Today I think we made twenty bucks, and I’m wishing beyond anything that we would stop booking Saturday parties. But it makes my mom happy—some nonsense about the laughter of little children—so I don’t complain. The girls giggle their way out of the store, clutching their newly clothed dolls and touching everything as they go. My mom will spend the next two hours cleaning up the “party room” (formerly known as the break room).
I look up when Skye walks in, Henry tagging along behind her. “We missed you last night,” she says.
I search my memory but come up empty. “What was last night?”
“My band’s show at Scream Shout,” Henry says with a “duh” in his voice.
“Oh yeah. How’d it go?”
Skye smiles. “He wrote me a song.”
Henry sets down his guitar and plops down next to it. “We thought we’d do a repeat of the night.”
“Awesome,” I say, looking over the list my mom made of the doll clothes we were running low on and checking off the ones I’d already ordered.
“She sounds like she’s not excited, but she totally is,” Skye says to Henry.
“Totally,” I assure him dryly.
He strums a few chords. “Caveman has no life,” he sings. I throw my pen at him, but then I need it back so I walk to where it landed on the floor behind him and pick it up.
Skye laughs. “She has a life, Henry. It’s just a boring one.”
“Considering I’m with you half the time, Skye, I’d watch what you say.”
“Caveman has a boring life,” he sings. “She needs some toil and strife.”
“No, I’m fine with boringness, thank you.” In fact I’ve settled into my monotonous life pretty well, only feeling the urge to rip my hair out about once a week now.
Skye straightens a doll on the shelf beside her. “But seriously, Caymen, you should’ve come last night. Why didn’t you?”
“What time did you get home?” I ask.
“I don’t know . . . two-ish.”
“And that’s why I didn’t go. I had to work this morning.”
“It’s like she’s a grown-up already,” Henry says.
Who asked you?
“Play her a song, Henry. A real one.”
“Okay.”
As he starts to play Skye grabs the paper from my hands and puts it on the counter. “Just take a little break.” She drags me to the floor in front of Henry. While he sings she looks over at me. “Oh, someone asked about you last night.”
“Where?”
“At Scream Shout.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, some kid who looked like he could’ve owned the place. Dressed like a fancy-pants. Super white teeth.”
For some reason this news sends a jolt of fear through me. “Xander?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. He didn’t say his name.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, I overheard him talking to some guy behind me. He said, ‘Do you know a girl named Caymen?’ The guy said he didn’t. When I turned around to tell him I knew you he was already walking away.”
“And he left?”
“No, he stayed for a while, listened to Henry play, ordered a soda. Then he left.”
Xander was looking for me. Not good. Mr. Rich and his completely over-the-top lifestyle need to stay away. “Was he alone?”
“No. Some girl was with him. She had short dark hair. Looked like she was bored.”
His cousin maybe? I shrug.
“Who is he?”
“Just the grandson of some customer.”
“The rich grandson of some rich customer?”
“Yeah.”
“We should have more rich friends. It would take our entertainment to the next level.”
“What are you talking about?” I point to Henry. “This is completely high-class. We have our own personal musician.”
“You guys aren’t even listening to my song,” Henry complains.
“Sorry. It sounds great, babe.”
He stops playing and returns his guitar to the case. “Caveman, I’m going to do you a favor.”
“Please don’t.”
“Hear me out. I’m going to set you up with a friend. We can double.” He looks at Skye. “Tic. He’s the lead singer of Crusty Toads.”
Skye gets a huge smile. “Oh yeah, he’s so cool. You’ll love him, Caymen.”
“Tick? As in a blood-sucking insect?”
“No, as in a twitch. A tic.” He blinks hard, imitating what I assume is a twitch. “It’s not his real name.”
“No kidding,” I say.
“It’s true. But I forgot his real name. Seriously, you guys would be perfect for each other. You’ll like him.”
I stand and grab my paper again. “No. I don’t want to go out.” And I definitely don’t want to go on a blind date with someone named Tic who Henry thinks is perfect for me.
“Please, please, please,” Skye begs, tugging on my arm.
“I don’t even know the guy. I’ll feel pathetic.”
“We can change that. I’ll send him in your store one day this week to say hi,” Henry says.
I whirl on him. “Don’t you dare.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” he says with a laugh.