by side, the same height, though King weighed about twenty pounds more than Sager now, all of it muscle. He’d taken to drinking protein shakes and lifting weights with a religious fervor since his dad had the heart attack. He had his cell held out in front of Sager, the screen turned sideways. Sager bent his head to watch, his brown eyes hidden beneath unruly strands of inky hair. The bassist snickered at whatever King was showing him. Probably some YouTube video. Whenever he found something funny, he couldn’t wait to share it with Sager.
Smiling widely, Sager clapped King on the shoulder before they separated to get set up.
“War, come on, dude,” I cajoled, pulling his attention away from Lace. “We gotta get outta here by one, so they can change the set up for BS.”
“Alright,” War muttered after lobbing one more loaded glower at Lace. “We’re not through discussing this,” he warned her.
“Yeah, yeah.” She shot him the finger.
I hid my smile.
“You guys haven’t changed a bit. Two of the most stubborn people I know,” Dizzy observed. “Can’t you compromise?”
“Not when I’m right, and she’s wrong,” War explained with his usual arrogance, grabbing the center mic and turning his head back to look at me. “‘Truth.’” He dipped his chin. “Hit it, Bullet.”
I fingered the three string riff repeatedly to set the pace for the frenetic opening. Hips swaying back and forth to the beat in a serpentine pattern, War began the opening lyrics at the same time that King came crashing in with the drums, Dizzy with the rhythm, and Sager with his steady bass line.
I moved to stand between Sager and Dizzy, all three of us leaning back as a choreographed unit, instruments held pelvic level, jamming away together.
Except for a couple of interjected echoes by me during the chorus, ‘Truth’ was a vocal showpiece for our lead singer beginning to end.
“Holy shit!” Lace exclaimed after War let out the last primal yell. “Why didn’t you guys do that one in New York? It sounds even better live than it does on the recording.” She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her black tunic top, and walked over to me, gesturing at my Les Paul. “How the hell do you do that?”
“Bullet’s pretty fast with his fingers.” Sager chuckled.
“Ah, so that’s how you got the nickname.” Lace smiled. “Faster than a bullet on the frets, huh?”
“Uh, sort of.” King shoved Sager. “Even faster to get a woman off. One time he even…”
“Shut it.” I cut in and glared at King.
Lace’s smile warbled, but she managed to right it.
“What?” King shrugged. “It’s Lace. It ain’t like she never heard that shit before.”
“If you bitches are done joking around,” War interjected. “I wanna have a serious word with you, Lacey.”
“Stop pushing me,” she said firmly, her hands fisting on her narrow jean clad hips. “And leave me the hell alone about it. I’m not changing my mind.”
“I’m thinking you will.” War angled closer. “Babe, you wasted way too much time and talent when you were with that asshole Martin.”
Lace’s eyes narrowed under the criticism. “Yeah, well, I’m not wasting any more of my time with you today when you’re acting like such an authoritative jerk.” She scooped her coat off the floor and stomped down the stage right stairs.
“Lacey, come back. Don’t be that way,” War called out after her, but she didn’t stop. Her angry strides took her quickly up the aisle past the rows of empty seats. She’d finished buttoning her coat by the time she disappeared through the double doors at the top. “Bryan.” War turned to me. “Keep an eye on her, will you? You know she won’t talk to me when she gets like this.”
“Alright.” Dizzy was right. This was just like old times. I unstrapped my guitar, placed it in the stand, and jogged after her, catching up to her at the other end of the mezzanine. “Lace. Hold up.” I grabbed her arm.
“Leave me alone, Bryan.” Jerking her arm free, she whirled around, her back straight as a board, her chin lifted, her eyes flashing. When she got all worked up like this she could be a handful. I also thought it was cute as hell, but I knew better than to mention that.
“Don’t take it out on me, Lace, just ‘cause you’re pissed at him.” She continued to scowl and I gave into a grin. “You know I’ve got more than a few inches on you.” I cocked a brow and took a step closer to demonstrate. “I’ll use that to my advantage if I have to.”
“Promise?” Her lips twitched. Hand to the center of my chest, she pushed me back.
“I’d like that,” she replied and then graced me with an all-out, eyes sparkling, rock my world Lace smile. My fingers tightened around the plastic wrapping of the cigarette pack. She was so fucking beautiful when she smiled. I’d forgotten how it could affect me. A hundred memories of her looking just like that came rushing to the surface of my mind as I basked in the radiant glow of the current one. I still wanted to do whatever it took to make her smile like that. Nothing had changed in that regard since we’d been kids.
6
I sat on a bench in the Commons with Bryan, sun heating my back. Picnickers crowded the park and children dashed back and forth between spread out blankets. Bostonians were out in droves enjoying the atypically warm January day. I stared at Bryan. His shades were pointed in the direction of a young girl with braids being chased in circles by a couple of boys.
“I remember when you used to have braids like that,” he mused. “Before your insanely annoying Brittany Spears phase.” He shifted, angling his long jean clad legs toward me.
He was so exceptionally handsome with his light brown hair peeking out from under the top of his black knit cap. Unfortunately the mirrored aviators he wore, though sexy, shielded his dark eyebrows and his gorgeous grey green eyes from view. My eyes traced the strong line of his stubble covered jaw and lingered on the sensual lips that I still fantasized about kissing.
I cleared my throat. “We used to be inseparable, you and Dizzy and me. Always pretending to be rock stars. Do you remember the time we built that stage in front of the House? How we got the other kids to pay fifty cents each just to see us perform?”
Giving me a bemused smile, he nodded. “Sheet for a curtain. Glass bottles for microphones. You had a stuffed snake for a prop.”
“You wore a top hat like Slash’s.” My lips tilted up as I remembered. “Where on earth did you find that ratty thing?”
“A dumpster behind the Tuxedo Warehouse.” He reached over and gently removed a strand of hair that the soft breeze had blown across my lips.
I pulled the edges of my worn pea coat together, pretending that my shiver was caused by the cold and not be the feel of his rough fingers against my mouth. “We had some good times.”
