MySoultoSave (11 page)

Maybe she was being fired.

Once the idea occurred, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
They could’ve found someone better, easy. Maybe another band they knew had
broken up and they were taking the opportunity to grab an experienced
performer. Hell, their ex-vocalist might’ve decided the Peace Corps wasn’t for
him and come back.

And they would’ve sent Blue to tell her, so Tex could still
be the apologetic, consoling friend after the fact.

By the time Blue’s maroon sedan swung into the lot, she’d
convinced herself bad news was on the way and tried to prepare herself for the
blow. It wasn’t working. Her nerves twinged and sizzled, and her stomach had
soured to the point of nausea.

Blue pulled into the space in front of the bench she’d been
sitting on, then rolled the driver’s side window down and beckoned with a wave.

She went like a convict approaching the electric chair.

“Hey.” Blue gave her a sheepish smile. “You wanna go for a
ride with me?”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

She almost refused. If she was going to be fired, she’d
rather get it over with here, so she could go straight home and lick her
wounds. But the whole surprise thing cast some doubt on the firing theory she’d
developed. Blue was cranky and opinionated, but the woman didn’t strike her as
cruel.
Surprise, you’re fired
just wasn’t her style. “Okay,” she said
slowly. “As long as there won’t be anything jumping out of a cake. That stuff
scares the crap out of me.”

The smile grew. “No cake. Promise.”

She nodded, circled the car and climbed into the passenger
side. “I can smoke, right?”

“Go for it.”

While she lit up, Blue drove out of the lot and headed east,
away from her house. “So, you’re probably really confused right now.”

“Nope.” Logan pushed the window switch and lowered her side
a few inches to let the smoke out. “And by nope, I mean yes. Extremely. But
hey, I’ll go with it.”

The other woman grimaced. “I’m not very good at this.”

“Confusing people?”

“Being friends.”

She stared at Blue. Relief wiped everything out for a
minute, and then she laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Friends,” she said. “This
is how you make friends.”

“See what I mean?”

“Shit. I’m no good at this, either.” She stared at the
floor, flashing a crooked smile. “Maybe we should fill out friendship
applications or something.”

The dour look on Blue’s face eased toward a grin. “And exchange
secret decoder rings.”

“Have a trial slumber party.”

“Hire friend stunt doubles.”

“Get matching temporary tattoos.”

Laughter bubbled from Blue’s lips. “I like you,” she said.
“Maybe spunk isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

“As long as it’s fresh.” Most of the remaining tension
dissipated and she smiled. “I like you too. I’m glad we’re auditioning for
being friends.”

“I think it’s official. Anybody who can say ‘trial slumber
party’ with a straight face is worthy of friendship in my books.”

A few moments passed in comfortable silence. Logan finished
her cigarette and ground it out in the half-filled car ashtray. “So, we’re
practicing again tonight,” she said, mostly to keep from asking about the
surprise. She didn’t want to ruin it. Most of the unexpected things in her life
had been unpleasant, and she was kind of looking forward to one that wasn’t.
“Do you think we’ll be ready for Saturday?”

“Hell, yeah.” No hesitation. That was encouraging. “You’re
still worried? Dude, you kick ass on vocals. They’ll love you.”

She shrugged. Whining about her low self-esteem wasn’t going
to win too many friendship points. “I guess it’s the audience I’m worried
about,” she said. “I might hurl again. They’re coming for a show, not a
shower.”

“So bring a bucket.”

That got her laughing. “I take it panicking and bowing out’s
off the table for me.”

“Yup. If you break a leg, I’ll carry your ass back onstage.”
Blue grinned, slowed the car and flicked the right blinker on. “We’re here.”

Logan watched as they pulled into a long, narrow parking lot
in front of a red brick flat-roofed building that resembled half the structures
in the Philly area. Five or six cars already occupied the slots. A hand-painted
wooden sign above the door read Musician’s Mania in jagged lettering, white on
black. “Sweet,” she said. “You have good taste in stores.”

“The surprise is inside.” Blue parked, shut the engine off
and popped the door open. “Come on,” she said. “They’re waiting for us.”

They?

