Because Natalie understood that, and loved Tuesday, she let it go.

* * *

AT THE AIRPORT the next morning, Natalie grabbed a latte and a stack of beauty and fashion magazines and settled in to wait for her plane’s departure. That’s when her phone rang with a private number.

It was automatic for her thumb to swipe and take the call. After all, sometimes Paddy called from a phone in his dressing room or the hotel.

But it wasn’t Paddy.

“Natalie, it’s your father.”

She hung up and then with shaky hands, blocked that number.

Years ago, she might have listened to him, hoping he’d be calling to apologize for whatever he’d done to precipitate the call. But she knew better by then.

Her grandmother called next, and she let the call go straight to voice mail, and by the time her plane boarded, she was glad she let Tuesday convince her to take a Xanax when she’d arrived at the airport. She hated flying. Hated that loss of control.

But she was on her way to see Paddy, and that was worth it.

So she got on, slid the sleep mask over her eyes and settled in. Even better, she didn’t wake until she landed in Chicago and found the car waiting for her.

* * *

ONCE SHE’D ARRIVED at the hotel to freshen up and drop off her bags, she smiled when she found the tray with chilled juice and snacks waiting for her on Mary’s direction.

It was lovely to be taken care of.

Natalie did her best to mimic the stuff Tuesday had done with her makeup. She came pretty close, and once she’d swiped on some deep red lipstick, it worked. She’d just gotten a great haircut a few days before, so she managed to re-create most of what her hairdresser had done.

Her Tuesday-approved outfit was a pair of slim-legged dark pants with clunky boots. The bonus was they were warm, and she’d have some traction in the snow and ice. Her leather jacket was one she’d had since high school. A splurge of her meager summer job savings from a shop on Melrose. It had been worth every penny in the years since, though she’d had to have the lining done over twice; it was a great warm jacket and went well with the red T-shirt that mimicked the color of her lipstick.

She gave herself a look in the mirror as she slid on a wide cuff at her wrist and opted for studs in her ears instead of dangles.

No time like the present.

She tucked money into her pocket along with her identification and grabbed the credentials Mary had left, along with the snacks and headed to the car waiting out front.

“Wow, so did you win an all-access pass thing to this show?” The driver was chatty, which was fine because suddenly she was nervous, which was so stupid.

“No. I’m a friend of Paddy’s. The lead singer?”

“Ah. So are you a musician, too?”

She laughed. “Nope. I’m a librarian.”

“Really? My daughter is a librarian in Bloomington. Times are tough. Her hours keep getting cut. She’s doing the job of three people.”

“It’s really frustrating out there right now. We’ve got the same issues. Most libraries do. I love my job, but I do get afraid I’ll lose it.”

He seemed to take that little bit of sharing to heart, because when he pulled up at the back entrance, and she showed the guard there her credentials, the driver handed her a business card. “If you need a ride again while you’re here, give me a call. It’s cold, and I’m better than a cab. You be safe, all right?”

He opened her door after shooing the guard away.

She shook his hand and thanked him.

Luckily, she had some good directions from Mary so she managed to get inside and down and around to where the backstage area was.

And stopped as she took it all in.

Women lined the hall, some drinking, some lounging, some clearly on the prowl. Someone, or lots of someones, given the level of scent, was smoking pot. On one level that was good because it was a smell that always made her think of college, especially if there was a hint of patchouli involved. It also slightly masked the gross, flat-alcohol smell and the acid whisper of puke.

She made her way through the first hall and reached another checkpoint. There was a clog, again, mainly of women claiming to be on this or that list. Mary had warned her not to bother waiting and to push her way forward.

So she did.

One woman grabbed her. “Wait your turn, bitch.”

“I don’t have to wait my turn. I belong here.” She shoved past and waved her credentials, nearly slapping the hand of the woman who tried to snatch them.

“Seriously? Back up.”

The massive bodyguard sort of waded in, grabbed Natalie and helped her through.

“I remember you from the Seattle show.” He grinned, not looking nearly as scary. “Natalie, right? Paddy’s gonna be happy to see you.”

She smiled. “I hope so. Um...Ron! You’re Ron.”

“Good memory.” He tapped another guy standing there on the shoulder. “Take Natalie to where the band is. She’s with Paddy. This is Paul. He’s going to get you to where you need to be. It’s a bit of a hike.”

Paul nodded and pointed her to a golf-cart-type thing that was clearly built to move in these back hallways.

“This is a great venue because we can keep most people back there. Some manage to get in who aren’t supposed to, but it’s easier to control. Here we go.” He pulled to a stop in front of another checkpoint.

Their overhead for all this security must have been huge.

“Hey, Matt, I’ve got Natalie with me.” Paul indicated Natalie as he spoke to the guy at the checkpoint. “She’s Green access.”