Page 116 of Under the Ink

Stopping his BMW at the corner stop sign, Walker asked, “Do you want to get out here or would you rather—”

“No. This is good,” she said. When Ginny turned around in the front passenger seat, Naomi leaned forward, giving her one last hug. “You guys have fun. See you when you get back.”

When she let go of her friend, Walker said, “Thank you for sharing this wonderful woman with me. She is a light in the world.”

“Aw,” Ginny said, scrunching her shoulders and grinning.

“You make her happy, Walker. And you guys…you’re perfect for each other. She’s notmineto share.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around anyway.”

Naomi smiled—because even though Walker was as kind and gracious as his new wife, she knew that things from here on out would be different.

But maybe they would be fine.

No. They would be better. Even if Sage refused to accept her apology.

After she hopped out of the car, she said, “Love you guys.” Then she closed the door and waved as Walker turned his car onto Main Street.

Turning, she focused her attention on the intimidating building that she’d walked past more times than she could remember.

In the daylight.

Tonight, the music was loud and she could hear it clearly even out on the sidewalk. Several people were outside smoking—and Naomi knew by the smell that it wasn’t all cigarettes and vapes.

But wait…she knew this song. It was “Kindest Brutality,” the third-to-last song in their set. Unless, of course, they were mixing it up for their hometown. Moving past some of the bodies crammed around the entrance, Naomi reached the front door, wondering if she’d even be able to get inside. There were several small posters plastering the door, announcing that Shock Treatment was playing tonight, following two local bands as the opening acts.

When she opened the door, her nostrils were assaulted by the smell of beer and old whiskey. And then she could actuallyfeelthe music. The place was definitely packed, but she could still move around. From the entrance, she could barely see the stage because it was over to the left in a bigger area. The actualdrinkingbar was straight ahead and, in this section, there were merch tables—not just for Shock Treatment but smaller ones for the other bands.

She found she loved the feeling of being on this side of the stage—because working as Sage’s tech for all those months, she hadn’t gotten to sense the show as an audience member. After having heard their playlist during more than sixty shows, she had grown to love the lyrics and the sound like she’d never loved music before.

And she was excited that she’d get to see at least a little bit of this show.

“Stamp,” said a guy at the door, and she realized he’d shouted it at her more than once.

“Excuse me?”

“If you don’t have a stamp, I need to see your ID.”

“Oh.” Yeah, that was probably a good call. In just a few seconds, she had a red stamp on the back of her hand that simply saidBad Boys.

Unfortunately, itdidn’tblend in with her tattoos.

Glancing at the merch table for Shock Treatment, she realized she recognized the guy running it. He was one of the people she’d hardly met because she didn’t work closely with him, and he rode the other bus with the security and special effects guys. But she thought she remembered his name. When she made her way through all the people and got close, she stood behind a guy buying a t-shirt—so she eyed the ones hanging at the back of the booth, trying to decide which one she wanted.

Then she saw the prices. For a quick second, she wondered who the hell would pay that much for one of those shirts…but she was getting ready to do it herself. Obviously, lots of people.

While she waited in line, she looked more closely at the designs—and found the perfect one: the album art and the wordsShock Treatment Punish This Touron the front. She knew the dates and cities of this leg of the tour were on the back, so it would be a beautiful yet practical reminder of all the places she’d visited during this particular summer of her life.

Finally, it was her turn. “Vince, right?”

“Hey, yeah. What’re you doin’ front of house, missy?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Name’s Naomi. And my last day on tour was in Detroit, so I’m not working tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’d you leave?”

“Lots of reasons—but I was only a temp anyway.”

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