“But what if he doesn’t come back?”
“Then he found a lady friend. Lucky him.”
She exhaled, guilt weighing down her shoulders. “This is all my fault.”
“Hey,” I said, looking up at her. “I don’t want to hear that again. You’ve done nothing wrong. Besides, wild opossums only live one to two years. Zonk’s been on borrowed time since birth.”
The phone rang.
“You want me to get it?” she asked, stepping back.
“Nah, I got it.” I stood with some effort and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Scott. It’s Johnny. Get over here. Now.”
By the time we arrived,the Allard Street House was fully engulfed, flames licking through the rafters and chewing up the roof. Johnny was in the yard, waving us over, his face streaked with soot.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I was in the back bedroom when I smelled smoke. The wall on the right side of the stage was on fire. I tried to put it out, but the flames shot straight up. So I ran next door and called 911.”
We joined the neighbors on the sidewalk across the street, watching helplessly as the fire tore through the house until there was nothing left to save. Michelle gripped my arm, stunned, and all I could do was stare. The house that had once pulsed with music and laughter, where my band had cut its teeth, and where Michelle first fell for me, was collapsing into a heap of glowing bones.
A crowd formed in front of the burning hulk and kept growing, heavy-metal disciples arriving to pay their last respects… and howl at the moon in a Rabid Jackal tribute. Theories about the fire’s origins spread fast, the frontrunner—courtesy of Allen—being that it had been set on purpose to keep us from performing. Not that I wasn’t flattered to be part of the conspiracy board, but we were nowhere near important enough to be silenced and firebombed. Truth was, it didn’t matter what had caused it—faulty wiring, arson, or Chalk Line Charlie clawing his way up from hell—the house was gone, and so was Rabid Jackal. Don’t know how I knew. I just did.
For a long time, neither Michelle nor I spoke. We stood there, the heat on our faces, the air thick with smoke, and the low crackle of dying wood. It was strange, watching a piece of your life die right in front of you. I’d just buried Zonk… and now this. Watching the roof cave in felt like watching a version of myself collapse—louder, younger, dumber, and freer. I’d never be that guy again. And weirdly, I didn’t want to be. This was the universe telling me my youth was over, and it was time to move on from my rock star dreams.
Michelle’s fingers tightened on my arm. She felt it too—the finality. When she turned toward me, that decisive look I’d seen once before was back, only this time she wasn’t walking away. She was standing firm. Ready to face whatever came next. Together.
The past had burned. The future was all that was left.
“Doesthis jacket make me look like I stole it?” I whispered, tugging at the collar of the borrowed sports coat.
Michelle swatted my hand away. “You look both dashingly handsome and incredibly uncomfortable at the same time.”
I smiled. “Exactly the look I was going for.”
“Relax. We’re in charge here, not them,” she said with such confidence I almost believed her. At least she looked the part, wearing a dress she’d packed into her carry-on for that fateful flight. Fresh from one of her daily showers at the country clubs her parents had yet to revoke her membership from, Michelle had curled her shiny, brown hair and clipped flowers from Meg’s garden into it. She looked beautiful and elegant. Ready to kick some rich parent ass. Standing beside her, I felt wildly unworthy.
Walking side by side through the sweeping marble entryway,I tipped my head back to take in the crystal chandeliers glowing overhead. I felt like I’d stepped into Charlie’s chocolate factory, with riches and rewards everywhere—plus hidden traps waiting to eat me alive.
“Miss Carver,” a uniformed woman called in greeting to Michelle. “Happy to see you back.”
“Thank you, Luzia,” she answered, matching her formality, then leaned in with a casual whisper: “This is Scott, the parking lot boy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Luzia said, catching Michelle’s eye. Something passed between them. It felt like I’d come in at the tail end of a conversation, but I smiled anyway.
“Where can I find my parents?” Michelle asked.
“They’re waiting for you in the study.”
We continued down the hall until she stopped before the door and turned to face me. “Are you ready?”
“Me? I’m not the one about to blow this place up.”
“Yes.” She let out a laugh. “But you’re the one most likely to get punched.”
I held out my hand. “I’ll take my chances.”
