“Hi, Lena,” I said, shaking her hand. “It’s just Luca but thank you.”
“Well, Luca,” she continued, “you’ve got a few friends from your guest list here in the listening room already, so I can take you there to see them and do a quick sound check. Then I’ll show you to the dressing room where you’ll hang out till showtime. So, if you’ll follow me.”
“Of course.” I fell into step behind her as she led me into the main room where I spotted everyone.
“Let me take your case for you and put it on stage so you can meet your fan club,” Lena said with a wink, reaching for my guitar.
McKenzie, Mama Laurel, Grace, Dallas, Katie, Liv, Jax, Jo, and Derek were already seated alongside two other people I didn’t immediately recognize. One was a balding man who looked to be in his fifties, and the other was an elderly woman with dyed black hair who had to have been at least eighty. She wore a blue pantsuit and a jacket with beaded fringe dangling from the back.
“Hey,” Dallas boomed when he noticed me. “There he is!”
The entire group cheered as I approached, everyone taking their turn to greet me with hugs and fist bumps, but my eyes kept coming back to the oddly familiar faces sitting at McKenzie’s table with Mama Laurel, who beamed in her homemade shirt.
McKenzie had been first to jump up to kiss me hello, and she stayed by my side until the only folks I hadn’t talked to were the ones I didn’t know.
McKenzie gestured toward them. “There were a couple of special people who wanted to be here to help celebrate your big day.”
The man helped the lady to her feet, her fringe shaking as she moved toward me.
“Well, honeybun,” she said with a smoky rasp. “It’s sure been long enough, ain’t it?”
“Aunt Gladys?” I asked, her voice instantly transporting me back to my high school years, watching her play “Stairway to Heaven” every bit as well as Jimmy Page.
I looked from her to McKenzie, then to the man at Aunt Gladys’ side.
“Mr. Fink?” My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Hey, bud,” he said in that same warm tenor I remembered. “It’s good to see you.”
“Oh my God.” My hand covered my mouth for a second before I pulled them each into an embrace. “What? How? I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Your girl McKenzie hunted me down on the Facebook,” Aunt Gladys explained.
“Well, it wasn’t quite that simple,” McKenzie added with a small laugh. “I enlisted Jo’s investigative journalism skills to help track them down.”
“It was not an easy feat, darlin’,” Aunt Gladys said. “I’ve been through more than a couple name changes in my day. Mr. Hibbert died, probably about five years after I saw you last, God rest his soul.”
Mr. Fink rolled his lips inward and gave me a knowing glance like he’d heard her spiel a million times before.
“Then I met a man named Wallace a year later, married his dumb ass, and took his name,” she continued. “Let’s just say that was never gonna last. I have lived too long and worked too hard to put up with bullshit from any man. You know what I mean? Changed my name back to Fink for a while before I met my Larry three years ago. Anyway, listen to me rambling on like an old coot.” She placed her hands on my arms and looked me over, a smile spreading across her mouth. “Look at ya. Tall as a goddamn palm tree. Handsome. Talented. I always knew you were gonna go places, kid. I always said it, didn’t I, Kenneth?”
Mr. Fink nodded. “She did.”
“I’ve been following your career, and I can’t tell you how proud I am of everything you’ve accomplished, sweetheart,” Aunt Gladys said. “I hate that we lost touch, but now that McKenzie has brought us back together, I’m gonna be worse than a seven-year itch.”
“She’s not joking,” Mr. Fink deadpanned, and I laughed.
“I mean it,” Aunt Gladys went on, ignoring her nephew. “We’re gonna exchange numbers and talk all the time. We’ve got a lot of years to catch up on. Are you on the Instagram?”
“You know it’s just Instagram, right?” Mr. Fink asked.
“When you’re eighty-three years old, it’s whatever the fuck you want it to be,” she countered, folding her arms over her chest.
“I’ve missed you, Aunt Gladys,” I said, pulling her into another hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, darlin’.” She took my face in her hands and kissed my cheek, wiping at the lipstick smudge she left behind with her thumb. “Me too.”
“Luca, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Lena said as she approached, “but we need to get your sound check done so we can open the doors.”
