“Sure,” Michael finally replied.
Henri and Lucas plunked down in two wooden seats designed for the fifth and sixth graders who unknowingly learned music from one of the finest musicians to ever live, in Henri’s opinion. Michael didn’t climb on the stage of the school music room. Instead he perched on a stool a few feet away, snugging the guitar up to his chest. Mother-of-pearl inlay spelled out “Sylvia.” He still named his instruments, did he? His fingers flitted over the strings, faster than the eye could follow. And this was just his warm-up.
A small smile lifted the edges of his mouth, and he stared down at his Gibson, never once glancing up at his audience of two. The smile fell. The music began, dozens of notes, faster than lightning. Pleading, begging, tugging at the heart. Desperation. Longing. All from six strings.
The hairs on Henri’s arms rose. Seb. He needed Seb. The comfort of the man’s warmth, the security of being held. He pictured his lover, head back, eyes closed, arms thrown wide as if to embrace the music.
If this haunting melody came from Michael’s pimply teenaged years, he’d win Grammies with the compositions he probably still hammered out every night and stored in a notebook. Henri’d been privileged to take a look inside the notebook. He sat in the presence of greatness. And Michael had no clue.
Now for Henri to find a way to overcome the man’s one small obstacle.
* * *
TheEnterthe DragonBruce Lee T-shirt was Henri’s first hint of Colton Ferguson marching to the beat of his own drummer—the headband came in second. The keyboardist’s choice of “Kung Fu Fighting” for his audition put the icing on the cake. But damn, he gave the song his all.
“Okay, but try this.” Henri handed over a music sheet for a new number he’d been working on.
Colton hit a few random chords, staring at the sheet, then launched into the melody only before heard in Henri’s head. Colton paused and scratched his head. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure?” Now the audition got interesting.
“Instead of…” Colton pecked out a simple measure. “… how about….” His fingers raced over the keyboard.
“Do that again.” Henri added vocals to the score. Colton was right. A little tweaking went a long way. “I like it.”
Colton bowed.
“He realizes he’s from Topeka and not Hong Kong, right?” Lucas side-whispered.
“I don’t care where he’s from,” Henri replied. “We’ve found our man for keyboards.”
“Actually, Bruce was born in San Francisco, not Hong Kong,” Henri’s new keyboardist offered.
* * *
“Jake Steadman,damn but I’m glad to meet you.” In his teen years Henri had idolized Alternate Phantasm,Jake’s former band. And Jake’s mean bass playing stood out in his memory.
“You sure you want an old fart like me uglying up your band?” Jake reared back in his rocking chair, propping a pair of worn cowboy boots on the porch railing. He’d come a long way from packed auditoriums to an aging farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
“If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have come all the way to Wyoming to track your ass down.” Jake had the skills, his band had broken up, and as he’d alluded to, a whole lot of younger competition vied for any available openings. Henri wanted Jake. He needed a bass player, and a good one, with a proven track record. Jake needing the money might encourage loyalty too. But never far from Henri’s thoughts were how he’d spend the extra days if he managed to put his band together early.
Henri had made up his mind. Lucas played businessman. “Come out to LA for a few rehearsals. See what you think and if you fit in.”
“Oh, I’ll fit in all right. Got me a chance to back up Henri Lafontaine? A man would have to be crazy to pass up such an offer.” Jake’s drawl “could melt ice,” as Henri’s late grandma used to say.
His favorite bassist had heard his music? “Really?”
“Sure. Got a teenaged daughter who plays your music from sunup to sundown.” Jake winked. “But I won’t hold a rebellious kid’s taste in music against you. She will, however, kick my ass if I say no to her idol.”
Henri left Jake and Lucas to hash out the details. He had a phone call to make.
“Seb? You wouldn’t happen to be free, would you? I’ve got four days, and I want to spend them with you. “
Another reason to come to Casper to visit Jake in person: only a four and a half hour ride to Evergreen. Lucas didn’t know it yet, but he was about to take a flight back to LA and leave Henri the rental car. Ah, nice to be the rock god calling the shots.
* * *
Henri shaveda half hour off the GPS’s estimated time of arrival, and didn’t even bother to grab the bags he’d stowed in the trunk. He ran, kicking up dust in Seb’s front yard, and bounded up the stairs two at a time. Seb met him at the front door, stark naked, dragged him inside the house, and slammed the door. Maybe he’d missed Henri after all.
