Page 78 of The Bridges I've Burned

“You can stay,” he clarified with a knowing grin.

“You should stay,” Hendrix added. “I love an audience.”

“That’s an understatement.” Zander laughed as I headed over to the oversized chair that sat diagonally from the couch.

I noticed the way his eyes followed me, like a predator tracking its prey. It sent a shiver down my spine.

“Hey”—Hendrix shrugged—“not all of us can be rock stars.”

Zander glared at his best friend before he turned to me. “He’s kidding. He’s just jealous ’cause the only session work he’s done is in the studio.”

“Someone’s gotta stay home and keep the plants watered.”

“You guys live together?” I guessed.

Zander nodded. He’d switched out his acoustic for an electric guitar today. I’d noticed Hendrix haul in a large guitar case, and I’d wondered what was inside. “Yeah, we’ve been roommates forever, but we were sick of renting, so we went in on a place together a couple of years ago.”

“That’s impressive. The housing market in California is insane.”

They both nodded as they got situated. Hendrix also had an electric guitar strapped around his chest. Or was it a bass? I was a little rusty. It’d been ages since I had been in front of a live band and not just listening to one through my earbuds.

“How about you, Elena?” Hendrix asked. “You own a big old house in Richmond?”

He knows where I’m from? Zander must have filled him in.

I shook my head, laughing. “Hell no. I barely see the inside of my apartment. Why the hell would I want an entire house? But I do own it—my apartment, that is. Paid for it in cash.”

“No shit?” Hendrix was impressed. “You must be a damn good lawyer.”

As usual, my mom’s cutting words came to mind.

Not good enough, apparently.

My face must have betrayed my emotions because Zander turned to his friend. “Let’s get this going, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Any requests?”

“Oh, um…what do you know?” I asked. “Give me a few to choose from.”

They both just looked at each other and then back at me.

Zander feigned shock. “You wound me, Elena.”

“What? What do you mean? It’s a valid question.”

“No,” he argued, “it’s not. Now, try again. Any requests?”

I let out a huff of frustration. There was no way the two of them could possibly know every freaking song on the planet. “‘Stairway to Heaven’?”

“Too predictable.” Hendrix looked insulted. “Try again.”

“Fine,” I sighed, wondering just how vast their song catalog could be. So, I went for something a bit different. “‘Wicked Game.’” Chris Isaak’s voice was fucking hot.

A wicked smile spread across Zander’s face. “Done.”

They both fiddled around with dials on their amps and their instruments, and then a minute later, Zander gave Hendrix a nod. With one foot on the pedal and the other bouncing out a beat, they started.

For most of us, a career was just something we did during the day to put food on the table at night. For Zander, his career was an extension of his soul. From the very first note, he had me.

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