“I wouldn’t give up one minute of time with you and Alice for being carefree,” I insisted. Sure, there’d been times I’d felt anchored down by my responsibilities. Now, though, I had no regrets. Life was too fucking short.
“And now I’ve been leaning on you again, more than I should for the last six years.”
I said, “I love you,” but couldn’t deny that. I’d never blamed her, though. Brain chemistry was a bitch.
“The least I can do is listen when you give me good advice.” She managed a crooked smile. “And give a home to your cat.”
Willow raised her head as if hearing what Mom said, then trotted across the room and jumped back up to her lap.
“Our cat,” I suggested.
“Okay.” Mom’s smile improved.
I stood and went behind her, bending to wrap my arms around her shoulders. As I hugged her and watched her hands caressing Willow, a little more hope took root.
Chapter 11
Griffin
I’d thought that once we got Willow settled at Lee’s on Saturday, we could turn the afternoon into a date. Instead, I found myself having a late lunch with him and his mom, and then heading home alone. Probably just as well, since I was signed up to play a gig that evening, but I still missed him as I wandered around my sterile apartment getting dressed.
I should’ve asked him to come hear me play.Except he wasn’t my boyfriend or my sidekick, to hang about waiting while I sound-checked and then listened to a bunch of other bands before it was my turn. He would’ve been bored. This “Rock on the Rock” fest ran closer to metal than the folk that Lee preferred.
I took a Lyft out to the site, about an hour out of town, for a price that would wipe out a chunk of what I was getting paid, and arranged for a ride home for another chunk. The driver was getting a hell of a deal since she revealed she had a ticket to the show, but I couldn’t begrudge her making money. I signed the ball cap she thrust at me and agreed to meet back at her car at eleven.
“The Rock” was a stony outcropping about eight feet high looming over a wide meadow. The event organizers had generators for the amps, and the bands would set up on thatnatural stage. I hoped no one would be drunk or stoned enough to go off the edge, even if it was a slope, not a cliff.
Security checked my ID, then let me past the temporary fencing back into the performers’ area. The first person I saw made me cringe. Sure enough, Duke spotted me and swaggered over. I hadn’t seen him in twenty years. He was a decade younger than me, but looked older now, his wiry build turned gaunt, which I suspected was due to all the crap he put up his nose back in the day. Maybe still did.
He tossed his long, unruly hair and cocked his head. “Griffin Marsh. Slumming it with us working musicians, are you?”
“I’m here to play,” I said. “Same as you.”
“Hardly the same, is it?” He took a couple of steps closer. “We’re all paying our dues the hard way. No HeartTrap to help us jump over the competition.”
“I was lucky,” I agreed mildly. “Jordan’s the best.”
“Jordan, huh? I bet you and those HeartTrap dudes are besties now? Ass buddies, right?”
I sighed. No doubt there were cell phones out among the crowd of musicians, roadies, and techs. Anything I said could end up online. “Jordan’s straight. And we’re not best friends, just casual friends. And he’s in his sixties.”
“Aren’t you?” Duke curled his lip.
Too damned close to true.“No.”
“But you are queer, right? That’s not just a rumor.”
“Why?” I looked him up and down, unable to resist adding, “You interested? Because I’m not. Jeez, dude, eat a cheeseburger or something.”
“Jeez?” he mocked, pretending my quip hadn’t stung, although I saw his eyes had narrowed. “This is a metal festival. No place for wimps who can’t even swear.”
“It’s a rock festival, like it says in the name,” I replied, although he was right about where the performances had drifted over the years. I’d be out on the fringe at this show. A few more cutting lines sprang to mind, but I suppressed them. I wouldn’t put it past Duke to “accidentally” unplug an amp if I got him mad enough. I settled for, “Good luck up there,” in a tone that made it clear I thought he’d need it, then turned away.
“Not just a queer but a murderer,” Duke called after me. “You don’t belong here.”
I waved behind me like I could care less and went to find my old friend Naylor who’d arranged my invite. Naylor and his band, Twisted Nayls, had staked out a spot on the far side of the hill. He waved as I trudged over. “Griffin! Long time no see. You’ve had a hell of a ride.”
We bumped fists and I followed him to where they had a couple of camp chairs and blankets set up on the meadow grass. Naylor took the last open chair so I set my guitar case down carefully and lowered myself to the nearest blanket, exchanging nods and “hey”s with his bandmates, none of whom were the same guys I once knew.
