Strings (23 page)

When we reach the end of our mini rock
journey, the four of us look around like we’re seeing each other
for the first time. Toombs is no longer the scary guy I pegged him
for. He’s a musician. A rocker with not only a shitload of talent
but a shitload of soul. We’re connected. Like Jinx and Kate and I
used to be. Invisible strings. I guess you can find those bastards
in the places you least expect.

A collective sigh tumbles out of us, and we
all chuckle uneasily. The vibe on the bus reminds me of the morning
after when you’re not sure whether you should ask for a phone
number or get your shit and run like hell. My instinct has always
been to run, but today, I think I’ll stick around.

I bite my bottom lip. “That kinda fucking
rocked.”

Uneasy glances bandy between us. My
vibrating phone interrupts the awkward silence.

I unsling my bass and answer.

It’s Jillian. “They’ve admitted Rax. Doc
says it’s alcohol poisoning. They’ve got him on fluids, and they’re
pumping his stomach now. He woke up long enough to bitch about the
ambulance ride, which is a good sign. We’re lucky we called when we
did. If we’d waited much longer, he might’ve suffered permanent
brain damage. Or worse.”

I heave a huge sigh of relief. “Fuck, that’s
great news.”

She exhales. “There’s the matter of
cancelling the gig tonight. I haven’t been able to get a hold of
the club yet, but I’m trying to track down the owner’s home
number—”

“
Don’t do that.” Oh hell,
what am I doing? Something really fucking nuts. “I mean, you can
call them, but don’t cancel.”

Three heads lift in tandem as I make the
biggest fucking foot sandwich on record. I silently beg them to
forgive me while I sink my teeth into the toe cheese.

“
Let us go on tonight. Me,
Jinx, Shades, and Toombs. We’ve been practicing.” Sort of. “We can
play the gig—”

Toombs shakes his head and cuts off my words
with his hand. “I don’t play without Rax.”

I palm the phone’s speaker. “Tonight you do.
Just this once.”

He scowls. I ignore him.

“
What the hell are you
talking about, Letty?” Jillian says.

“
I’m talking about a
merger. For one night only. Killer Dixon and Cherry Buzz Float
sharing the stage in the wake of the accident. Come on, Jillian,
we’ve got fans here. You saw them last night. They loved both
bands. Don’t you think they’d rather see us play together than not
at all?”

Silence. All around. I don’t bother looking
at my bandmates. Or whatever they are.

“
I don’t know about
this.”

I don’t, either. “We can totally pull it
off. If we have to, we’ll dish out some ’70s rock covers. Everyone
likes covers.”

“
Yeah, but who’s gonna
play what? You have two bassists and two drummers. That’s not gonna
fly.”

I’ve got to make a sacrifice I don’t want to
make, but I do it. For The Rock. And for love. I want to share the
stage with Shades before I leave. Just once. My farewell to this
crazy, short-lived relationship that turned into the ride of a
lifetime.

“
Shades will play bass,
Toombs on guitar, Jinx on drums, and I’ll sing.” I’ve never played
a gig without my bass. Ever. But if I have to, I will
tonight.

She doesn’t answer.

“
Please, Jillian. We’ll
make it work. We’ve already started rehearsing, and it’s going
great so far.” Not
exactly
a lie.

“
My cred is on the line
here,” Jillian says. “I’m trying to break out just like you are. If
this backfires…”

“
It won’t. I swear to the
Flying Spaghetti Monster, we won’t let you down. Tonight we play
for Rax. And for The Rock.”

Jillian sighs the way she does when she’s
puffing on a cig. I imagine smoke pouring out her nostrils. Will
the dragon lady give us her blessing? I cross my fingers behind my
back.

“
Okay. I’ll talk to
management. There’s no guarantee they’ll agree, so don’t get your
hopes up.”

I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Thank
you, Jillian. Thank you for believing in me. In all of us.”

“
What makes you think I
believe in you?”

I grin. “You didn’t criticize.”

“
I’m biting my tongue.
Prove me wrong.”

“
Check in when you hear
something.”

“
Good luck.” The call
ends.

