Page 247 of Fury

“Hell yes, you bet.” Butler went across the bar to the front. He spoke with a heavy set man who stood by the entrance with the hostess and two security types. A few moments later he gave me a thumbs up and brought the man over to us.

Butler introduced Malcom, the owner of Pete’s to me and Beck.

“Great to meet you, Beck,” said Malcom. “I know your mom, and I was a big Cruel Fate fan back in the day. It’d be a real thrill to have you play here tonight.”

Beck’s face lit up. “Means a lot to me, thanks. I don’t want to step on anyone’s time though. One song only.”

“It’s actually a slow night tonight. You’d be doing me a favor. You can open the next set.”

“Wow, great. Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“What do you need, Beck?” I asked. “A guitar, a piano?”

Beck rubbed his hands together, eyes wide, gears churning. “Yeah, I don’t have my guitar with me—”

“No worries,” said Malcom. “Johnny Z from my house band can hook you up no problem. Let me introduce you.”

They left together. Butler clapped a hand on my shoulder, a thick blond eyebrow arched. “Come over and sit with us.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

“Ah, you’re both big boys.”

“Another time. Not just yet. Not tonight.”

“Whatever you say. I’m looking forward to hearing Beck play.”

“Me too.”

Butler went back to the Jacks’ table as Lenore returned to me at the bar.

“Did you want to sit with your girls over there?” I asked her.

“I want to sit with you. Right here’s good.” She slid her arm through mine and kissed me. “Where’s Beck?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we’ve got a special guest with us,” Malcolm’s voice boomed over the mike. “Please welcome to Pete’s, Beck Lanier. His mom lives right here in Meager. You many know his dad, Eric Lanier of Cruel Fate.” The crowd applauded and cheered. “Beck’s band Freefall is on tour right now with The Heave. And tonight, Beck’s here and he’s gonna play for us.”

“Holy shit, did you know about this?” Lenore asked over the din of the applause. Butler let out a shrill whistle.

“Sort of happened this minute.”

Her eyes were glued to her son adjusting the microphone and settling his hands around an acoustic guitar. The clapping died down.

Beck leaned into the mic. “This is for you, Mom.”

Lenore pressed into me.

Beck played an intricate web of chords, making that wooden instrument in his hands sing.

“Your eye was full,

Full of the sea

A raging sea

You never hid the world from me

You thought I couldn’t,

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