Chapter 3

3.

Derek's iPhone, abandoned on his nightstand, buzzed three times in a row.

They'd already left for Coachella. I picked up the phone―screen cracked at the corner, a phone he still refused to replace―and typed in the passcode.

Vanessa's birthday. I'd overheard it from Jaden.

Vanessa's message sat in the family group chat. The one named "Desert Squad." The one I was never added to.

"Derek, remind Maya to pack everyone's passports. She's always forgetting things. Don't let her screw this up at security, lol."

At the same moment, a calendar alert hit my inbox.

Airbnb check-in confirmed: 1142 Canyon Road, Palm Springs. Three-bedroom villa with pool. Paid in full. Coachella VIP wristband redemption codes: five sets.

I put the phone back on the nightstand exactly where I'd found it.

Five tickets. Five codes.

None of them were mine.

Derek came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, toweling off his hair, scrolling his phone. His tone was casual, like he was telling me what we were having for dinner.

"I've got a band gig next week on a Coachella side stage. Pack my stuff tonight. Don't forget my vintage denim jacket. And the VIP wristband confirmation email needs to be printed. This is serious. Don't screw it up."

He lay down with his back to me, still talking.

"Pack Jaden and Lily's bags too. Let them see something. The desert art installations. The Coachella main stage. That's what expands your horizons. I won't let my kids end up like you―barely left the Austin city limits."

The words came out of me before I could stop them.

"What about me?"

Silence.

Derek rolled over. His breathing slowed into a light snore almost immediately, crushing that last pathetic flicker of hope I'd been holding.

I almost laughed out loud.

Maya Thompson. You're thirty-eight years old. Your Etsy shop brings in eight or nine thousand a month. You've got forty-seven open orders staring at you―wedding cakes, corporate dessert tables. You've been feeding a family of four plus a band that hasn't recorded half a sellable album. And you're lying here asking "what about me."

How did you let your life become this?

Six in the morning. The coffee machine hadn't even started. Jaden's alarm went off first.

Lily was shouting from downstairs that she couldn't find her limited-edition Nike Dunks.

Derek shoved the bedroom door open. Kicked the bedframe with his foot.

"Go make some pancakes. Lily's got soccer practice. Don't send her out on an empty stomach."

I got up. In the bathroom mirror, the woman staring back at me had red-rimmed eyes. But they were dry.

The next two days, I moved like a programmed machine.

I dragged out everyone's luggage. Packed. Sorted. Labeled.

Derek's vintage denim jacket on top. VIP confirmation email printed in triplicate, tucked into a waterproof document pouch.

They were so excited they nearly blew the roof off.

On departure morning, Jaden was at the breakfast table by six-thirty―unheard of―shoving a breakfast burrito into his mouth while showing off the Coachella outfits he'd been researching all week.

"Mom, you know Vanessa met Diplo at Coachella last year? The real Diplo. No joke. She promised she'd introduce us this year."

He chewed his burrito. Never once looked at me.

"Someone like you wouldn't get it. Vanessa says Coachella is a whole vibe. It's not your weekend Target clearance run."

Derek, pouring oat milk into his coffee, walked over like he hadn't heard a word his son just said. He patted my shoulder casually.

"Maya, load that last snack box into the car. Lily gets carsick. Make sure you pack―never mind. Vanessa already put gluten-free stuff in her trunk. Yours won't work."

I looked at him. The corner of my mouth tugged. I didn't say anything.

I drove the old Honda Odyssey and dropped them at the Austin-Bergstrom International terminal.

Vanessa was already there, visible from a distance.

She wore a Loewe trench coat. Celine sunglasses. Leaning against her silver Porsche Cayenne, phone held up filming. When she spotted us, she pulled off her sunglasses and waved.

Every face in my car lit up.

Jaden sprinted ahead. Lily right behind him. Derek smiled so wide the crow's feet bunched at his eyes, his step twice as light as normal.

Vanessa beamed and hugged them. Then she clapped her hands like she was inspecting the troops.

"Everyone check your wristband codes! If you lose them, I can't save you. VIP doesn't mess around. Lost is lost."

Three obedient family members dug through their bags and phones―I'd checked everything a dozen times at home. But when Vanessa gave an order, they snapped to attention like trained recruits.

It should have gone perfectly.

Of course, something went wrong.

Jaden's VIP wristband redemption code. Gone.