* * *
Let himsleep!Henri stared at the clock. Was 9:00 a.m. too early to call? Poor Sebastian needed his rest. He gave up fighting and dialed at 9:05. The call went straight to voice mail. A nagging feeling wriggled in his gut. He called the hotel. “Sebastian Unger’s room, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Unger checked out last night.”
He what?With numb fingers Henri dug a business card out of his wallet and dialed the rental car company.
“Yes, sir. The car was returned before midnight.”
The phone slipped from Henri’s fingers. He followed it to the floor. Why couldn’t he fucking breathe?I never should have left. I should have said to hell with the band. Seb could be with me now, instead of God knows where.
An image came to mind: Sebastian staring at the painting of a sunny meadow, with rain in his eyes.
* * *
“Will theyfucking get back?” Henri paced the length of what passed for a dressing room, spun on his boot heel and paced some more. How fucking long could it possibly take to eat a pizza and run by a salon for Tessa to get her hair done?
“We’ve got plenty of time.” Lucas sat draped across an upholstered chair, which had seen much better days. He squirmed and checked his watch, the liar.
This wasn’t the most glamorous venue, but Henri had to start somewhere. Restart. Whatever. He’d checked his cell phone a thousand times, heart thudding each time a chime announced a new text message. Nothing from Seb.
He smoothed a hand down his vintage T-shirt to dry his sweaty palms. Why was it so damned hot in here, and where was his band?
“We’re here!” Tessa’s hair beat her into the room.
“What the fuck is that?” Henri pointed at the poof above her head.
“I told you I’m a fan of Sheila E. I’m appealing to her fellow fans.” Light makeup formed a band across her face, starting at one temple and ending at the other. She stared out from a ribbon of pink and twirled her drumsticks in her always-in-motion hands.
Colton wore eyeliner. He’d also drawn some kind of runes on himself with black body paint. “For luck.”
Henri didn’t mind the liner—he wore some himself. The runes, however, were badly drawn. Jake wore a T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, and Michael appeared ready for his middle-school class in a button-down and brown pants. What the hell? “Okay, people. Listen up. Before our next gig, we need to work on our style.” He was all for “do your own thing” but could they do it more fashionably?
As they headed out the door to the stage, Michael hung back. “What about my problem?”
“Got you covered. There’s a storage area right off the stage. There wasn’t enough room to hook up a projector, so you’ll have to play offstage. We have you plugged into the amps.” With a flourish of his hand, Henri declared, “Your office awaits.”
Tessa tugged on Michael’s arm to get his attention. “I think meditation would help. If you ever wanted me to….”
Henri tuned them out and stepped out onto the stage, heart pounding a mile a minute. In the semidarkness, the audience members all looked the same. They could be anyone. Sebastian. His sister. Or a deranged fan. Whoops and whistles met his arrival.
Tessa clashed her cymbals, Jake struck a chord, and Colton made his presence known on the keyboards. Now, if only the closet provided enough seclusion to get Michael over his stage fright. A moment later Sylvia cried out in triumph. Whew. He could play.
They opened with “Nightmare,” a song designed to catch the feel of Henri’s former band. Halfhearted applause followed. Okay. That was awkward. He peered out into the poorly lit club. Was Seb out there? Rooting him on?
They played through a few more songs, before launching into “Ice Inside.”
The opening chords got the crowd to their feet. Finally! Signs of life.
The moment of truth arrived. Henri sucked in a deep breath and… out came the elusive C. Hollers and squeals filled the air before the note died.
A grin stretched Henri’s cheeks when his band joined the revelry. To no one in particular he whispered, “I’m back.”
If only Seb were here to share the moment.
* * *
Five nightsof back-to-back shows. Five nights of lying awake at night worried about Sebastian. If Henri didn’t get some peace of mind soon, the coke rumors would start swirling again. He stumbled off the bus, shielding his eyes from the sun’s too-bright glare. Where were they, anyway? Anaheim? Again? Why the fuck did he always wind up in Anaheim?
