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“Pawn shops here and there.” My blue-green eyes were surely bright. It was a big deal and showed how much of a hold the past had on me.
Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “Everything’s here except Collin’s acoustic and Barry’s drums.”
“Yeah.” I glanced around proudly.
Smiling at me, Claire said, “Cool.”
Kyle nodded approvingly. “Righteous.”
Tommy suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Hey. What’s going on? I heard a lot of noise.” Glancing around, he raised his brows. “Wow! ABCR legacy equipment. My dad wondered where it all went.” He pointed. “Is that Collin’s guitar?”
I had the thought that Barry had shared not just some things with his son, but everything.
Rachel glanced at Tommy sharply. “Who are you?”
“Barry’s son.” He held out his hand. “Tommy Evans.”
Rachel shook his hand and mock glared at me. “Barry’s back in town and you didn’t tell me?”
I shrugged. I guess Rachel had decided now wasn’t the time to share with the kids that Barry and I were an item, and that we were all moving into his place together. So I laid the groundwork for that future reveal.
“I wanted to choose the right time to tell you, to break all the news to you in bits and pieces.” Because apparently that was what we were going to do with Claire and Kyle. “But this just goes to show you that planning and trying to control things is a waste of time and energy.”
I certainly wasn’t going to live my life that way anymore. With supportive family, friends, and the right man by my side, I believed life could be extraordinary, and from now on, I was going to live it that way.
“Things are gonna happen as they happen. Best to just kick back and enjoy the ride.”
Addy
There was a lot of arguing during the new generation’s first official band practice.
The name of the band was decided. It was No Quarter, the title of Kyle’s favorite Led Zeppelin song.
I liked the name, but my opinion didn’t really matter. Rachel’s either. Musically, we fell into supportive roles as the younger generation took center stage. No Quarter wasn’t about us.
Rachel picked up a tray and started serving customers as they trickled in, and I went to work behind the bar. As I made drinks for the early birds, I heard Bob talk Kyle into adding “When Doves Cry” to their set list, and they did a few cool covers of Led Zeppelin tunes. Claire was frustrated by the way she sounded on “Communication Breakdown.” But though she coaxed Kyle, he refused to sing lead.
Unlike his father, Kyle was a natural leader. He moved Claire past her pique, and convinced them all to rally around playing some Anthem tunes.
It was obvious to me that Kyle had a feel for the music. It also quickly became apparent that he had a vision for the band. One they could all get behind, I could tell, because they all relaxed up there on that stage and just enjoyed the music. That had only been the case for ABCR in the beginning, and that beginning hadn’t lasted long because Andy was too narcissistic to be a good leader like Kyle.
“I think we ought to call it a night.” Kyle’s voice carried to where I was filling drinks across the room because of his mic. He covered his strings on his guitar to silence them, then shifted to look at Tommy. “Good drum fill on that last bridge.”
“Thanks, man.” Up on a riser, sitting on a stool behind his kit, Tommy lifted his chin. He was also still wearing his mic. So, not just me but everyone inside Footit’s heard them.
I smiled. They were good. They were coming along. Claire on bass worked. I believed they were really on to something. I was excited for them, but they still had a lot to learn.
“I like the way we sound.” Claire draped her hands over the center mic and included both Tommy and Kyle in that assessment. “Right call having me speed up my phrasing.”
“Amazed at how quickly you’ve taken to bass.” Kyle’s silver eyes gleamed as he stared at her. His praise made her blush.
Claire tapped the body of the Fender that used to be her mom’s. “It’s easy to sound good on a high-quality instrument. And you seem to have a clear vision how each of the parts in the songs should sound and how we should play them.” She tilted her head. “How can that be?”
“Music was my therapy at one time, like it’s always been yours,” Kyle said. “As things worsened at home, it was only an occasional escape.”
I paused mid-pour on a drink order, listening to him describe music like I would have at one time.
