Chapter 21

Griffin

“Great crowd.” Pete thumped my shoulder as we stood behind the stage listening to the reverberations of applause for the previous performance. The thunder-rolls of clapping and stomping and the screaming voices stirred my blood, echoes of some of the very best moments of my life.

“Yeah. I heard they broke attendance records.” Zoe grinned, wide eyes showing her excitement. “An outdoor fest like this never gets fucking old.”

The band ahead of me began breaking down their setup, and Pete’s head roadie gestured to his minions to get ready with our gear.

“Thanks, all of you,” I said, scanning the band members standing around me. “I can’t wait to get up there with you.”

“Like old times,” Pete said. “I still remember that first show we opened for you. I was about ready to shit my pants with how big the audience was. You came out and introduced us, and stepped back to sing backing vocals on the first song. And holy shit, they screamed. Like, we could literally do no wrong after that. We got two encores.”

“You were just that good,” I told him. “I really didn’t need to be there, even for one song.” I’d offered, seeing how nervous they’d been, but they hadn’t actually needed me. “I just wanted to ride your rocket into stardom.”

“Bullshit. You were the guy they were all there to see. We were totally unknown.”

“Not after that night.”

“No.” We exchanged looks of satisfaction.

“That was my favorite tour ever,” I told him as the roadies began filing past us, setting up the gear on the darkened stage.

“Good times.” Pete nudged me. “We’ve missed you. Don’t be such a stranger, huh? I’m glad we get to do this.”

I hadn’t been fit company for anyone recently. Might not be in the future if— I cut that thought off. No ifs tonight. No doubts, no regrets. I was going to sing my fucking head off and whatever came tomorrow, I wasn’t going to doubt this moment. Sure, I wished Lee was in the audience. Could’ve used a hug for luck. I hoped he was doing something fun, not imagining me stepping on stage and catastrophizing everything that could go wrong. On impulse, I pulled out my phone and messaged him. ~Thinking of you tonight.

My phone went dark with no reply. I turned it off and stuffed it away. No more time. The mic was waiting.

We climbed the stairs and found our marks. Pete Lebraun and Chaser Lost were playing backup for me tonight, and if anything was a sign I’d done something right with my life, that was it. And Lee’s not talking to you. So you obviously did something wrong, too.

I shook off the thought. No time for that now. I had five songs to give the Rocktoberfest crowd. I’d decided to start with an easy, rocky version of “Bite Me” and get them headbanging. Then slow down to “Wings of Ice” and “Don’t Look Back.” I hadn’t planned to do harder songs, but Lee asked for “Wipeout” and he’d get anything he asked from me. Except giving up this moment onstage, I guess.

The crowd rustled and rumbled as takeoff approached. I plucked my A-string, a nervous habit, the clear note settling me in my performing skin. Then the stage lights hit me, the gerbs Pete insisted on giving me flashed sparks, and the loudspeaker demanded, “It’s time. Put your hands together for Griffin Marsh!”

The audience screamed. Most of it for Pete and his band, of course, waiting behind me in the dark. But I basked in hearing some voices shouting my name.

I leaned into the mic. “Thank you, Rocktoberfest! Look at all you folks here tonight. Great crowd! You know, about ten years ago, I was in a small bar and I heard this band playing. Total unknowns. Pure raw talent. I went and found them after the set, and asked if they had any interest in opening for my next tour. And when they did, holy shit. I think by the end of the tour, they had more fans than I did. In half an hour or so, they’re going to play their songs for you. But tonight, I’m getting the perks of being the first person to recognize the genius that is Pete Lebraun and Chaser Lost!”

The roar of the crowd forced me to pause, but I grinned ear to ear, waiting them out. “What perk, you might ask?” I waved behind me. “Having the best band on the planet backing me up at the best show on the planet. Check it out!”

The spotlights came on, silhouetting the band in white halos, as Pete strummed a chord, and Quinn struck a bright note from his cymbal. The fans screamed.

I launched into the opening chords of “Bite Me” and the band swung in behind me. The heady joy of playing with the best musicians I knew hit me like a tornado, whirling me up into the heights. I forgot about going easy and charged into the first verse. Pete and I harmonized on the chorus like we’d planned, and I shredded the fuck out of the guitar solo. By the time Quinn crashed through the percussive ending, I could’ve leaped tall buildings.

Sets were short at these big shows, other than the headliners, and I didn’t want to waste a minute. We dove right into “Wings of Ice” and then “Don’t Look Back.” The more folky vibes were off-brand for Chaser Lost, but damn, these people could play to the mood. After I wound the last notes of “Don’t Look Back” into silence, I spoke into the mic again.

