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Especially since he was one of the two guitarists.
Nick cleared his throat. “I didn’t want him to join at first.” Watching himself and Gray interact so naturally on stage was more than surreal. Only he knew how hard it was each and every time he had to get up on stage. He hid it from everyone as best he could.
Simon had known. He’d teased him about it and he’d helped him as best he could. But ultimately, his showoff best friend had been born for the stage and probably didn’t get deep down how Nick shunned it. He did what he had to do because music was his life, and it wasn’t enough for him to play in basement Laundromats. That didn’t mean he didn’t struggle with—and face—his demons every time he saw his face reflected in the shining eyes of all the people in the audience.
Now that he’d been given time away, he realized how much time he’d wasted. His fears had gripped him so totally that he’d rarely taken a deep breath and just savored the moment. He’d always been getting by and getting over and getting through.
And Oblivion was no more.
It would be again. Lila had a contract that meant it would be. But that was from a legal standpoint, not coming from a place of passion. Maybe they’d lost that. Perhaps the year apart would end up killing the magic they’d had and no piece of paper could legislate the failure the world had watched them become.
“No way. Gray’s incredible.”
“He is. But I was a dick back then.”Still am, he amended in his head. “I wasn’t ready to compete with anyone else. The guitar was my instrument, and Oblivion was my band, and dammit, if I didn’t want two guitarists, well then, there wasn’t going to be two.”
“Even though he’s amazing? And adding him brought so much to your sound?”
“Yeah, well, it took me awhile to reach the point of caring about what was actually good for the band. At first all that mattered was that I hadn’t come up with the idea and I didn’t think it was necessary, so fuck off. But Jazz and Gray came as a matched set, and we needed a drummer. We needed her.”
“Hell yeah, she’s hot as fuck.” Michael cleared his throat at Nick’s cool look. “Seriously talented too.”
“Uh-huh. So we took them both. And they changed everything.”
“Some Fleetwood Mac shit for the new generation,” Michael mused, rubbing his scruffy chin.
Nick ignored him. “Point being, sometimes you don’t know exactly what you need until it finds you.”
“Maybe not, but in this case, I do. We need another guitarist.”
Nick slid his guitar down between his knees and pulled out his phone. He scrolled to a clip he’d recorded last week and pressed play. The acoustic version of “Simple Man” was stripped down and bare bones, as was the soft, hesitant female voice that came with it. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to record it at all, because he’d damn well known she didn’t expect him to. They’d started playing together again last winter, and she’d still tell anyone who asked, including Lila, that she was just playing as a lark. It didn’t mean anything. She was just using the guitar as a way to fill some hours when she wasn’t taking care of their father.
But Nick knew. He knew, because he recognized the same hunger in the eyes so much like his own. He might as well be looking in a mirror.
“Wow. Who’s that?” Michael leaned closer, wanting to see the video that went with the song. He got a glimpse of long blond hair shielding her face before Nick slid his thumb over the image and tucked her away.
His heart was beating way too fast. As fast as if he’d been auditioning himself, and that was just crazy. She didn’t even know he’d mentioned her to Michael. Hell, he hadn’t even been aware he was going to do it until right before he pressed play.
“She’s terrific. Got some chops,” Michael said, clearly trying to draw him out. “Who is she?”
Nick swallowed and slipped his cell back in his pocket. “My sister.”
“No way. Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Older or younger?”
“Twin.”
“Ahh, fuck.” Michael rubbed at the fringed hole over the knee of his jeans. “Is she looking for a gig?”
“I think she might be. She doesn’t know it yet. I’ll have to convince her.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “But I gotta talk to Li about it too. There’s extenuating circumstances.”
“Like what?”
“None of your fucking business.” Nick didn’t have time to regret his rope snapping before he grabbed for his typical lifeline—his guitar. “Let’s play.”
Three hours later, Michael unfolded himself from the couch and stretched out his fingers. “Damn, how much do you charge for these lessons? You about killed me.”
