Liam and Elly were still lying on the leather couch, both of them texting on their phones.
“Guys, what the hell?” I hissed at them while placing my guitar into its case. “You left Mason and I all alone and Bleeding Moonlight came up to talk to us.”
They scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide.
“Shit, were they cool? What did they say?” Elly asked.
My hand gripped the guitar case handle like a vise. “They’re still out there on stage if you want to go talk. They were nice enough, said they liked the set. Look, I’m exhausted and…damp. I just need to get home. You okay if I head out and take a cab?”
“Yeah, sure,” Liam said. “Head on out, we’ll wrap up here.”
I turned on my heel, grabbed my discarded leather jacket, and pushed through the backdoor leading to the parking lot, desperate for some fresh air to help clear my head.
The temperature had dropped, and I was shivering within seconds. I jogged to a cab parked across the lot, thanking my luck that one was still around.
As I climbed into the back of the car with my guitar, I noticed a male figure standing alone in the half-empty lot smoking. The cab moved toward him, and despite the tinted glass, I recognized who it was. The lead singer of Bleeding Moonlight. The one who’d stared me down as I sang, and the only one who hadn’t come up to talk to me tonight.
EZRA
“Damn it, Silas,” Cole cursed the guitarist as we exited the venue. “Couldn’t you have turned it down a tiny bit back there?”
Stepping off the curb into the parking lot, I took a deep breath and tilted my gaze up toward the stars that covered the night sky like a jeweled veil. There was not a cloud in the air, and even the light emitting from the Barnyard couldn’t dampen the sight. There were a lot of beautiful things about River Valley.
And a lot of ugly things, too.
Silas huffed. “I was speaking my mind. Is that not allowed?”
“Yeah, that’s all you do, speak your mind,” Cole retorted. “Sometimes, a more delicate approach is required.”
I wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but I could venture a guess. The night hadn’t played out like I was expecting, and for some time in there, while we were losing ourselves in the music, I had forgotten all the reasons I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying myself.
It was difficult to stay impartial while watching the thrill of playing music, of bringing chords and words to life, play out across her features. That woman. I knew that I would never forget her face.
I glanced back at Silas and Cole, and some old part of me stirred, suddenly curious. “What happened?”
Cole met my gaze and scratched at a spot in the center of his chest—his nervous tick. How many people out there knew their friends this well? I guess most people didn’t end up in jobs that required them to tour for months within a few feet of a childhood friend.
“Silas asked her to help us with the album,” he said.
Bingo. “She was a fortunate discovery, I’ll give you that,” I told him, keeping my voice neutral. Stumbling onto a talented guitarist just as we were about to give up on ever recording our last album? Some would consider that lucky. Too bad I’ve never believed in luck when it comes to music. At least, not in the traditional way.
In my experience, we made our own luck, and behind every “lucky” break, there were years of hidden work that people were all too willing to disregard. Dozens, if not hundreds, of failed attempts. Months and years filled with rejection that only a few managed to overcome.
That’s why when I saw her onstage, I could hardly believe my eyes. We didn’t have to work to find her. She’d simply…appeared. Then again, perhaps we’d already paid our dues in other ways.
“It’s fine,” Cole continued as we approached the parked SUV. “I got her number. I’ll give her a call tomorrow and lay out the offer.”
“What offer?” Abel drifted from around the car like a ghoul, his hood pulled up and a lit cigarette in his hand. He shouldn’t be smoking, it was bad for his voice, but I held back the words that threatened to spill out of my mouth.
I wasn’t playing that role anymore. Not for him. And not for anyone else in the band.
The singer wore a tense expression, his gaze darting between Silas and Cole. I hadn’t noticed him leave the venue, but I hadn’t been surprised to see him gone when the show ended. It seems that whatever effect the show had had on me hadn’t extended to him.
“Dude, way to disappear like a goddamn ghost,” Cole said, ignoring Abel’s question and burrowing his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. “We talked to Adeline, the guitarist of the band. Would have been nice for you to meet her.”
Abel’s eyes narrowed. “Talked about what?”
The nighttime chill had long since gotten past my cotton T-shirt, but I knew this conversation couldn’t happen in the car if we wanted to avoid an accident.
