Page 121 of Running from the Blaze (Industrial November on Tour)

“Fuck yeah!” I roar from my spot next to Lola.

“Thanks, Karl,” Fernanda says. “But seriously. Get back here. She says she knows a kick-ass drummer who just left her old band. It’s coming together.”

I watch as Lola rolls her eyes. “But can she play?” she asks about the bass player. “Anything besides yourpanocha, I mean.”

“Lola! Don’t be so crass!”

I snort. Right. Like she didn’t just tell us about her pervert audition.

Something’s off, though. This excitement out of Fernanda surprises me. She didn’t seem quite this excited about starting a band the few times I broached the subject at the wedding. Maybe this bass player renewed excitement within her.

I stand and go around Lola’s chair to stand behind her, then duck so my face can come into the frame. Fernanda smiles at me.

“Hey, Karl,” she says.

“Sorry, Fer,” I say to Lola’s vocalist. “Lola has to go now. If we’re ending our honeymoon soon, I need to go fuck my wife.”

“Wait!” Fernanda protests, “We need a band name.”

Both Fernanda and I pause to look at Lola. She grins so incredibly wide at both of us while we wait for her answer. “I already have our band name.”

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