Page 73 of Shattered Chords

Something volatile.

Something old.

Something potentially destructive.

I waited for it to slam into me, but when he spoke, his tone was calm and measured. “I’m tired of hating you for things we did to each other years ago that don’t even matter anymore. I want to live the rest of my life in peace.”

“Well, that’s commendable, Frankie-boy. I don’t want to fight anymore either. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He gave me a dazzling smile.

I didn’t reciprocate. Because I didn’t fully believe that this was real, that we were talking.

“I can get my lawyer to contact yours, if that’s how you want it done,” he started. “But that’s not why I’m here actually.”

“Well, I always knew you were full of surprises. Why are you here? To invite me to your wedding?”

It was a joke, but he remained solemnly still and silent.

“Are you shitting me?” I asked, a tad puzzled, my gaze trained on Snowflake, who was exiting the room, who was probably tired of our bickering and needed more fun things to chew.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me. There’s going to be a party at my house. I need a guitarist.”

“Did you write your better half a love song?” I laughed lightheartedly.

Frank continued to stare.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I keep making fun of your wholesome relationship.” I schooled my expression into a serious one. “So you need a guitarist?”

He nodded.

I considered it, then remembered how I botched my “Ambivalent” solo the other day during my practice. Fear, dark and unbidden, crept through me. “Look, Frankie-boy…” There was a pause because my brain blanked, the words I was going to speak evaporating into thick nothingness.

A muscle in his jaw feathered, but he didn’t say anything. He just regarded me with an expectant glare.

“I’m not ready to play in front of an audience, however small it may be.”

“Will you come to the party at least? I’d like to have you there.”

“Sure. I’ll come and hang out.”

“Great.” He seemed happy about my decision.

“So who’s your second choice? The guitarist?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet. I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Frankie-boy.” I was craving a cigarette badly. I needed to get rid of all this pent-up energy that had gathered within me.

Malik was my fucking saving grace. A timely distraction from this odd conversation we were having. I’d heard him padding through the house after he emerged from the small basement gym I never used.

Snowflake was nuzzling his feet when Frank and I entered the kitchen. Malik’s T-shirt was drenched. Sweat rolled down his massive neck and chest in thick rivulets as he emptied a bottle of water, then opened a second one.

I introduced him to Frank and they shook hands and exchanged perfunctory greetings. There was an aura of tension between them during the first couple of minutes and I had the distinct feeling that they were apprising each other like true alphas would.

“I heard about the lawsuit,” Malik said to Frank brazenly once they’d become more or less acquainted. “Sorry to hear about that.”

“It’ll sort itself out,” Frank said evenly.

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