He turns his head to see it, “It is. Been putting cortisone on it, but …” He shakes his head and shrugs.

“Might be turning into a boil. You want me to lance it?”

“Done that twice. I’ve had it for about two weeks.” He turns his head toward the shoulder and glances at it in the mirror.

I lean closer. It’s red with a pale yellowish top. Smaller bumps cluster around the edges, and the flesh around it is almost purple. “Since Mia’s death?” I guess I haven’t been paying attention. “Looks like a rash. Is it itchy?”

He shakes his head. “It used to look like a spider bite before I lanced it.”

“How ’bout some antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid?”

“Tried that. And hydrogen peroxide, and iodine and mercurochrome.”

I pull out a tube of triple antibiotic cream, twist off the lid. I wonder why he didn’t say anything. I guess he hasn’t wanted to bother me.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal. Just a pimple or insect bite.” He shrugs. “When’s everyone coming?”

“Next week. Mom and Allie arrive on Wednesday.” I wash my hands.

“And when’s the concert?”

“Saturday. Aaron’s mom, Sissy, is coming Friday. Don’t know when exactly Aaron and Tara and the rest of the band arrive.”

“Crew. Rap bands are crews.” He shakes his head, watching as I peel the paper protecting the bandage. “Imagine skinny hyper Tara a rap star.”

“You still think of her as five. You’re not fourteen anymore either. But they’re not stars. This is just their first national tour.” I smooth down the adhesive strips and rub the Band-Aid flat.

He winces.

“At least the pimple–boil–insect bite is covered.”

“Larry says they’re on their way.” Larry is the entertainment attorney Troy and I introduced to Aaron. “That number seven single makes them practically stars. It’s amazing that Tara and Aaron have pulled this off. Who’d have thought they’d still be together?”

The tenderness in his voice and his thrill at her success bothers me. “She used to have a crush on you.”

“She helped me woo you.” He rubs the mist from the mirror and combs his hair.

“Woo me? She wouldn’t get off your lap whenever you came over. You were the only thing that distracted her from her obsession with music.”

He pats the top of his head to get the few strands of his cowlick to lie flat. “That was because she wanted everything her older sister had. Besides, I didn’t have the guts to ask you to sit on my lap. I hoped you might follow her lead. And eventually you did.” He laughs.