Read Online The Smart One by Ellen Meister - Free Book Online Page B

by her singing voice. She still had that haunting tone and seismic force, but her control was better than ever. And there was something else there, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
    “Powerful,” Teddy said.
    “Jeez, Joey,” I added. “That was amazing.”
    Clare agreed.
    “Would you sing the whole thing?” Alicia asked.
    That was all the encouragement Joey needed. She ran to living room, which was right off the foyer where we stood, and jumped onto the coffee table. Teddy pulled a tapered candle from a holder on the shelf and handed it to her, standing on his tiptoes. Grasping it upside down, she used the candle like a mike and launched into the song from the beginning, gyrating her hips and swinging her head like she did in the video. I could almost hear the drum beat, the guitars. Her charisma was undeniable. But there was a layer there that didn’t exist when she sang with the band. It was an emotional connection to the song, a willingness to go to the deepest part of herself and put it out there. It was riveting. Best of all, everyone seemed enthralled by the performance—they were connecting with her magic.
    From the corner of my eye I spotted some movement outside the sidelight window next to the front door. It was Kenny, getting out of his car. I hesitated for a moment, deciding what to do. I knew that if he walked in the door the spell would be broken, the performance interrupted. Joey was in such a special place that I thought it would be a shame if she didn’t get to finish out the song. So I quietly slipped out the front door and waylaid Kenny.
    “You can’t go in yet,” I said, pushing my hand against his chest for emphasis.
    “Why? What’s going on?” He stepped back and took in my appearance. “And what the hell happened to you? You look like a sewer rat.”
    That stung, but I couldn’t argue. My muddy hair was plastered to my head and my wet, filthy clothes hung down from my body like they were trying to get away.
    “I know,” I said. “It’s a long story. Just try to hang out here for a minute. Joey is performing for the Goodwins.”
    Kenny smirked. “The Goodwins?” he said. “Joey must be thrilled.”
    “Why?” I asked, knowing full well I was stepping into one of his jokes.
    “Because all she ever needed was a little audience.” Kenny approached the window and looked in. “God, she’s practically naked!”
    I looked through the window at my rock star sister, pushing her soul up from her pelvis to her throat and past the makeshift mike toward her rapt audience, and tried to shake some mud off my pants.
    Deal with it, I thought. He’s going to choose Joey over you, like he did last time. Why wouldn’t he? She was talented, charismatic, wild.
    And anyway, my feelings for Kenny were probably justphysical. He was, after all, gorgeous. Maybe not Roman statue gorgeous, but close enough. So what if I was attracted to him? I was a normal, healthy woman who hadn’t been laid since I dated Bart Flaum, the mattress salesman whose mustache dripped food when he ate.
    I still can’t figure out why I dated that guy. Was I so filled with self-loathing, or was I simply looking for someone completely opposite from my ex? Jonathan was an artist, with no appreciation for jokes. Bart was a joke, with no appreciation for art. Sure he was sweet and thought I was a goddess, but the guy framed bumper stickers and hung them on his walls.
    And I let this man go down on me.
    For some reason, this thought made me acutely aware of how dirty I was, and I couldn’t imagine what crazy explanations Kenny must have been imagining. I told him the whole story about moving the industrial drum out from under the house, and how my sisters ganged up to force me into the mud.
    “And I thought they loved me,” I joked.
    “They do love you,” he said seriously. “But they’re jealous of you.”
    Of me? Had someone kicked him in the head?
    “Hardly,” I said. “I’m the loser of the family,