Джордж Мартин – Wild Cards (страница 19)

Now she was going to be late on the very first day of the biggest competition her band had ever been in. Way to make an impression, LoriAnne.

Good thing she’d laid out all of her stuff before she went to bed. But too bad she didn’t dare skip a shower—not after spending eleven hours in the car yesterday on the road trip from Folsom, Louisiana. And the award for Stinkiest Musician goes to … LoriAnne Broom!

No time to wash her hair, which sucked, but her hair was so darn thick and curly that it took a good fifteen minutes to dry. A freezing shower and a manic scrub of her smelliest bits took less than a minute, followed by a frenzied toweling off, a quick slap of deodorant, and a dash for clothes. She wasted two precious minutes trying to tame her insane cloud of curls before she finally gave up and shoved a sparkly clip into it to get it out of her face, letting the rest be a dumb brown curl-palooza.

She pressed a hunk of curls to her nose and took a deep sniff. Ugh. Smoky, but at least it was from wood and not cigarettes. Halfway through the drive to San Antonio, they’d run into a hailstorm so nasty that the band ended up waiting it out at Buck’s BBQ and Bait Shop. The food was great, but the whole place had smelled like mesquite smoke with a side of day-old minnows.

6:32 A.M. She was late, but maybe she could pull off being only kinda late? Makeup was a lost cause. She’d have to do it in the lobby bathroom after breakfast. Though she doubted she’d be eating much, with the way her stomach was busy twisting itself into knots.

LoriAnne slung her stick bag over one shoulder and her tie around her neck, grabbed her backpack, and spun to leave. Then stopped, door half-open. “Well, c’mon already.”

With a happy whine, the skeeter settled at the nape of her neck.

At the elevator, she jabbed at the button then anxiously watched the numbers scroll lazily up toward “7.” Eventually the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

The woman within the elevator gave LoriAnne a friendly smile. “Going up?”

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