I face my new bandmates. “Rax’s gonna be
okay, but he won’t be leaving the hospital until tomorrow. Looks
like we’d better get to rehearsing. Jillian’s gonna try to work
something out with the venue for tonight.”

Toombs growls through a frown. “I’m not for
this shit.”

“
What’s the matter? Afraid
you can’t live up to Rax’s talent? Or that Jinx over there might
put you to shame?”

He clenches his jaw. “Neither.”

“
Then what’s the
problem?”

His head ticks to the side, and he reaches
for Rax’s guitar. “No problem at all,” he mumbles.

Jinx steps gingerly around
him, and he eyes her with the calculation of a predator assessing
his prey’s fatal flaw. When she passes by, I angle toward him and
whisper, “She’s
so
gonna show you how it’s done.”

The sly hunter’s expression slides into an
unnerving, diabolical grin. “I look forward to it.”

A hand on my ass
interrupts our
tête-à-tête
. “Know what, pussycat?”
Shades whispers behind me. He lowers the strap of my bass across my
shoulders.

I absorb the twin comforts of my instrument
and his tattooed arms. “What, hot cock?”

“
Your lyrical bling makes
my heart sing.”

I laugh. “Good. ’Cause I’m fixin’ to show
you how to play the bass like a man, motherfucker. Think of it as
Letty’s last stand.”

“
You have no idea who
you’re dealing with, foxy lady.”

“
Oh, yes I do. You’re the
guy with the magic hands. And other…parts.” I reach behind and
tweak his dick. “Todd Armstrong, will you rock with me?”

“
I’d be honored, Letty
Dillinger.” He brings my fingers to his lips and kisses each one.
Then he drags a wrinkled bit of paper from his ass pocket and holds
it before me. “How about we start with this?”

A smile spreads across my face, and I clutch
the napkin to my chest. “It’s about damn time you gave it
back.”

He leans into me and plucks the notes on my
bass from the song I wrote a lifetime ago at BAR-k. The rhythm
rattles the windows and brings Jinx’s and Toombs’s attention our
way.

“
You memorized it?” I say
over the loud groove.

He nods and rubs his cock against my ass,
nice and slow. “I figured you wrote it for me. The least I could do
was learn how to play it.”

My heart goes
pitter-patter
. What a
fucking guy. Truth be told, even though I never got a shot at it,
he plays the song better than I would have. He’s got a flair for
unusual improvisation. Just when I think the notes are going one
way, he fakes me out and takes them in a completely different
direction.

He’s good. Damn good.

Toombs grafts a line of musical lightning
into Shades’s rhythm. I lift the strap from my shoulder, careful
not to mess up Shades’s fingers, and arrange it around his neck. He
never misses a beat as I shimmy down.

While Shades and Toombs tinker with the
notes and riffs, Jinx taps out experimental bangs, beats, and
crashes on her desktop drums. The song evolves into something much
bigger and better than I anticipated. I stand before our motley
crew, singing and grinning from ear to ear. Shit. We’re a
motherfucking band.

At least for one night.

* * * *

We get the go-ahead from the venue’s
management and spend the rest of the day rehearsing. Between the
four of us, we put together a set list of easy ’70s covers pretty
fast. Jinx and I pick up a few Killer Dixon songs, and Shades and
Toombs learn some of ours. We manage to slap together three totally
original tunes that sound pretty decent. Thank God we can all play
by ear, otherwise, we’d be knee-deep in Shit Creek.

Well, we may already be there, but at least
we have paddles.

Good news is, Rax is resting comfortably at
the hospital, and the doctor expects to release him first thing in
the morning. They want to keep him overnight to monitor his
breathing and liver functions, but Jillian says he’s almost back to
his old asshole self already.

I wonder if she told him about the gig
tonight.

“
Hey, pussycat, what do
you say we grab a bite, then head in to set up?” Shades smiles, but
a hint of sadness peeks through the cracks.

I’ll bet my smile looks the same. Spending
the day with him, Toombs, and Jinx was fucking amazing. I thought I
knew what The Rock was with Cherry Buzz Float. Man, I didn’t have a
clue until now.

