Linx gave another two-finger wave. “Mach. Good to see you.”
“Uh.” Mach slid his gaze to John and then to the woman. He was a man who sized up the room before committing. Linx gave him extra credit for being thorough.
“Are you being helped?” Mach asked, now that his assessment was complete.
“Nope.” Linx stood, giving his limbs a little shake with the motion.
“Car trouble?” Mach asked, glancing out the front bank of windows to Linx’s brand new sports car.
Hell no, Portia—he’d finally decided on a name for her—was perfection in metal form.
Linx shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here. Have a second? Private?”
“Sure.” Mach tilted his head toward the open door of an office. “Do you… um… want something to drink? Eat? We have coffee and there’s a snack machine in the break room. They stocked it yesterday, so it’s still got Doritos.”
“Nope.” Linx strode into the office, taking the chair Mach offered. “I came to talk to you—” He pointed at Mach. “—and the band.” He rapped out a rhythm on the desk in time with the last of his words.
Mach didn’t sit at the desk. He sat on the edge of the desk. Crossed, then uncrossed his arms. He did the same with his legs.
Linx waited until he settled.
“The other guys are all busy in the shop.” Mach glanced through the panes of glass that exposed the expanse of the garage. Looked like they had five or six lifts. It was a decent-sized operation. “Monday’s are always the craziest. We’ve got an entire weekend of problems to triage.”
That sucked. Linx hoped they’d beg off early to come play music with him at Brek’s. Still, he understood. Suckage factor was still the same, though. He stood. “I can come bac—”
“But I’ve got a few minutes—was just about to take my break. Talk away,” Mach settled in again on the side of the desk.
Linx felt like he was seven again, hoping the neighbor kids could come play in his first stab at a garage band. Back then, they had trashed instruments. That didn’t stop them from trying. They’d played on orange buckets from The Home Depot, an old piano he’d pulled off the sidewalk, ready to get hauled to the dump, and his very first cheap ass guitar his grandma bought him for Christmas.
“Brek says you guys want to go next level.” Linx leaned forward, arms slung over his knees.
Mach nodded. “Tanner and I do.”
Just the two of them? Linx’s brows raised right along with his surprise.
“John runs the shop.” Mach hooked a thumb toward where John was still helping the lady at the counter. Helping had definitely encroached on pickup territory, by the looks of it.
“He’s not interested in record deals. And Larry only hangs out with us because we force him to.” Mach smiled in a way that suggested it wasn’t too hard to get Larry to play along. “Since he retired, he’s been hoping we can find someone to take his spot.”
“Gotcha.” Linx pressed his forefingers together and pushed them against his lips. “You and Tanner, though? You want to do the whole rock ’n roll-for-real thing?”
“Who doesn’t?” Mach grinned wider. “Well, except John and Larry.” He added a half-hearted shrug for good measure.
“Well, then you boys are in luck because I’m your fairy fucking-godmother.” Linx nodded once in firm agreement with his own statement.
Mach let out a small breath of air. “What?”
“I want to help you,” Linx confirmed what he thought had been perfectly obvious before.
Mach didn’t seem to buy it. For the first time since they’d entered the room, he frowned. “Why?”
Why? Uh. Because?
“I need something to do,” Linx said. That sounded good enough. “Brek suggested I use my—how did he say it?—‘Talents and considerable charm’ to help you guys nab the attention of a label. Figure I’ll call my agent once you’re ready and have him give you guys a listen. We can go from there. See where the road takes us.”
“Yeah. Uh…” Mach rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t…”
“You don’t want to learn from the best?” Linx asked. He kept his tone light, but what the fuck was wrong with learning from him?
