He’d had lots of practice with this, and the easiest thing to say in response was always, "Thanks."
Because if he said anything else it opened him up to more questions and it was none of their damn business. But, then again, this was Darla. And they’d only known each other for half a second in the grand scheme of things, but it also felt like they’d known each other forever, too.
"Youcan ask me about it," he said. "If you want."
She seemed to understand what a big thing this was, and he waited for her to ask away. But she didn’t. Instead, she hauled his ass into another souvenir shop and bought a Hollywood snow globe with the Hollywood sign right there in the center.
They headed back to the bike ready to head off on the next phase of this adventure when he caught the guitar guy from earlier out of the corner of his eye. He was still there, his fingers still strumming across the strings like they had before. There was something special about him that made Mach believe he could be somebody someday if someone noticed him.
He pulled on Darla’s hand and eyed the guy. "Do you mind?"
Darla shook her head and followed him.
“Hey, man," Mach said. "You can seriously play. You got a name?"
“Hey, Fifty," Dude said. "Thanks, and it’s Sawyer."
"Fifty?" Darla asked.
"’Cause he gave me a fifty," Sawyer finished with a shit-eating grin.
"I’m Mach." He held out his hand. "I play for Dimefront, yeah?"
The guy lit up like a sparkler and the air of casual confidence disintegrated.
"Holy shit." He pushed his hair out of his face and stumbled to stand up. Not because he seemed drunk or anything, his feet just got in the way.
Mach understood that—the tripping over yourself because you got excited. He just never thought it’d happen because somebody met him.
"I thought you looked familiar." He eyed Darla. "And you’re the girl from the tabloids. This is wild, you know this guy plays the guitar so smooth it’s like butter." He gestured to Mach.
That’s a compliment Mach hadn’t received before.
"You two should play something," Darla suggested, and the suggestion definitely felt more like a nudge.
"Yeah, man, totally," Guitar Dude pulled the guitar over his head and handed it over to Mach.
"So, Sawyer, huh?" Mach asked, strumming the guitar and getting a feel for the strings. Every guitar was different, felt heavier or lighter than the others. They all had their own personality.
"Sawyer Mitchell," Sawyer replied.
"Yeah, that’s not gonna work," Mach said, pinching his lips together. "You’re gonna need something that screams rocker."
"It’s all I’ve got." Sawyer lifted his hands in apparent surrender.
"What about Strummer Sterling? Play it up, you know? Lean into the music," Mach said, still learning the language of this guitar.
"No kidding?" Strummer said. "You just gave me a stage name? This is so wild. I love it. Thanks, man."
"Do you have a stage name?" Darla asked Mach, eyes wide. "Is Mach not your real name?"
He nodded. "Nobody really wants to hear a guy named Mark Flowers play guitar, do they? I fixed it up. Made it better."
"I dig it." Strummer nodded.
"Name the song," Mach said. And Strummer glanced to Darla and then picked one of the Dimefront ballads Bax wrote for Courtney. Mach hit chords and they sang together, their voices melding into a harmony that was not bad at all. The melody was full of emotion as they worked it together.
A crowd formed, and it was awesome.
