I sit on the bed, looking out the window of Meredith Willson Residence Hall and onto the rooftop of the connecting building that is the school I love so much. Then I stand up and walk to the door when I hear a knock. It’s my mother; I know it is. I hold my head against the cool, metal frame and take in a deep breath as I try to brace myself for what may come.

I open the door to find she is spreading fake sunshine through a smile. Her graying hair is piled in a perfect bun on top of her head, and she is dressed in an ankle length skirt and long sleeve, button up in May, perfectly proper.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, giving her a hug that I know she needs.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her voice hitches, and I hug her tighter.

“I’m so sorry about this, Tally. All of it. I—”

“Mom.” I give her back the sunshine as I throw my backpack over my shoulders and grab my large, wheeled suitcases. “I had a fantastic year. It just wasn’t in the plans.”

“God has big things in store for you,” she says, as she grabs the duffle that has all my dance gear in it.

“I know, Mom,” I tell her as I hold the door open.

We get to the KIA, and she gets in the driver’s seat.

“You sure, Mom? I can drive.”

“No, sweetheart, I have to do these things now.” She pauses and swallows down her emotions.

“I really don’t mind,” I say as I load my bags in the tiny back seat.

“I’m okay,” she says, and then the dam breaks.

When I walk over and open the driver’s door, she gets out, and I slide in.

“I’m sorry, Tally.” She grabs the small purse size packet of Kleenex and then blows her nose.

“Don’t be, Mom. I understand.”

The entire time we drive through the city, she has a white-knuckle grip on the oh-shiz handles: one on the dash and the other over the door. I am careful not to scare her too much, though. I know how she hates city driving. Heck, she hates driving period.

Once we make it through the tunnel and head toward Jersey, she begins to relax a little.

“I should really skip the walk. I should really stay home.”

Mom is going on a weeklong Christian women’s retreat with some of the ladies at church. It’s supposed to bring her closer to God. I hope, when she gets close enough, she can ask Him why He took Dad and left her penniless.

“The walk will do you good, Mom.”

Sunshine, always spreading sunshine.

“You can stay, you know. You don’t have to go with Madison and her family to Florida, sweetheart. It’s so hot there this time of year.”

I swallow back the guilt I feel for the little white lie I told her. I am going to stay with Madison, but her parents will not be there. Madison and I still talk all the time, and I certainly can’t wait for a two-week vacation with her on the beach in south Florida. I need some healing time myself.

I will definitely be entertained.

After unpacking my bags from the car, Mom makes me a peanut butter and homemade strawberry rhubarb jelly sandwich—my favorite from childhood.

She grabs the step stool and reaches above the cabinet for a coffee can and sets it in front of me. “There is four hundred dollars for you to—”

“No, Mom, I have—”

“There is four hundred dollars, Tally. I won’t take no for an answer. I want you to have fun, to be able to buy lunch or a pop when you’re on the beach, sunscreen, or whatever you need.”

“You need this, Mom.” I try to push the can back toward her.

“No. I need to do this for you, Tally. Let me.”

***

I land at Miami International Airport at eleven p.m. with my bag over my shoulder and a carry-on in my hand. Madison’s flight lands just fifteen minutes after mine.

Not needing to collect my bags from the carousel, I walk over and sit to wait. After half an hour, I look at the screen to see that her flight from South Bend Airport is delayed an hour.

I look at my phone, seeing I still have it set to airplane mode. Once I switch it, I see that I have several missed calls and texts from Madison.

I redial her number and she answers. “What a bunch of fucking shit!”

I laugh at her.

“I just want to get out of this hell hole. I can’t wait to see you.”

“It’s no problem, Madison. I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are. I’m gonna text Memphis and—”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to tell you. We’re staying with the band.” She says it so nonchalantly it’s as if I wouldn’t be bothered by it. “You still there?”

“Yes.”

“Are you mad?”

“Not mad, just wish I had known.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what their schedule was, honestly.”

“Honestly,” I say dryly, hoping she knows I am not buying it.

“I was hoping we’d see them. Hell, last time I saw my brother was on stage. Come on, chin up, Tally. When’s the last time you saw Memphis?”

I feel my face flush and am thankful no one sees my embarrassment. “A long time ago.”

“Well, I am waiting for him to message me back. I asked him to go pick you up.”

“NO! I can wait for you.”

“Nonsense, Tally. Who the hell knows when the plane will take off? Neither of us wants you sleeping in the airport.”

“Where are we staying?” I can’t believe I didn’t ask that before.

“85 Palm Avenue, Miami Beach. Google it, Tally. We are living it up for two fucking weeks. Me, you, and let’s hope some hot, hot men in super tiny speedos that leave nothing to the imagination.”

I laugh. “Gross.”

“No, girlfriend. So very far from gross.”

We spent the day on the beach, drinks in hand, nearly molested by hot-ass babes sporting dental floss. There was little left to the imagination, very little. I got head in the ocean, which was a first, and now I am pretty confident the two chicks who have been eager for my attention are on board with going back to the beach pad with me, just me.

“You guys ready to head back?” I ask River, Finn, and Billy.

“Yeah,” Finn said as he links hands with the tiny, dark-haired chick he is hooking up with.

***

After four and a half hours of no-holds-barred fucking, all three of our bodies are sweat drenched. This little ménage was sating, entertaining, and no doubt tiring. No-holds-barred, I laugh to myself as I smack the little blonde’s ass and think, no holes were barred, either.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” she pants, expecting me to dive in again.

“Sorry, babe.” I slam the nightstand drawer shut. “I’m out of papa stopper.” I grab the towel off the floor, run it over my hair, grab my wallet, and then throw a hundred on the bed. “Thanks for a very memorable night. There’s some cab money. See you around.”

“Is he serious?” I hear the brunette whisper to the blonde.

“Yeah, he is.” She giggles. “He’s a fucking rock star; did you think we were going to stay over?”

“Guess not,” she huffs. “But honestly, the band’s name is STD, so I didn’t think he’d be worried about condoms.”

They giggle, talk about me and my impressive cock size, and how they can’t believe they did what they did, and did it together. I feel a grin spread across my face as I continue listening to them through the bathroom door. It’s almost as good as the applause I get from the sold out crowds we have been opening up for … almost.

When I hear the chick banter end, bedroom door shut, and I know they aren’t gonna have to get the eviction notice in order to leave, I turn on the water and hop in the shower. Exhausted or not, I’m going to bed smelling good, feeling clean, and changing the damn sheets. Hell, if I was back in Jersey, I would be flipping the mattress, too.

After my shower, I dry off, throw on a pair of basketball shorts, and strip the sheets. Then I grab the clean set from the linen closet and half-ass make the bed. No flat sheet is necessary until tomorrow when I’m not feeling a hellacious hangover looming.