Sinful Ella (Seven Ways to Sin 6)

“He wanted me to—do things for him,” I said, my face flaming with shame and embarrassment. Martine looked unsurprised.

“Is that all?” she asked. “What did you say?”

I was shocked. “I said no, of course! I’m not going to sleep with a strange man for a record deal.”

Martine’s face clouded over. “Are you serious right now?” she demanded.

“I—yes,” I said, confused. “He was gross!”

“I don’t care if he had five heads and his breath smelled like old tuna!” Martine said. “He wanted to sign you. You should have done whatever was necessary.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you serious?” I asked, my voice small. I looked to the girls for their support, but they were both equally furious.

“I can’t believe you would do that to us,” Susanna said, her voice icy. “Don’t you care about the band?”

Tears sprang to my eyes. “Of course I do,” I said. “I just couldn’t do that.”

Martine shook her head. “I’m disappointed in you, Ella,” she said. “I thought I could trust you to put the interests of the band ahead of your own.”

“I can’t believe how selfish you are,” Susanna said, and Liz nodded.

I looked between them, horrified. “You really wanted me to sleep with him for a record deal?” I asked. Susanna rolled her eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she said. “I swear, you’re such a prude.”

Martine looked around and sighed. “He’s gone,” she said, disappointed. “Nothing that can be done now. We might as well go.”

Quietly, shoulders slumped, I followed the three of them back to the van, Susanna and Liz glaring daggers at me the entire time.

Back in the van, none of them would speak to me. Miserable, I curled up on the back seat and tried my best to get some sleep, all my good feelings after our first successful show were gone. This tour was not off to the great start I had hoped for.

Some time later, I awoke with a start as our van came to a sudden, stuttering halt.

“What’s going on?” Martine demanded.

Oscar, the driver Martine had hired for us, gave us an apologetic look over his shoulder. “The engine died,” he said. “I’ll have to call AAA. This may be a while.”

Susanna and Liz squawked their outrage and I sat up. “I can take a look at it,” I offered.

Oscar gave me a doubtful look. “You can?”

I tried not to let his skepticism get to me; I was more or less used to it by now. “My dad is a mechanic,” I explained. “I’ve been helping him out in the garage my whole life.”

Still looking doubtful, Oscar nonetheless popped the hood for me. It didn’t take long to figure out that the problem was beyond my ability to fix. I was shocked that the van had ever passed inspection; the engine appeared to be made mostly of duct tape. This was going to take a lot of time and money to fix.

I climbed back onto the van, shaking my head apologetically. “We’re going to have to take it to an actual garage,” I said. “The damage is pretty extensive.”

Martine swore. “Great. That’s just great,” she said. “We’re already behind schedule.”

“I thought you said you could fix it.” Susanna gave me an accusatory look.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought I might be able to, but the engine is practically falling apart.”

Susanna rolled her eyes and Liz followed suit. “Whatever,” Susanna said.

Oscar called AAA, who sent a tow truck to bring us to the closest garage. There, my assessment of the damage was confirmed: we needed a whole new engine.

“This is bad,” Martine confided to the three of us, out of earshot of the mechanic. “We don’t have the money to cover this.”

Susanna, Liz, and I glanced at each other. In their eyes, I could see echoes of my own disappointment. This couldn’t be it for us; this was supposed to be my big adventure. “So what are we going to do?” I asked finally.

“We have two options,” Martine said. “One: we give up, go home, do local gigs until we’ve saved up enough to try again.”

“How long would that take?” Liz asked.

Martine shrugged. “Could be months, could be years.”

“Years!” Susanna exclaimed.

“What’s our second option?” I asked quickly.

“I find you a gig here,” Martine said. “We stay until we’ve earned enough to fix the van, then finish the rest of the tour.”

“We’ll do that,” I said decisively. Susanna and Liz nodded in agreement. “Whatever you can find, we’ll do it.”

Martine grinned. “That’s my girl,” she said. “I’ll go make some calls.”

3

Saul

No matter how many gigs we performed over the years, my gut always writhed with nerves in the hours leading up to a show. This afternoon was the worst it had been in a while, as my earlier conversation with Grant replayed through my head.

I was worried about him. I knew grief affected everyone differently, but it had been a year since Bernadette died, and he was still as consumed by grief as he’d been the day he lost her.