“That’s all we ask,” I replied for both of us.
When we finally stopped by the curb of our destination and Ben got out first, then held a hand out for Luca, I held my breath a little.
“Can you wait for a second, just in case he wants to leave?” I asked the driver quietly.
“Of course.”
By the time I had slid across the seat to join them, Luca stood there in front of the guitar store, looking stunned.
I stayed close to the car while I gauged the situation.
“We okay?” I asked, and Luca quickly nodded. I tapped the roof of the Audi so the driver knew he could go.
Ben took Luca’s hand. “I assume you’ve been here before.”
“I have. Just not in a while. I… this is where I bought Dolly.” Tears were streaming down his face.
“I remembered reading that in an article back in the day,” I confessed. “I thought maybe you needed a little push. We can just go look. You don’t have to buy anything, or if you do, we can just take the guitar home for when you’re ready, okay?”
Luca turned to me and grabbed the front of my jacket, then kissed me there in the view of anyone walking past. Someone whistled, but that was it. Nobody expected Luca to be here. There were no paparazzi or fans. Hell, with his shaved head and hood up, Luca could’ve been anyone.
When he let me go, I held out my hand and we went inside.
Bonetti’s was an institution, I’d learned. The man who founded it in the thirties had been the grandfather of the current owner. They made top notch acoustic guitars there, and it was a rite of passage for new, especially local, artists to get a guitar there.
But they also made specialty guitars. And that’s why we were here, even though Luca didn’t know it yet.
“Ah, Mr. Moretti!” the clerk exclaimed as soon as he came out from the back.
Luca chuckled. “Please, call me Luca. You’ve done that before, Primo.”
The two of them clasped hands and did the half hug thing.
Primo, a human in his forties, clapped his shoulder as they let go. “I’m glad to see you looking so good, Luca. The press conference was…” He used the chef’s kiss gesture, which felt different coming from an Italian.
“I tried.” Luca grinned. “So, my partners planned this, I don’t know what’s going on.”
Primo looked at us and smiled. “Yes. Welcome. Ben and Max, right?”
We shook his hand too. “Yes, that’s us,” Ben said. “Thank you for having us.”
“Of course! My grandpa, bless his soul, sold Luca his previous guitar.”
Luca grimaced. “Right. I…. There might’ve been an incident which Dolly didn’t survive when everything went down with the band.”
Primo put a hand on his arm and squeezed in sympathy. “I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend. When going through something like that, it’s not unusual to feel destructive.” He smiled. “You’re far from the first person who has lost a guitar made by us that way.”
Luca made a theatrical gesture of wiping his forehead and said, “Phew….”
We chuckled, and Primo gestured at the shop that was filled with acoustic guitars that mostly looked the same to me but probably weren’t.
“There are many to choose from, if you would like to take a look. But there’s one special one I talked to Max about in our emails.” He glanced at me, then grinned when Luca shot me an accusing look.
“You’re been conspiring behind my back?” Again with the dramatic, playfulness delivered with a gasp. I loved to see him like this. At least he wasn’t upset that we’d held a secret from and sprung this on him.
I held my thumb and forefinger an inch apart, then closed the gap some more. “A little bit.”
He rolled his eyes, then turned to Primo. “Is there even a reason for me to look at anything else but the special one?”
