Page 58 of Rock Hard


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“What’s with grumpy bear?”

“Not much, just an apocalyptic hangover,” Stig said, stirring his coffee.

There were few things stranger than Stig in the morning. Dressed as would be expected given his career, stirring his black coffee exactly thirty-six times. Not thirty-five, or thirty-seven, but thirty-six, every time. The tinkling of the spoon inside the ceramic mug provided the soundtrack to his ritualistic perusal of the business section, reading glasses perched near the end of his nose.

I suspected most people were surprised when he joined the band, the general agreement being that he could have done pretty much whatever he wanted. His parents certainly were under the impression that he was going to be a lawyer. It took a while, but they started speaking to him

again, particularly after they actually heard us play, and never really gave up hope, still mentioning it in passing whenever there was a family gathering.

The schedule was tight. We were to go straight from breakfast to the initial sound-check, Seth had planned for two just to be sure. All our gear was already set up but the venue staff. How we’d managed to fly into multiple cities without any of it getting lost or broken by the airline was a miracle to rival water into wine.

When everything was played and done, we were free to do whatever until two hours before the show, when we would do it all again. No one could ever accuse Seth of cutting corners.

Released into the wide world, I made directly for a café that I knew had internet, the hotel too far away to get back to the venture in good time, particularly if my mission was successful. I hadn’t spoken Stephanie since our skype-sex session earlier that week, much to my shame.

To be fair, it was mostly due to a really tight scheduling combined with a lack of domestic phone service, my American-based account not nearly enough to cover that kind of roaming. Were it up to me, we would have been back months ago. Then again, I would never have had the clout to book such an impressive tour either.

The moment had come. It was time for our sojourn to come to an end with a final show in our hometown. The turn-out was surprising massive considering they were mostly people who had known us since we were in diapers. It really should have been perfect, and would have been, were it not for one small but all important factor. An absence that made the world seem like it was slightly off-kilter.

It was like a vibration. A subtle wave, rippling through the air, quite apart from the blowback from my sticks. The song came to an end, allowing me the opportunity, to scan the crowd, certain there was a familiar smell, apart from the sweat and beer.

We were nearing the end of “The Northward Wind,” an appropriate sentimental song about returning home after a long journey away, as well as the finale, when I saw her. Front row left, flanked by bouncers to keep her from getting moshed. No doubt she told them who she was there to see. Moving as though by forces unknown, I went to the lip of the stage, as Varg and Stig basked in the adoration of the hometown crowd.

With the help of the bouncers, I got Stephanie, replete in a brand-new maternity metal outfit and all, up onto the stage.

“How did you get here?”

“Seth,” she explained succinctly with a laugh, “Have you ever flown First Class before?”

“Yes, actually.”

Seth had sent us off on every flight we had to take in style, which could help explain how issue-free the tour had been.

There was no way to explain it. A scientist would probably laugh had I tried. Still, the fact remained, I’d thought to bring one of the rings I’d bought off the Asgard site on tour with me.

A beautiful example of white silver, and blue sapphires, at first, I thought it was a sort of good luck charm. Only when I had the woman I was put on earth to love in front of me in that Bergman club did I truly understand.

Getting down on one knee, I slid the small black box from my pocket, taking her hand in the same moment. Stephanie must have had a similar source of insight, the tears already rolling down her cheeks.

“Will you marry me?” I asked, never one for flowery speeches.

“Yes, of course, yes.”

Sliding the ring onto her finger, I rose like the phoenix to a new dawn, I took her face gently in both hands and kissed her for the first time. Or at least what felt like it.

“Where are you staying?” I asked, when finally needed to take a breath.

“Where you are, I hoped.”

“Of course.”

I had no memory of the trip back to the hotel. Thanks to Seth it was walking distance, so I could leave the van with Stig and Varg, after making Stig swear on his mother’s life that he would drive. He wasn’t a tea-totaller, but sensible enough not to drink and drive. More than could necessarily be said for Varg.

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