Page 50 of Reverb

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Stuart.” He grabbed my hand and pumped it. “I was at the show a few weeks ago. Incredible. You’re the reason I play guitar, man. Though I suck compared to you.”

Guitar nerds spoke my language, so we talked gear for a while. Stuart looked like a gym bro, but he was all right. We took a selfie. Eventually I excused myself, turning in the direction of my car.

“Is there an album coming?” he called after me.

“Yeah,” I replied. “And keep an eye on the local clubs. You never know where we’ll show up.”

Stuart didn’t even answer that. Instead, he gave a whoop sound, as if he was already in the crowd at a concert. I walked to my car, fighting a smile.

* * *

By the time I got to the car dealership, I’d heard from Sienna. Her meeting had gone well. Also, she was coming to watch us work for the first time.

The place was messy. The other guys were already here, sprawled in various places on the sofas, Shimmy behind his drum kit, empty cups of takeout coffee abandoned on the floor. I had the urge to tidy up before Sienna got here, but if I did that, it would give away that I knew she was coming. Which would give away that I’d already talked to her this morning. Which was too much to give away. So she’d have to put up with our mess.

“Greetings, losers,” I said, picking up my Les Paul and powering my amp.

“Where have you been?” Neal asked, looking up from his bass.

“None of your business, Watts,” I shot back. “But as usual, I have come up with killer shit that is going to make this album halfway good. Behold.” I did a quick tuning, then played a riff that had come into my head on the drive over.

Denver sat up straight, paying attention, but it was Neal that I watched. His eyes narrowed briefly, and I could immediately see the thoughts flying through his head.

“Again,” he said.

Fucking Watts, telling me what to do. But I played it again.

“Oh, I like it,” Axel said.

Neal squinted again. “Drop the tuning and it’ll sound heavy.”

“I don’t want heavy.”

“Yeah, you do.”

We were still arguing about tuning when Sienna came in. Axel got up. “Sienna! We didn’t know you were coming.”

She didn’t look at me. She didn’t let on that she and I had texted about it this morning, after she’d left my bed. My bed, which was still unmade, still smelling of her. “Um, surprise,” she said. “I’m just here to hang out. Do what you were doing. Pretend I’m invisible.”

I risked a look at her. Just one. She was wearing the outfit she’d put on this morning, the skirt and sweater and boots. Her laptop bag was slung over her shoulder. I made myself look away, because otherwise I could keep staring and staring.

Neal was still stuck on the tuning thing, and even with Sienna here, we drifted back into creative mode, debating where and how to use the riff I’d come up with. It didn’t belong to a song yet. We’d gotten used to having Sienna as part of the scenery on the last leg of the tour. She took a seat and opened her laptop while we worked.

We spent an hour playing with what I’d come up with, adding drums and bass, trying things, discarding them. Then we got hungry and took a break while Axel and Denver argued over where to order lunch from. I wandered to the back and used the former staff bathroom, and when I came out, Sienna was in the hall. Without paying attention to where she was going, I hooked a hand over her upper arm and steered her into the staff break room, closing the door behind us.

“Hi,” she said. There was a small smile on her lips. She didn’t seem awkward or embarrassed. I felt the tightness in my shoulders ease just a little.

“Are you all right?” I asked her.

She tilted her head. “Sure I am. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

I glanced at the ceiling, then looked back down at her. “Are we all right?”

That small smile again. “I think we’re more than all right, Stone. I think we’re pretty good.”

Was she…flirting with me? Maplethorpe? I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this. I wasn’t prepared for this. “So we’re still good after last night?”

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