Rax will be back on his feet soon, and
Killer Dixon will be whole again. Cherry Buzz Float, not so
much.

But it’s better to have had the
experience—short-lived though it is—than to never have shared a
stage at all, right?

Still, my heart aches for the possibilities
within my reach that I’ll never grasp.

“
Yeah, I’ll go with you.”
I put on my coat and check my wallet. Yep, still broke. “Jinx, you
want food?”

She cuts a glance to Toombs, who hasn’t put
down Rax’s guitar all day, and shakes her head. “No, I’m good.”

I quirk a brow. “You sure?” I’m not wild
about leaving her alone with him.

“
Yep.” She gives me a
little thumbs up sign.

“
Okay. Call me if you need
anything.” I slip my last protein bar in my pocket on the way
out.

Shades and I hold hands as we walk down the
street. It feels so foreign, yet so natural. Like an ad for
feminine hygiene products.

“
So, your next stop is
Gainesville,” I say, making a point of focusing on the sidewalk
instead of on him.

“
Yeah, I guess
so.”

“
How come you didn’t freak
out when your dad cut you off?” I don’t know why I ask such a
personal question, but shit, I’ll probably never see him again
after tonight, so, what the hell?

He stops and faces me. “You still don’t get
it.”

“
No, I really
don’t.”

He flashes those pearly
white teeth, and a playful glint from his eyes bounces into me. “I
told you. I’m lucky. Always have been. I don’t let shit get me
down. Look at us. Where we are. I spent twenty-six years living in
luxury. Traveled the world, did things most people only dream of,
but I was never satisfied. Content, yes. But not
fulfilled
.

“
Then I meet you in a bar,
let you do unspeakable things to me, and fell crazy-mad—” He twists
his neck left and sucks his lip for a second. When his gaze swings
back into mine, it almost knocks me over. “I’m a formerly loaded
guy with about fifty bucks to my name. My band’s in the doghouse.
The tour’s falling apart. And I’ve never been happier.”

We stare at each other for a long moment. No
physical touching, but damn, he’s singing me a lullaby and cradling
my fucking soul with that look. Bare, naked, raw. Him.

“
What did you wish for
when you blew out your birthday drink, Letty?” He gently pushes a
strand of red from my face.

I halfheartedly snort. “I wished I could
make it big with my music.” I smack away a droplet that sneaks past
my tear ducts. But another follows right behind, and soon, there’s
a whole army of them repelling down my cheeks.

He tugs me into his arms, and I fall against
him. “The year’s only just started. There’s still plenty of time
for your dream to come true.”

“
Maybe.” I can’t tell him
I don’t want that dream anymore if I can’t share it with
him.

Shit, did I really just think that? What is
this, some plot by my biological clock to take my ovaries hostage?
This is not me. Letty Dillinger takes no prisoners, and she
certainly doesn’t get sappy over guys.

Except for Todd Armstrong.

I peer up to his calm face. I want to tell
him I love him. The urge to spill those cursed, radioactive beans
grows stronger every hour. Maybe it’s because time is running
out.

“
I’m leaving tomorrow. My
mom’s gonna wire me bus money to get home.”

He nods as if he’s not surprised. “I’ve got
your number.”

“
Next time you’re in good
ol’ Athens, Georgia, you give me a call. Bring dildos and plenty of
lube, okay?” I try to smile through the lame joke, but regret
catches my grin and twists it into a frown.

“
You may not believe me,
but it’ll work out. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. You’ll
see.”

I wish I shared his certainty.

He disco twirls me out of his arms like a
yo-yo, spins me back in close, and dips me within inches of the
sidewalk. He leans in for a Dracula-style kiss. I laugh around his
lips, despite my tears.

Tugging me to my feet, he says, “Come on.
Ulysses S. Grant is burning a hole in my pocket, and I wanna buy
you dinner, pussycat. You’re gonna need your strength for
later.”

I waggle my brows. “Yeah? What do you have
in mind?”

He leads me to the street corner, looks both
ways, and guides me across the crosswalk. “I was thinking we should
christen the stage before the gig. You know, for luck.”

“
What, like give it a
golden shower?” My nose wrinkles.