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“You’re right.” Michael’s fingers stilled. “I also haven’t gotten my band right either. It’s getting there, but man, you know how you just feel there’s some elemental piece that’s missing?”
Nick smiled faintly, thinking back to the early days of the current—and permanent—incarnation of Oblivion. Right after Jazz and Gray had joined to replace Snake, their drug-abusing drummer, they’d had some rocky times. Nick had hated that they contributed something special that hadn’t existed in the band before. In time, he grew to thank God for it.
Now he wished like hell he’d get the chance to just soak up being in his band all over again. To be grateful for it, to really enjoy every second because who the hell knew if he’d ever be in that same place again? With those same people. Rocking out to those same amazing songs.
The hiatus was due to end in a little more than four months. He’d made it more than halfway. He could hang on a little longer.
“Yeah. You know Oblivion’s history?” When Michael shook his head, Nick fiddled with the battered leather strap on his guitar. “How it started with me and Simon and Deak and Snake, but Snake had a problem with heroin and we kicked him out.”
“Zero tolerance?”
“Hardly. We kicked him out a bunch of times before it stuck. He was my best friend. Well, other than Simon.”
It probably said something about him that one of his best friends was dead and the other seemed to hate him. And the dead one had been suing him—and the rest of Oblivion—when he’d passed.
“Was?”
“Yeah.” Nick rubbed the heel of his hand over the same spot in his chest that always throbbed at any mention of Snake. “He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry. OD’d?”
“We don’t know for sure. I mean, someone knows, they did an autopsy. But I never looked into it. His body was found in the water. Could’ve been an OD, could’ve been an accident. Or a suicide.” Nick shut his eyes. “I can’t ask Chloe, and I can’t try to find out on my own.”
“Who’s Chloe?”
“His fiancée. The mother of his baby. She was pregnant when he died.” Nick set his jaw. “Remember those damn pictures you had your stupid PI friend take?”
Michael pressed his lips together and nodded.
“She’s the girl I was hugging. We go way back. She came to me for help.”
“Feeling lonely?”
“No, jackass. She needed money for her kid. Snake died and left her with nothing for her and the baby. Her son. He’s four months old now.”
Michael exhaled. “Rough start for a kid. Dad addicted to horse, then ups and bails on him.”
“We don’t know Snake bailed. He loved Chloe, I know that much. Loved her long before they ever hooked up. Hell, back when I was with her—”
“Hmm. You were with her too. Incestuous bunch. Is that how bands are supposed to work?” Michael shook his head and his blue streak of hair flopped over his forehead. “Everyone shares the women like joints?”
Nick couldn’t decide whether to deck the guy or agree. Because yeah, there had been times he’d shared with his bandmates. Not Chloe though. He’d only been with her once, and it had been before he’d even had a band of any worth.
“I’d never share Lila with anyone,” he said in an undertone, gripping the strap of his guitar until his knuckles turned the color of bone. “Not fucking anyone.”
“And Jazz,” Michael continued as if Nick hadn’t spoken. “Definitely know there was some sharing going on there too.”
“Not like you’re thinking, and actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t think about her at all. So would her husband.” Nick frowned. “You’re not saying you guys and Molly have…”
Michael snorted. “OurMolly? Ha. Yeah right. That girl is so focused she barely notices we have dicks. Sure, I think we’ve all had moments when it comes to her, but vice versa, nope. She doesn’t see us that way. She’s all about blazing her path, and we better catch up or she’ll leave all our asses behind.”
Nick grinned. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“But we’re missing something. We’ve got good people but something’s just not jiving.”
“Li said you want another dedicated guitarist.”
“Yeah. I do. Ryan’s been stuck on drums and he’s not too keen on grabbing an axe to suit the songs I think we need him on. He’s good, but his skill is more at adding layers to songs that need it. He’s great with arrangements, and he’ll pick up a pair of bongos if we need it or grab a freaking steel pedal, but I’m talking about someone I can go back to back with every night.” Michael dug out his phone and thumbed to some video. Much to Nick’s surprise, he hit play on a clip of Oblivion’s show at Red Rocks the year before. “Like this. This shit right here? Fucking magic.” The reverence in his tone at the dueling guitarists now filling his screen made Nick more than a little lightheaded.
