Page 20 of One More Time
‘Stockley Street. Two blocks off the boardwalk. At the Funland end.’
‘Got it.’
He turned left at the light onto Coastal Highway and spotted Lucy tapping her fingers on her jeans to the beat. Singing quietly along to the song.
‘You know this song?’ Nicky asked.
‘Sure,’ she said in a tone that was halfway betweenduhandhow dare you. ‘It’s Brad.’
‘No one knows this band,’ Nicky retorted.
‘Obviously, that’s not true, because I just proved that I do. Plus, I’m a bit of a Pearl Jam superfan so …’
‘Okay,’ he said, bringing his finger to the car stereo with perfect accuracy – practice made perfect. He hit fast-forward for a beat, then play. ‘How about this one?’
The tape started up right in the middle of the chorus of the next song.
She huffed, like it was the easiest ask ever. ‘The Verve,’ she replied,correctly.
At the next red light, he hit the buttons again and a new song came through the speakers.
‘Oh, getting tricky on me, are you? This is a live album, Jeff Buckley.’
‘Damn,’ he said, impressed. ‘All right, how about …’
He hit fast-forward for a little longer this time. Pushed play with a flourish and cranked up the volume, one-hundred-percent sure he’d stump her.
Sweet, fluid guitar riffs filled the Jeep. The steady thump of a slow drum echoed in the background like a heartbeat, just the framework for the groove and improvisation of the guitarist.
They traveled a mile or more, without a word from Lucy. Nicky glanced over at her. Her eyes were closed, and a smile played over her lips, just as sweet as the guitar.
‘Having trouble, sweetness?’ he asked wryly.
‘No,’ she said, grinning at him. ‘Just wanted to listen.’
His heart kicked up double time.
Her face lit up in triumph as she said, ‘It’s Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Little Wing.” And I love it. I do miss Hendrix’s lyrics, though.’
Nicky felt like someone had hit him with a bat. Right to the skull. Or, maybe the chest, because his heart was hammering against his ribs.
‘You’re the real deal, aren’t you, Lucy Rollins?’
‘I suppose that depends on your definition,’ she said as she leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes once more, like she was soaking in Stevie Ray Vaughan through her skin.
Mine, he thought.My definition.
Nicky pulled the car over abruptly. Blocking the driveway of some ritzy, oversized house in Silver Lake.
Lucy looked up in shock. ‘What’s wrong?’
Nothing was wrong. Things were so incredibly right Nicky couldn’t take it anymore.
‘Couldn’t wait,’ he said, throwing the Jeep in park.
‘Wait for what?’
Nicky leaned toward her and slid his hand over her jaw. She looked up at him, her eyes nothing but thin bands of blue in the darkness.
