Page 15 of Verses

“‘Nothing Else Matters’.”

“Oh, fuck. Classic.”

Wolf simply shrugged, picking up a glass from behind the bar, drying it with a towel.

“When’s the last time you played?”

“In front of an audience? It’s been a long time. But I play my guitars several times a week.”

Raising his brown eyebrows, Pedro said, “Guitars?Nice. I, uh…I don’t suppose you’d want to show us your chops now.”

Wolf laughed. “I don’t bring my guitar to work. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not here to play guitar. I’m here to serve liquor.”

Adrian ran his hand through his short, light brown hair before his eyes lit up. “Kyle leaves his guitar here every night. It’s up there on stage in the case.”

Pedro said, “I feel like we’re jumping the gun.”

I’d been loving the conversation up till now—but it felt like Pedro had just stomped on the brakes. I asked, “What do you mean?”

Luckily for him, he refrained from rolling his eyes, but I could hear it in his voice nonetheless. Turning his attention back to Wolf, he said, “Would you evenwantto play in our band?” Wolf seemed to ponder his question, but Pedro continued. “I mean, what’s the reason you stopped playing in a band in the first place?”

“There were lots of reasons. But the main one was that we there was no money in it.”

The boys and I had always convinced ourselves thatsomedaythere would be money to be made. But right now, as The Apothecary’s supposed house band, we didn’t make shit. That was no secret. “Well…”

“But I don’t have a wife to support anymore, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Whoa. Wait a minute. He’d had a wife?

But it made sense. He was forty-three. Of course, he’d had at least one serious relationship throughout his life—so it shouldn’t have been any surprise that he’d been married in the past.

Why wasn’t he now, though?Thatwas the question I really wanted an answer to.

Pedro asked, “Is that ayes?”

“It’s amaybe.” Polishing another glass, Wolf said, “I kind of like the idea of getting back on stage—but only if Kyle is okay with it. If he’s not…”

But Pedro wasn’t about to be deterred. “Are you comfortable playing lead?”

“Yeah. In my old band, I was the only guitarist, so that’s what I’m used to.”

“Then I want to hear you play. Kyle’s guitar is waiting for you, dude.”

Wolf set the glass down under the counter, but it was easy to see the internal debate reflected in his eyes—so I was surprised with his answer. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I played a little something. The bar’s not busy yet.”

“Fuck yes!” Pedro got onstage before Wolf had even made it out from behind the bar, and he was busy hooking up the guitar to an amp.

I turned to Adrian and said, “Let’s get a better seat for the show.”

The drummer actually smiled for the first time since he’d arrived and stood, picking up his beer. I took my glass of water, and by the time Wolf had pulled the strap over his shoulders so that the guitar hung low on the front of his body, my bandmate and I were sitting at a small table right in front of him.

Wolf was running scales or whatever the hell Kyle called it when he was tuning his guitar. I’d always pretended I knew exactly what he was doing—but I rarely said anything, trying to make sure no one discovered my shameful secret.

Wolf said, “It’s been a while. Be nice.”

As I watched Wolf’s fingers move over the strings expertly, I knew we wouldn’t need tobenice, because he was insanely good.And then I caught myself actually salivating. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d always just thought it was becauseKylehad been holding the guitar that had made me feel all warm inside…but maybe it was just guitarists in general.

Or maybe it was this weird crush I was starting to develop for the man currently onstage.

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