Page 38 of Knocked Up by a Rockstar

“That’s the thing. She looked obviously older than when she disappeared. Like she’d aged well, and clearly kept herself looking good, but she clearly had new lines on her face.”

I sobered and let it sink in. “What on earth do you think he’s doing with Priscilla Lamb in his boardroom? He can’t have kidnapped her back in the eighties. He would only have been... being born then...” I trailed off as I had a bizarre thought. Or was it? Was it bizarre?

Luna was nodding. “That was the only possible theory I could come up with. He was – he was talking about all of your mothers – sorry, NDA – but when I asked him about his own, he closed up and ended the session. That’s what made me think of it. But it would kind of... align, wouldn’t it? Am I crazy? Did he ever talk about his mom, back when you weren’t enemies?”

I shook my head. “No. Never. He was just as cagey back then. He’d listen to us tell all our family stories, alright. But he’d never share any of his own. If we asked him, he’d react like you saw – shut down, back off.”

She met my eyes. “This is so... weird.”

“It is. But thank you for bringing it to me. This really could be something useful. And even if it isn’t, we got a good laugh out of it.”

“Remember, if you do want to use it, you have to run it by me first. I don’t wanna get gunned down by your brother just because you decided to make a jab at him about his suspected biological mom’s music career, or something.”

“Of course, of course. Luna, you do know I would never do anything to put you in harm’s way? Never.”

She blinked. “Hmm. Maybe I do know it. A bit.”

I smiled. “Come on. Let’s go and celebrate. Then later, you can collect DNA from Apollo and Priscilla.”

“A DNA test?”

“A DNA test.” I grinned and held out my hand for her to take.

Like two thieves running off into the night, she took my hand and we ran for the door, out into the city.

Somehow,I managed to convince Luna to take me back to her terrible regular bar, the dingy basement rock bar where the unconvincing modern-day punks played pool and discussed terrible nu-metal.

I wasn’t exactly going to take her to one of the swanky places Inormallytook dates in order to impress them. I knew with Luna, it would do the opposite, and I didn’t want to ruin things when they were going so well.

Besides, and this is top secret information: I too was bored of those swanky places. The past few years, I’d found myself longing for the kinds of places we’d frequented as teenagers, and then on the first tour, before the band had gotten too famous to go to places like this.

First, Luna had insisted on dressing me in appropriate clothing. I assured her there was no need: I still knew how to dress like a normal person, even if I never got the chance in my day-to-day life of being dressed like a wealthy CEO.

I went into my walk-in closet, picked the most ludicrous fancy dress outfit I could, and walked confidently out in it as if I thought this was what the average person wore to a dive bar. Luna burst into laughter seeing me in what was essentially a cowboy outfit. I cackled and quickly darted back into the closet to change into somethingactuallyappropriate. Essentially, the only clothes I had that would suit Luna’s bar were my old tour clothes – black leather, ripped jeans, faded tees.

I checked myself in the mirror. It wasn’t quite right – my hair was still coiffed like a businessman. I couldn’t go full grunge with it. I’d look ridiculous doing so, approaching middle age. But I managed to artfully arrange my hair into something that an aging rocker who was now a dad or a schoolteacher might wear, as a compromise.

Luna’s eyes sparkled to see me in the clothes, although she played it off by making some comment about how I was stuck in the past. Either way, she continued to hold my hand as we made our way to the bar, and she kept holding it as we walked in through those swing doors, seemingly unashamed to be seen with me. That was something. That was something, for sure.

Luna insisted on ordering drinks, so I took a seat in one of the booths to the side of the bar, which were slightly more private than most of the tables. It was still early, and so the bar wasn’t as populated with rockers young and old as it had been when I’d first visited Luna here. I admit, I’d been slightly disappointed not to get recognized by aNeedleheadfan that time I’d visited – I may be older and a lot richer, but there was still a following for our music out there.

Luna returned from the bar holding two drinks, and slid one to me before settling into the booth next to me. I took the opportunity to wrap one arm around her, and she didn’t resist, or even make a sarcastic comment about it.

We sipped at our drinks. I looked around the establishment. “I can see why you like this place.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Well, it’s a no-frills, authentic feeling dive bar. You can barely tell it’s here from the signage outside, so it’s got that mysterious feel to it, like it’s letting you in on a secret. And obviously, it attracts a music crowd, what with the memorabilia, the jukebox selection and the attire of the bar staff. In short, this bar is like... the bar version of you. Authentic. Mysterious. And passionate about music.”

“Hmm.” Beside me, Luna seemed a little speechless.

“Speaking of the jukebox... would it be really cheesy if I went to queue up someNeedleheadsongs? I’m obviously feeling quite nostalgic.”

Luna blinked. “Go for it.”

I slotted some spare change into the machine and queued up a whole album of my songs, then scurried back to our booth like I’d committed a crime. A crime of arrogance, perhaps.

When I returned, Luna was looking at me very curiously. Her eyes were a mixture of soft and intense. She took my hand and pulled me in close, and planted a gentle, curious kiss on my lips. Warmth flooded me, but I was also perplexed. “Are you... alright?”

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