Page 75 of Reverb
Mish sat still, her eyes closed, in the studio as everyone moved and gestured around her. David fought the urge to go to her side. There were already too many people in that small space.
Domino sat next to her, still and silent. His focus seemed to be on his hands.
“Shit,” Adrian murmured.
David thought of Dom’s comment on the bus. “Don’t worry about Dom. I’m going to ring that fucker’s neck first.”
Silence stretched before Adrian spoke again. “You know, you’d look hideous in orange, David.”
Maybe. He rubbed his chin. “I don’t like death. I’ve seen too much of it. But this fucker...”
Mish opened her eyes and flicked them up to meet his. Her shoulders dropped. She rose, seemingly oblivious to the people around her, and strode out of the studio. That unrooted David. He met her in the hallway.
Everything in his chest was painful and full of danger. All the words in his mind. He uttered only one. “Mish.”
She gave a single shake of her head. “I need air.”
He pushed his own anger and fear away. “Let’s see if there’s somewhere private you can go.” Because the front parking lot would still hold fans, all of whom had just heard that creeper speak.
They worked their way to the reception desk, and David spoke to both the guard and the receptionist while Mish stood back. When he returned, she held her body so rigidly and her lips were set in a line so sharp he could have used them to slice stone. “There’s a loading dock in the back of building. There’s only one way back there from the outside, and there’s security, so there shouldn’t be any fans.”
“Good.” That was all she said.
He led her in the direction the guard had told him. Down a corridor, around a corner, and through a nondescript door out onto the dock. The area smelled of cool concrete and oil, but beyond the rolled up dock doors shone sunlight. He headed down another short set of stairs and out into the day.
The guard had been right—there was little back here but a few cars, a high chain-link fence and a driveway that turned around to the front of the building. Mish had stopped in the shade of the dock, and he gestured to her. “There’s no one here. It’s safe.”
She slid out into the light, her arms wrapped around herself as if it were late autumn and not June.
“Nowhere is safe.” Her eyes glistened and she shook, maybe in rage, maybe in pain. Quite possibly both.
David knew that cacophony of emotions when he’d wanted to scream and hit and cry until unfairness bled away. Never really left him.
“Right here and right now, you’re safe.” He kept his voice soft, but firm. “There’s no one else. Just us.”
It was almost a laugh, her huff of breath, but there was too much sorrow in it. Mish loosened her arms, then craned her face up at the sky.
There were tears in her eyes, though they didn’t fall and made no tracks down her cheeks. “I’d scream, but I have to sing tonight.”
If there was one thing in the world that meant everything to Mish, it was being there for the fans. Mind, body, and tonight, voice.
“I guess punching something is out, too.” David shoved his hands into his pockets.
This time she did laugh. “Unless you have a hidden talent as a bass guitarist and can replace me tonight.” She flexed her fingers. “Otherwise, I need these in one piece.”
“I never learned to play an instrument, beyond those plastic recorder things in elementary school.”
“Ah, the flutophone.” Mish’s sharp expression was gone. “I had one. My mom couldn’t stand it. I think that’s why she got me a guitar.”
This was a better avenue than talking about the stalker. “How’d you learn bass, anyway? You said you moved around a lot.”
A nod. “We did. But I loved music. Wouldn’t stop playing that damn flutophone, so Mom found a half-decent acoustic guitar and some books at a thrift store and gave them to me. The music teacher at the elementary school at the time indulged me. She taught me basic fingering and we were learning to read music. So I just...studied those books. Played as much as I could.” She paused. “I was heartbroken when the guitar got smashed in a move.”
“Shit.” He almost tasted the shock and agony of a young girl discovering her beloved instrument broken.
“I cried for hours. One of two times in my life I’ve done that.”
He didn’t have to ask the other—he had a very good idea what that moment had been.
