Page 49 of A Boy Called Lovesong

At that point, Maybelle patted the back of my hand laying on the table.

“So, tell me, Mr. Van Owen…”

“Please, call me Noah.”

“So, tell me, Noah. What do you think of my moonshine?”

I took a sip and wheezed. “It’s strong.”

“And what do you think of Clara’s Crossing?”

I hesitated then answered, “It’s strange, in a lost-in-time kinda way.”

“That’s Louisiana. It’s the way we like it down here.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong… I’m just not used to a place like this.”

“And what do you think of our Lovesong?”

That question I couldn’t answer, so I deflected. “Is Lovesong his real name? I mean, I know it’s not his real name. He said on the tape that his name’s Lafayette Valentin. So why the hell does he call himself Lovesong?”

Maybelle looked at me quizzically. “What tape?”

Oh fuck.

The tape.

I mentioned the tape?

Oh fuck, I totally just mentioned the tape.

And where was the tape even?

Oh fuck, it was still in the Dynasty in Earl’s workshop.

Fuck!

I stood in a panic.

My chair fell over with a loud bang.

Lovesong’s fingers fumbled on the keys at hearing the commotion and he stopped playing.

“Noah?” asked Maybelle. “You all right?”

I nodded, and pushed my way to the door of the juke joint, my head spinning from the moonshine.

I knocked over another chair.

“What’s going on?” Lovesong asked, standing from his piano stool.

Leroy moved to catch me, to try to help me. “Noah, everything okay? Slow down.”

“I’m fine, I just need some air, that’s all,” I told him loudly, shoving passed his bulky frame for the door. “I just need—”

Suddenly the door opened, and I came face to face with Reverend Jim, looming large and shadowy in the doorway.

I pulled to a sharp halt and everyone in the bar fell suddenly silent.

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