“Please don’t. I like you more than I thought possible — more than I like most people, honestly. Let me get used to that idea for a while before you push it further, okay?”
“So… you’re not telling me never?”
“Go slow for me,” she said softly.
He bit his lip, nodded. “I can do that. And you? Believe in me. Believe my feelings for you are real and my intentions are good.” For a moment, there was something raw and almost pure in his face. Then, almost as if he knew it was bordering on too much for her, he arched one eyebrow and a flirty, dirty smile spread across his face. “Also, you can acknowledge that I’m the best lover you’ll have in this lifetime, gorgeous.”
After one split second of astonishment, she collapsed into laughter, to the point that he reached out to steady her tea mug before she spilled it. “Oh, you—”
“It wasn’t that funny,” he said after a minute, as she was still gasping with small snorts of disproportionate humor.
“No,” she said, wiping her eyes and straightening herself out, “I’m laughing because it’s too damn true.” And because laughing was close kin to crying, and his sense of humor clicked with something inside her and made her want to believe, and fall with him, and have it all. “I—”
Then Angel came crashing out of the dining room into the courtyard, on his phone, saying, “I’m sorry, what was that? I think I didn’t hear you clearly. You want us to perform with a local Gumdrop Conspiracy tribute band tomorrow? … Yes, I do have some concerns. … I’m wondering about their experience and professionalism, whether they’ve played a festival before, whether one rehearsal is enough for them to sync with us. … Well, it’s not what we signed on for, and I’m not seeing the benefit to us in risking—”
Nell swallowed the words she wasn’t sure she wanted to say anyway, as Eamonn turned toward Angel with a silent what’s going on gesture.
Angel waved at them to wait while he wrapped up his phone call. “Look, we’ll be happy to cover a Gumdrop Conspiracy song as a memorial for Giery during our set, and express our concern and best wishes for Redwell, but— … That’s right, we’re completely willing to go do our set solo if necessary. … Yes, I’d appreciate that. Looking at other options would be great. Thanks, let me know.” He ended the call and sighed.
“Gumdrop Conspiracy tribute band?” Eamonn asked.
“That was the organizer’s thought — it’s fantastic exposure for the band, I’m guessing the festival gets to pay them next to nothing, and we get stuck on stage with an unknown quantity who may or may not even know our songs. Well, they’re ‘looking at other options’ now, so we’ll see. And coming right after this morning’s disaster of a radio show…”
“Do you want to tell us what happened with that?” Nell asked, when Angel trailed off into grim recollection, staring into the depths of the swimming pool as though he’d like to drown someone in it.
“All the interviewer wanted to talk about was drugs. He started out with Giery’s car crash and death and how drugs and partying were involved, and kept going at us about our history, needling Blade especially with hurtful questions, wanting to know if he was afraid of ending up like that. Blade lost it when the dude implied that Crys was getting cold feet about marrying him because of his past heroin use and asked if he was ashamed of his unborn child growing up knowing his father was an addict. It was pretty much chaos after that. None of the questions at any point were about music or performing.”
“Well, shit,” Eamonn said, though he didn’t seem surprised. “It’s not uncommon,” he explained in an undertone to Nell. “Unfortunately, ‘poke at Blade until he loses his shit’ is a popular game in some corners of the media.” His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it, then looked puzzled. “Huh. Mom just texted ‘Cavalry is coming.’ Weird.”
Angel shrugged, with a no clue look on his face.
Eamonn typed something, then his phone buzzed again. “She says, ‘Stay where you are.’ No explanation. I hate it when she’s cryptic.” But he smiled affectionately all the same as he put the phone back in his pocket. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”
“Well, we’re not going anywhere this afternoon unless Time Rock gets us a new match in time to use our rehearsal slot,” Angel said. “No sense in dragging our asses over there if it’s just us. Maybe Mama Mandy is planning a visit.”
As they stood there, a coffee mug rocketed into the swimming pool and Blade stomped by them, glowering, his combat boots scraping on the tiles of the pool deck. Jed followed, saying, “Hey, man. Breathe, okay? They’ve said much worse before.”
The sound of a door opening on the upper level caught Nell’s attention. Crys shuffled out to the stairs and made her way down, barefoot and clearly fresh out of bed in a matching sleep set and robe printed with candy hearts, with a concerned Erva hovering behind her. Pregnancy looks flipping uncomfortable and exhausting, Nell thought, watching the younger woman struggle down the steps at a painfully slow top speed to get to her fiancé.
The two met as Crys reached the bottom of the stairs, and the tough, angry guitarist melted into his woman’s embrace, the fury bleeding out of him. They could barely make out his words, muffled against her, but it sounded like, “Know it’s not true, but I don’t like them talking about you that way.”
“Let’s just get married,” Crys suggested softly. Her words were only meant for Blade, but she spoke clearly enough that the sound carried. “I don’t need a fancy dress or a big event;
