “Don’t you, Bree? You’re like your momma. The louder, the better.”

Breanne giggled her agreement, shaking her momma’s finger excitedly then letting her go and reaching out with both hands.

Krys took her. The handoff complete, Bubba moved to the refreshment area.

He grabbed a Coke and popped it open.

“Lotsa flowers,” Ty muttered, having lounged in an armchair, his arm curled around Lexie’s hips where she was seated on the arm at his side.

“Yep,” I agreed.

“Folks wantin’ you back in the business?” Chace asked.

I shook my head and started pointing, counting them down.

“Dana, for doing this. Joss, to break a leg. Lacey, because we do that, big gig, a massive spray of flowers. I did it for her too. Mr. T, because his assistant sees to that kinda thing for him. Mav, because he’s finally got his head out of his ass.” My voice dipped and I pointed to some exquisite red roses, but my eyes shifted to Deke. “Deke.” I grinned at him before I pointed to the last. “And my girl Bianca because she’s not gonna be here but she wants to be here in spirit.”

“This is probably good,” Chace muttered.

“This is definitely good,” Deke muttered back.

In the interim, especially after what happened at my house, calls had been made and texts had been exchanged between me and Bianca. Once Deke was firmly on the road to recovery, a short conversation had been had that didn’t say a lot over the phone because I suspected she couldn’t say a lot over the phone and wouldn’t do it in person either.

But she was keeping her distance. For me, because at first I needed that to see to Deke. Then I’d shared it’d be best simply in regards to Deke.

Not to mention, because Joss had eventually phoned her, chewed her ass out about what happened to me and said she didn’t want to see her face again until she was ready (this, I figured, would last another week or so before they sorted it out and all was good).

And Lacey wasn’t speaking to her at all.

She’d get over it too.

Time.

Time healed.

I looked back to Deke, my eyes skimming his chest covered in a chocolate-brown, button-up shirt that looked hot on him.

Yeah.

Time healed.

“We should have bought her flowers,” Faye whispered to her husband.

“Next time, sweetheart. This time, looks like she’s covered,” he whispered back.

A knock came at the door and Twyla moved to open it.

The gal with a mouthpiece wrapped around her cheek looked at Twyla, swung in, found me and said, “Ten minutes to go time, Justice.”

I nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Grab some brews, we should get to our seats,” Jim-Billy ordered Tate, who now had his own beer and was standing by the mini-fridge. “I don’t wanna miss anything.”

“You need anything, Jussy?” Lexie asked.

I shook my head. “All good.”

“Right.” She jumped from the chair, grabbing Ty’s hand. “Up, Mr. Humongo. I don’t want to miss anything either.”

I slid off my seat, gave out hugs, cheek kisses, and when Krystal came to me, I said, “Love the hair.”

“Had to go rock ‘n’ roll,” she replied and looked in my eyes. “For you.” A pause as the attitude she held up as a shield to hold others back melted clean away and the love she had for me swept in in its place before she finished, “And for Johnny.”

I felt a lump hit my throat, bent into her and touched foreheads.

“Straight up, he’d love it,” I shared.

He would. She’d gone full-on 80’s video vamp, all blonde frosted flips and curls, teased so far out, it was ratted in some places.

She rocked it.

Dad would have loved her hair, but he would have loved her better.

She was his kind of woman.

She shoved her forehead in mine. Breanne beat my chest, Krys pulled back and I shot Breanne a wide-mouth-and-big-eyes goofy face.

She giggled again.

By the time they were all gone, the makeup girl was back and she slid on the headband which was a patterned scarf with a hint of braiding that had long ends that mingled with the back of my hair. The front of that hair was plaited in a fat braid from one temple across my front hairline to disappear behind my opposite ear.

The rest hung long.

While she did this, I didn’t pay attention to what she was doing.

I was alternating between watching Deke grin at me in the mirror and looking at the photo I’d stuck into the side of it, one of the photos from that night months ago at Bubba’s.

The first photo of me and Deke.

The first photo of me with my new family.

The stylist finished up by hitting my cheeks with some dewy peach and doing another swipe of lip gloss before she pulled back, scrutinized me from crown to shoulders and declared, “You’re good.” She straightened and bid, “Kick ass out there.”