Page 46 of A Love Song for Dreamers

I shake my head. “I’ve done it before, at some of the best clinics in thecountry.”

“Well, I like to think we have the best team here at UCLA. You’re on the schedule for three weeks from now. I sincerely hope we can get you the results you’re looking for in terms of both mobility and painmanagement.”

“Metoo.”

I leave the clinic and head outside into the sun and get into the waitingcar.

It’s not my first surgery, but I’m hoping it’ll be my last. Beck calls it my obsession, but I think of it as relentlessfocus.

Since the night a single blade destroyed what I’d worked twenty years to build, I’ve been aching for the day when I can say I’m back tomyself.

I have a few hours before I need to be at the venue for sound check for the benefit concert tonight. I scan the set list, which I’ll go over again with my band once I getthere.

For the most part, I do vocals and some light chords. The lead guitarist who plays with me is probably good enough to play harder assignments than what I give him, but it makes me envious to hear him doit.

To deal with the monotony of traffic, I go through my email, firing off responses to anything urgent and leaving most of it where it is. After, I open the list of demos Shay sent through from localbands.

I listen to the first, then skip to thenext.

Anotherskip.

I let the third one ride a moment. It’s sultry andraw.

I glance at my phone to see what itis.

It’s Shay. Not another band, buther.

It’s simple, but catchy, and the vocals feel fresh andreal.

I file that away as the car reaches my destination, a toy store in LaBrea.

Inside, I tell the clerk, “I need a present for a friend’s kid. She’s four and ahalf.”

“Get her a book on manipulating guys,” comes a familiar voice from behind me before the clerk can respond. “It must be some secret coming-of-age thing, because all chicks seem to know it by the time they’retwelve.”

I turn toward Beck and grin, clapping him on the back. He looks every part the actor in jeans, boots, and a white T-shirt. His aviators are shoved back on hishead.

“Thanks for meeting me,” I say. “Tell me you haven’t burned down the apartmentyet.”

“Nah, but you might want to stay in itsometime.”

I shake my head. The two-bedroom place we share is way bigger than the New York apartment we had until I left on tour and that Beck kept untilgraduation.

“I’m heading out again in a couple of days. I made a deal to help Jax out with his new studio.” I huff out a breath as I scan the shelves for a gift forSophie.

“You’re supposed to be inyourstudio. Recording atyourlabel,” he reminds me. “The one who paysyourincome, which covers half ofourrent.”

“Thank you for that lesson in pronouns. I have three weeks until my surgery so I’m taking avacation.”

I pick up a puzzle. Maybe Sophie’s into these. Something with fish or birds, exotic ones she wouldn’t see inDallas.

“A vacation with Annie Jamieson. I saw your post the other night. You might not’ve tagged her, but you’re sobusted.”

“Nothing to bust. We hungout.”

But my abs clench under my shirt at the sound of hername.

The purple dump truck on the shelf triggers my memory that Sophie’s into things with wheels. I lift it off the shelf as Beck grins. “I bet youdid.”

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