Page 23 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

“At least let me show you where I’ll be and then you can wander.” He holds out his hand to me.

I hug my new-found vinyl close to my chest, careful not to bend it. “Will they mind me taking this with me when I haven’t paid for it yet?”

The door opens, and a kid walks into the store. Well, if you can call a six-foot beanpole shoving half a double decker sandwich in his mouth in one bite a kid. He looks to be between sixteen and twenty, but I’m betting he’s closer to sixteen with that peach fuzz he’s sporting on his top lip. Over his shoulder he carries a knapsack, and a black guitar case swings from his fingers. “Sorry I’m late, Nox. Training ran overtime.”

I smile at the kid when he swings his gaze my way, his whole head turning in my direction. Curiosity, and a little unwanted appreciation show in his brown eyes for the couple of seconds before he focuses on his teacher.

“That’s all right, West.” Nox says as the kid approaches.

“You can cut my lesson short if it helps.”

“It’s fine, really,” Nox reassures him. “I’m running late myself. Let me introduce you to my...”

Oh please no. Don’t introduce me as your wife. Don’t make it awkward for yourself. Don’t make it so you have to explain the hows and whys when we divorce as soon as possible. At least not with this kid. “Friend. I’m Nox’s friend, Beck. It’s nice to meet you, West.”

“You too.” He clings to that guitar case with both hands.

“Okay, well, we should head back and get started.” Nox turns and walks to the wall of booths. They’re old school individual rooms for listening to music that sort of remind me of British telephone boxes. “You can bring your vinyl, Beck.”

“If you’re sure.” I hurry after him and West. He opens a door at the other end of the booths and holds it open, inviting us to walk in first.

“Nice covering,” he says as he closes the door behind me. West is already at the top of the stairs.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper while I wait for him to go ahead of me.

Glancing over his shoulder as he jogs up the stairs, he says, “That’s another thing we’ll have to talk about.”

West is set up when I enter the room. His Fender Strat is plugged in and he’s tuning it. Another stool is opposite his and more than a dozen guitars hang on the closest wall. It takes my breath away. “Is that a Les Paul standard 59? And is that an original Telecaster? These are beautiful.”

“Aren’t they?” West agrees, grinning. “They don’t get played enough though.”

“Okay, come on. I have another lesson after you.” Nox props himself on the empty stool and rests his palms on his thighs. “So we better get a move on.”

Are these all Nox’s guitars? He said he used to play. I just didn’t imagine...but he is Dalton Casey’s son. And he does have great hands. His fingering skills must be exceptional. Oh God, they were exceptional. “I should leave you to it. I still need to make that phone call.” I back up. “And pay for the record.”

“Tell Lou when she pops her head up from wherever she was hiding, that you want a Casey special.”

“A Casey special?”

He grins. “Trust me on this.”

“Okay.” It’s hard not to smile back. His grin is contagious.

“How’d you do with that Chilli Peppers song you were talking about last week?” He turns his attention back to West.

“It’s coming along,” West says as I turn and start down the stairs.

By the time I reach the door that leads back into the store he’s playing in earnest. Inside the store is quiet. The upstairs must be sound proofed. I take my Violent Nation album to the register and lay it down on the counter, but there’s no one around. Lou, whoever she is, doesn’t pop out from behind the counter or the room off to the side.

Pulling my phone out of my bag, I call my lawyer while I wander toward the windows that overlook the street. Please let it be possible for me to get out of this marriage with a simple confession.

According to my lawyer, it could be that easy. Almost. If I can prove that I was coerced into marrying this guy and find a judge to void the whole wedding. The confession would help a lot. Especially if I can get Nox to go into detail. And my lawyer might know the judge to help me. It could be almost pain free.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

I turn to face the woman as she dumps a heavy carton on the counter. “You must be Lou.”

“I am.” She dusts her hands off on her black pants, her dark ponytail bouncing with the rapid movement. “I’m sorry. We’re not actually open for this evening yet.”

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