Reluctance made a comeback. But she followed Blue, letting
the bassist practically tug her through the door and into a huge, air-cooled
room stuffed with music gear. Guitars and basses filled racks and spilled onto
wall mounts. A labyrinth of amps and headers occupied one back corner and drums
ranging from little African-style hand beaters to full double-bass kits stocked
the other. There was a double-sided row of keyboards, some honest-to-god pianos
and several aisles containing microphones, cords, effects pedals and stacks of
sheet music. About a dozen people milled around, plunking various instruments
or browsing the aisles.

Logan whistled. “I like it. Let’s move in.”

“I wish.” Blue steered her toward a long glass case to the
right of the entrance, filled with picks, strings, CDs, band stickers and a
bunch of random cool stuff. There was a cash register mounted on the end of the
case and a rangy, dark-haired, heavily tattooed Tommy Lee lookalike in jeans
and a black Tool shirt standing behind it, watching them with an expectant
smile.

Blue stopped in front of the cashier. “Did you get it set
up?”

“Hey, Blue. How’s it going? I’m great, thanks for asking.”
His smile didn’t waver.

She rolled her eyes. “Hi, Kink. So did you?”

“Yes. And I deserve an intro for that.”

“Fine.” Blue smirked and nodded at Logan. “This is Logan
Frost. Logan, meet Kink.”

“Kincaid Smith.” He held a hand over the counter, and she
shook it. “Just so you know I’m not a total freak. I do possess an actual
name.”

“Don’t worry. I like Kink.” What she’d said hit her half a
second before Blue started laughing, and a flush singed her cheeks. “Wow. That
came out all kinds of wrong.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people say that.” Kink met
her gaze with a slow smile.

She shivered and resisted the urge to say something lame,
like
is it hot in here?

Blue cleared her throat. “Come
on
, Kink. We’re
waiting.”

“And so patiently too.” He came around to the front of the
counter. “Follow me, ladies.”

Logan got her breath back and proceeded after the other two
through the central area of the room, a left turn in front of the maze of amps
and through an open doorway. The smaller, unoccupied room looked set up for a
jam session. An electric-acoustic guitar on a tripod rested next to one folding
chair, and a sleek silver cordless mike mounted on a stand in front of another.
A beautiful thing. Two more chairs flanked a half-stack in the corner.

Kink crossed to the stack and flipped a few switches. “Okay.
You should be good to go,” he said. “I even tuned you up, Blue.”

“Thanks, babe.” Blue turned to Logan with an embarrassed
smile. “Um. Well, you know how the number one mic’s getting kind of scratchy.
And it’s gonna be your first gig, and that’s a big deal, you know? Momentous,
even. So…” She scuffed a foot along the carpet. “I thought I’d, you know. Buy
you a new one.”

Her throat clenched tight. Besides Gran, nobody had ever
bought her things. Not even so much as a drink at a bar. She hadn’t hung around
with the type of people who gave gifts, aside from various sexually transmitted
diseases and the occasional free toke. She looked from Blue to the mic stand
and tears welled in her eyes. Damn. She was going to bawl and make a fool of
herself. “You’re buying me a microphone,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Blue bit her lip. “Surprise.”

A huge, goofy smile spread on her lips and she threw her
arms around the other woman. After a half-second’s hesitation, Blue hugged her
back.

Logan squeezed hard and let go. “Thank you,” she said. “I
say we skip the temporary tats and move straight to matching unicorns.”

“With rainbows, even.” Blue grinned and went over to the
guitar, picked it up and plopped into the chair with it. She plucked a quick
succession of strings. The notes poured like silk from the amp. “Perfect,” she
said. “You ready?”

“I don’t know. Ready for what?”

“Try before you buy. It’s the musician’s rule.” Blue
gestured to the mic. “So let’s try.”

“Now?”

She nodded. “Kink’s a great audience.”

Kink, leaning against the wall near the doorway with arms
folded, gave a cheery little wave.

A thread of panic stirred in Logan’s chest and she held back
a groan.
Come on, Frost. It’s one guy
. If she couldn’t handle a single
stranger, she’d die facing a room full of them. She moved to the mic stand with
as much determination as she could muster. Found the switch on the shaft, slid
it to on. A green light flashed to life near the base. She tapped a finger on
the grill and heard a satisfying echo from the amps. “Okay,” she said. “What
are we doing?”

