Page 138 of Getting it Right (Addy's Rollercoaster)

“Yeah,” Claire said.

“Absolutely,” Tommy said.

“Great.” Wearing his serious band-leader expression, Kyle typed the titles into his phone.

Another difference from the ABCR days. I’d written the set lists down on a piece of paper.

“Do we want to add anything original?” he asked.

Tommy scoffed. “Do we have anything original?”

“I don’t write music.” Kyle exhaled heavily. “But I have riffs.” He tapped his temple. “Loads of ’em in here.”

Tommy wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I write poetry. Shit that would probably work.”

The boy was so much like his father, in that and many things.

I noticed Rachel wandering over to the stage, a round bar tray tucked under her arm. “I have a bunch of old lyrics that I wrote but ABCR never used.”

My smile widened. I guess I wasn’t the only one listening closely to their microphone-amplified rehearsal.

“You do?” Claire asked her mom. “Where?”

I wondered about that too. I’d helped transfer what few belongings they had from their Lakeside mansion to my tiny apartment, but I didn’t remember moving anything like that.

“There’s pages of them, underneath my sweaters in a box under the bed.”

“I’d love to look at them with you,” Claire said, looking incredibly curious.

Hell yeah. I would too. I thought all the ABCR music had been lost.

Kyle gave Rachel an eager look. “Any old recordings?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” she said. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”

“I’ll check with my dad.” Tommy bobbed his head.

I made a mental note to talk to Barry too. It would be really cool if he had something like that.

“We can go through my songs after work if you want.” Rachel glanced at her daughter. “I could play them for you on my guitar.”

Claire smiled at her mother. “I’d love that.”

It was huge, those two doing the sharing last night like Rachel had mentioned, and now this, bonding over music. One of the happy tears in my eyes spilled over, and I swiped it away.

“Rachel.” A patron waved to get her attention.

She winced. “Gotta get back to work.” She turned and moved away.

“It’s getting late.” Kyle frowned as his phone dinged once, then again and again. He swiped his fingers over the display, his gaze moving as he read the messages. When he glanced up, his eyes were stormy and his frown had deepened.

“Who is it?” Claire asked him, looking scared.

I slipped out from behind the bar without even thinking about it and moved toward them.

“Work.” Kyle shook his head.

Where did he work? That topic hadn’t come up.

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