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“Does that mean you’ll rebuild Shriveled Rose?” Riley asked.
Kale chuckled low. “Naa, we’re way too old for that shit. We’d been talking retirement for years and kept putting it off. It was always one more tour, one more album. Guess the universe made the decision for us.”
Silence descended over the room, stretching until Riley hopped off the counter and offered everyone drinks. The clinking of bottles rattling together as he passed them out was like music, breaking up the melancholy a little bit.
“Thank you,” Kale said as Riley set a peach tea down in front of him. He took a long drink before speaking again. “Did you know we were scheduled to play on the final night?”
Dez cracked a little half-smile and nodded. “Was so looking forward to seeing that.”
“Adrian Lee was looking forward to talking to you, and watching your set as well,” Terry said. “He spent a lot of years wondering what happened to the kid he gave that guitar to. After he gave it to you, there were some people who called him a fool, saying that there was no way that guitar didn’t end up in a pawn shop. He’d tell them all to go to hell. That the look on your face when you played it that night told him you’d treasure it always, but no way did he ever imagine he'd see it on a stage again. Why did you wait so long to play it live?”
Dez’s fingers traced restless patterns along the tabletop. “Needed to prove that I deserved to.”
“To who?” Kale asked.
“Myself.”
“He would have appreciated that,” Kale replied. “It’s what he would have done too.”
Dez made a soft, choked sound, nodding instead of using words.
“We wanted to um, well, we wanted to tell you how much he wanted to meet you and just sit and bullshit. Hear your story. Tell you his. Shriveled Rose wasn’t his first band either. We were his forth, actually. Guess some people found him too intense to play with. Too focused on the music and getting everything perfect for the fans. He cared about creating the best sound but also the best experience, and when he found out who you were, he started going back through magazines and different websites, trying to learn as much as he could.”
“I wore out all the magazines I had with him in it,” Dez admitted. “Especially the ones with his guitar tab. I’d listen to your music over and over, hoping one day I could sound even close to as good as he did.”
“He told me he thought you were better,” Kale said. “One of the best he’d ever heard. Said he was honored to watch those videos of you onstage playing the guitar he’d given you, rocking out for the world.”
“It made him feel like he had a small hand in that,” Terry said.
“There was nothing small about the influence he had on me,” Dez replied. “I just wish I’d gotten to tell him that.”
“I’m sure he’s up there listening. Just keep on playing your heart out the way you’ve been and know he was damn proud to see how far you’d come,” Kale said.
“T-thanks,” Dez stammered. Tripp didn’t have to see his face to know he was in tears at their words.
Kale’s hand had been on the guitar strap throughout the conversation, now, he draped it over the body of the case, and slid it Dez’s way. “We’d like you to do something for us.”
Nodding, Dez struggled to get the words out around several hiccups. “A-any-t-thing.”
“Play this guitar at the shred-off,” Kale asked. “It was Adrian Lee’s and we’d like it very much if you’d do tonight what he did for you all those years ago.”
“You mean…” Dez began. His hand had settled on the guitar case too, inches from Kale’s. Was almost like they were embracing the guitar together.
“See if there’s some kid in the crowd tonight with the same kind of potential as you had. Give him a moment to shine and that guitar as the motivation to see it through.”
When Dez didn’t say anything right away, Tripp wondered what the hell the issue was. Until he saw Dez swipe at his face, and Zakk wrap an arm around him, press their heads together and say something too low for the rest of them to hear.
“Yeah…” Dez murmured, then cleared his throat, his voice sounding stronger when he spoke again. “Would be pretty damned phenomenal to have a chance to pay it forward.”
“That’s exactly what we were hoping to hear,” Terry said.
“There’s just….”
Dez leaned and whispered to Zakk, but all Tripp could see was the side of their faces, not their expressions. All of a sudden, Dez picked up his phone and shot a quick text, followed by a couple more. Judging from the blips in between, he was receiving answers too, a smile growing on his face with every one.”
Kale had glanced Tripp’s way, one eyebrow raised, but all Tripp could do was shrug, because whatever was going on, he wasn’t privy to it either. “Please say you’ll do it. I can’t think of a more perfect place to find someone madly in love with the guitar and yearning to be where we are.”
“Nor can I,” Dez admitted. “But, it’s too amazing a moment to pull off by myself. Alone up there at the shred-off, it would just be me trying to gain the loudest cheers from the crowd. It wouldn’t be the same kind of special as it was getting to play a song up there with you guys, so I’ve called in some reinforcements.”