“That’s more like it.” Blue straightened in the chair and
adjusted her grip. “Well, I’ve heard you nail the newer stuff. Let’s see how
you handle a classic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How classic? Are we talking Beatles
or Beethoven?”

“Better.” With a wink, Blue fretted a chord and dropped into
the opening of the Eagles’ “Hotel California.”

Oh yeah. Definitely better.

She closed her eyes and listened to Blue play the haunting
melody almost note-perfect to the original, with tiny variations that made it
hers. God, how long had it been since she’d heard this song, actually listened
to it? The ballad was practically her personal anthem. She should have it as a
ring tone.

When her cue came, she launched the song with utter abandon.
She forgot about listening for sound quality before she finished the first
verse, gave up on the idea of trying out and just sang. All the horrors of
addiction, the false satisfaction and aching sorrow, the shame of knowing it
was wrong and not being able to stop.

She hit the last line—
you can check out any time you
like, but you can never leave
—and her hands shook around the microphone. That
was one closing line with teeth. It sent chills through her every time.

She opened her eyes while Blue ran out an abbreviated
version of the end solo, Hell-Freezes-Over style, and started to compliment the
other woman on a kick-ass performance.

Cheers and applause erupted behind her. From more than just
Kink.

She turned slowly. Everyone who’d been in the store had
crowded around the doorway to the small room and had obviously enjoyed the
show. The thrill that raced through her blood chased away the auto-embarrassment
of being watched. She faced Blue again and said, “How long have they been
there?”

“Since dark desert highway.” Blue beamed at her. “We’re
adding that to the set list.”

“And buying the mic?”

“Definitely.”

It didn’t take much to talk her into a brief encore. For the
moment, she could handle this.

Chapter Ten

Logan barely noticed the week pass. She blinked and it was
Saturday.

She’d ridden with Tex to the Eight Spot, a big nightclub
that catered to better people than she’d hung around in the city. At least,
less wasted people. The place had three rooms—a bar and lounge in the front,
then behind it and down a ramp, a game room with darts, pool and pinball. To
the left of the game room, separated by a low partition wall, was the stage and
dance floor. Huge, dark, half full of people and getting more crowded by the
minute.

The opening band, Ghosted, had wrapped up and cleared out a
few minutes ago. They weren’t bad, but the stuff they played tended on the
heavier side. Metallica, Godsmack, Slipknot. The audience had been a lot
smaller during their set. She’d kind of hoped it stayed that way.

She grabbed a high-hat from the dwindling pile of equipment
beside the stage, carried it up the steps and stopped at the edge. Reid, Blue
and Tex worked the setup like a choreographed machine. When she’d come up with
gear the first few times, she felt completely in the way, even though they were
being too nice to say anything. So she’d taken to standing here until one of
them darted over and retrieved what she had.

Sure enough, Tex blurred by and snatched the cymbal, calling
thanks over his shoulder.

From start to finish, it took twenty minutes to get all the
gear in place. Logan stood behind a stack and peered around at the dance
floor—which was now almost completely packed with chattering bodies. The pit of
her stomach fluttered wildly, and she drew back around to face the wall. It was
less intimidating. Shit, how could she do this in front of all those people?
That quick little session in the music store had been light years from this
mob. And she’d have to keep it up for hours.

“You want that bucket now? I brought one.”

She looked at Blue, smiled and shook her head. “I’m good.
Haven’t eaten anything all day, so there’s nothing to bring up.”

“Always plan ahead.” Blue slung an arm around her shoulder
and pointed to the back door, still ajar from bringing the equipment through.
“You and me are sneaking out that door to grab a smoke before the show.”

“Okay.” She followed the bassist, grateful for the brief
distraction.

The noise of the crowd was still audible outside, muffled,
but definite. Reid’s SUV and Blue’s rust-finish pickup were parked here behind
the building. Tex had parked in a pay lot across the street, since there were
only two slots back here and they’d brought all the gear in the trucks.