Page 22 of Shattered Chords

It came out of nowhere. We tried not to discuss our personal issues while bonding with Mother Nature, because the whole point of it was to get away from everyday problems and clear our minds. But I suspected things in his life weren’t as simple as he’d led me to believe.

“That’s fucked up, man.” I sighed.

“I gotta tell ya…” He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. “Women are evil.”

“I happened to like them.”

“I happened to like them too, brother, but it’s more of a love-hate thing right now. Just wait till one gets you to marry her and then shows her true colors.” He tried to hide the bitterness in his tone, but it still showed.

“Uh, not likely.” I squatted down and plucked a blade of grass from the ground. “I’m not the marrying type.” I couldn’t imagine myself being tied to one woman for the rest of my life. My gypsy soul liked to wander. There was a reason I’d never wanted to settle down in a fucking house with a fireplace, a yard, and a pool.

“I thought so too before I met Shanice.” Malik shook his head, and sweat dripped down his temple from underneath the visor and onto his thick chain with a cross that he never took off. “Now I’m broke.” He drew a deep breath and attempted to infuse some bravado into his words as if this was all a joke. “But hey, she was a good fuck.”

“A very expensive high-end escort.”

“Right.” Malik broke into mad laughter. “You’re all right.” He leaned over and slapped my back. “Come on, let’s get going before you burn.”

“You can crash at my place if you need somewhere to stay for the time being,” I said, getting to my feet. “I have an extra bedroom. Well, four actually.” I had a pool house too.

“Nah. I’m eyeing a two-bedroom condo in Malibu, but I think I’ll get the divorce finalized before putting in an offer. Or she’ll want a piece of it too.”

We headed back toward the trail.

“If you change your mind, the offer stands.”

“Want my advice, Dante?” He spun to face me and started to jog backward. “Don’t ever fucking fall in love.”

By the time we returned to the Jeep, it was almost noon and we were sweating buckets. The sun didn’t joke around. I felt the heat deep in my bones. If not for the strongest sunblock that I’d had to reapply every twenty minutes, I’d would’ve been on fire.

“We’ll have to leave at six on Friday,” Malik said, looking up at the sky. There were no clouds at all. Not even one. Just an endless stretch of washed-out blue hanging high above the mountains.

Malik rounded the vehicle and popped the back open.

Wired, arms loose, legs cramping, I paced. Small puffs of dust danced beneath my sneakers. My blood pounded and my muscles hurt. This had been a good workout. I’d burned a whole lot of frustration today, but the itch was there.

I needed a cigarette.

My mind was still reeling after the strange encounter with the redhead at the guitar shop the other day. I even considered that the woman may have put some kind of spell on me. Watching her reminded me of a documentary I’d seen once on Discovery Channel in my hotel room in London while I was on tour. I’d been high as fuck, but bits and pieces of that film had imprinted on my brain for good. Camille was like a tigress protecting her cub, claws out, ready to jump me. It was...sexy.

I’d dreamed of sunflowers that night.

“Here.” Malik tossed me a bottle of water, yanking me out of my thoughts.

I screwed the cap off and emptied it in three gulps.

Malik pulled the door of the Jeep open and started the engine and the AC. We had to wait for a few minutes before the air inside cooled off.

“Hey, no one asked you for an autograph today, man,” he joked.

I pulled off my bandana and let the wind rustle my wet hair. “I’m yesterday’s news.”

Last month, when we drove up to Point Mugu, some couple had stalked us for nearly an hour before they’d mustered up enough courage to ask for a selfie with me. I’d refused to pose for a camera sweaty and after a fucking stroke, but I’d signed their T-shirts and the girl’s breast. She’d said she was going to get my signature inked. I’d been surprised women still wanted my scribbles on their bodies. I was an asshole. But then again, assholes were popular.

“I gotta see you play for real one of these days,” Malik said.

“Eventually.” I nodded.

He didn’t know who I was when we’d met and I’d had no idea who he was either, but I’d caught his vibe and consulted Google later on.

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