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Ethereal, lovely, stunning, and always, always my Callie.
I feel like I should leave.
Get the hell out of here and not intrude on this special moment for her family.
Barry doesn’t give me a choice, though, and I can’t stand disappointing him—even if I’m being gutted in my seat.
He lights up like fireworks, lifting both arms and waving.
“Callie!” he shouts, roaring it over the crowd. “Hey, Callie! Over here! It’s Barry!”
Oh, fuck me.
People are already turning and staring at us, their murmurs increasing.
Alvin started reaching for the mic, but now he stops, turning back to whisper something to Callie, his face creasing.
Her, though...
She’s gone as pale as a sheet, staring at my brother grinning and waving like the overgrown golden retriever he’s become.
I sink down in my chair like my soul leaves my body, my gut twisting, covering my face with one hand in a hilariously futile gesture—but it’s too fucking late.
Those vivid, sparkling grey eyes dart right through me.
Her lips part, high spots of color climbing her cheeks, and then she does it.
She just stares.
I don’t know how to decipher her face.
How to tell what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling, or how badly she wants to murder me and what weapon she’s choosing.
Guitar on my skull backstage? A trampling by a pissed off crowd? Maybe a frigging candlestick?
Hell, let’s make my demise an old game of Clue.
It’s a lot more fun contemplating that than feeling my heart bursting out of my chest.
And it nearly does when her eyes soften, flicker, and she does the last thing I expect.
Smiles.
She smiles at me and thieves my breath away.
What the fuck? I can’t believe it.
Can’t fathom why she’d ever look at me like I’m anything more than the man who ruined her life.
Believe me, I’ll take it.
Slowly, hesitantly, I let my hand fall from my stricken face, lifting my head to look at her.
“Sorry,” I mouth with a sheepish smile of my own that splits me in two.
She ducks her head, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
“After?” she mouths back.
Goddamn. I have never, ever been this head over fucking heels in my life.
After.
She wants to talk to me after the show.
If I were a crying man, I think I’d be a red-eyed river right now. I just can’t stop this crooked smile that wants to leap right off my face.
“Sure,” I mouth with a nod. “After.”
Alvin gives her a long, concerned look, then takes the mic again.
“Well, as our friend in the crowd said,” he calls out to the crowd, “this is my daughter, Caroline. She’ll be accompanying me tonight.”
The crowd lets out a little wave of laughter and applause.
Callie lifts a shy hand, waving to my brother. “Hi, Barry.”
Barrett freaks, waving again with both hands and the most hyperactive, shit-eating grin in history.
At least our audience stops staring at us so much, turning forward to face the stage as Alvin speaks again.
“I’m proud to stand in front of y’all here tonight,” he says. “And I’m humbled to see how many of you came out to give this washed-up old fart another chance. I’ve been through a lot to get here. Been helped along the way by a ton of good people. Well, technically one high-handed asshole, plus a lot of good people.”
I can’t help my startled chuckle.
Yeah, okay.
He’s got me pegged, all right.
Right now, this high-handed asshole’s heart is overflowing.
“My bandmates can’t be here with me today,” Alvin continues. “When your life falls apart, you break a lot of things. Yourself. Your relationships with the folks who matter most. But you can also start rebuilding one day at a time. So this, me, right now...this is me returning the best way I can. Maybe one day me and the whole crew can rebuild some songs together. For now, for tonight, I hope I can play for you the way I used to. I hope you’ll enjoy the show. And I hope you’ll stay with me while I find out what it’s like to live again after almost ending up dead.”
I can’t miss the glitter of tears in Callie’s eyes as she settles on her stool and takes a few testing plucks of her guitar.
This is a big night for her, no question.
To be here with her father after everything he’s been through to climb back on this stage.
I’m so glad to be here with her to witness it.
That's why I listen, spellbound, as they strike up a beat and sing together.
I’m no stranger to Four Times Crazy.
They’re classic eighties. They were on the throwback stations all the time when I was a teenager, and they had some rocking hits.
This is something different, though—slower, softer acoustics, a song better suited to the way Alvin’s voice has changed with the booze and the pain and the years.
More importantly, it works.
It works in a beautiful, poignant way that turns these songs so many people grew up with into new tunes that honor the memory of what they once were instead of trying to recreate something long past.