“This next song goes out to a special person named Yolanda.” I didn’t know who she was, but she got Lee to stop giving me radio silence. That made her special as hell. When we belted out the opening to “Wipeout” I hoped she was enjoying it. I hoped that Lee would know I did as he asked, just because he was the one asking.

“Wipeout” was appropriate here, if a bit harder rock than I’d planned. A song about getting back up when you were smashed flat. We’d done a crash rehearsal for it because no, it hadn’t been on the set list originally. But Pete and the gang had played it with me all those years ago, messing around in rehearsals and down days on tour. As I opened my mouth to belt the lyrics, Chaser Lost killed it behind me.

I gave the song everything I had, met Pete’s guitar with my own, threw myself into the lyrics. At the last moment, I skipped the triumphant scream at the end. That’s for you, Lee. Instead, I added a wild guitar riff and let the top note scream for me.

When we were done, the lights on Pete and the others dimmed and went dark. A roadie hauled out a tall stool for me and I perched a hip, tugged my beret down on my sweaty forehead. Another young woman took my electric guitar and gave me my old electro-acoustic. The applause faded to a murmur.

“One more song, Rocktoberfest,” I told the tens of thousands of folks arrayed across the festival grounds on the other side of the footlights. “This is a new song. No one’s heard it yet. You see, I’ve done a lot in my life, some of it awesome, like discovering Chaser Lost.” I paused for the screams but they died out fast, catching my mood.

“Some of it’s been the opposite of awesome. Half a year ago, I made a careless mistake, one second of irresponsibility, of complete thoughtlessness, and someone died. If you don’t know the story, you can look it up. I can never make amends, but I’m trying. Part of that is telling all of you, keep your eyes on the road when you drive. The life you save might be the mother of two little girls.”

I took a breath. “Sometimes bad things happen, and good comes out of it. I’ve been trying to make that true. Life throws curveballs, though.” My throat tightened. I could feel a painful ache there. Was any of it that damned polyp? Didn’t matter now. I had one thing left to do. “I wrote this song for someone who deserves all the joy in the world, and a hell of a lot more than I can bring him. I hope one day he may hear it.”

The intro to “Goodbye” was a minor key, shifting to major, then back to minor in the last verse. I picked the notes out fast and clean, getting my breath under control. Then I sang.

“I’ve always been one for long hellos

“Not so much for long goodbyes

“Our first kiss should last till the stars burn out

“Comet trails across the skies

“Walk with me awhile in the light of day

“Hold me close against the night

“But I’ll slip like a ghost from your loving arms

“And be gone by morning light.

“There’s a part of me

“That still wants to see

“If for once I stayed

“What my life would be

“There’s a place inside

“Wants to open wide

“Make a home for love

“Like I never tried

“I could face my fears

“Stay with you for years

“Share the hope you give

“Take the risk of tears.

“But a trust once lost

“Touched your heart with frost

“And my courage fades

“I can’t face the cost.

I’d been smart to put a musical bridge here, letting my fingers sing hope down to pain on the strings. Words choked me, but it gave me time to find my voice again.

“I froze at my door as you turned away

“Didn’t say the words you asked

“Now the darkness falls. Here I stand alone

“And our final chance has passed.”

I let the last minor chord trail into silence. So much more I could say, but my throat was closing tight again, and not just from the soreness. “Goodnight, Black Rock,” I murmured, and the mic carried my voice to that enormous crowd as they broke into a thunderous roar. “Now let’s hear it for Chaser Lost, the best band and best friends anywhere. Live long, rock on.”

Then I set my old guitar down there on the boards by my empty stool, turned my back, and left the stage with the audience screaming behind me.

As the stage lights went out, darkness of more than one kind rolled over me. I glanced back at the seething crowd of fans. Right at the barrier in the front, I saw an older woman with silver hair still screaming and shaking devil horns in the air and beside her, a tall, heavyset man with curly red hair and a beard… Couldn’t be. I froze, squinting, my eyes a mess of afterimages from the lights. The man turned sideways, speaking to the woman, his mouth by her ear, and someone else screened him but I would know Lee anywhere.

Fuck! He’s here! I wanted to leap off the stage and run over there, but the roadies were busy all around me, getting Chaser Lost’s far more extensive pyrotechnics set up. Plus, if I ran out into that crowd now, after a show, I’d never get away from the fans to find Lee.

I grabbed the nearest roadie’s T-shirt, making her squeak. “Sorry! Emergency!” I pointed beyond the lights. Lee was now out of sight in the crowd but the silver-haired woman still stood by the barrier. “You see that woman with the bright silver hair? She’s with a guy— tall, red hair and beard, younger than me. His name is Lee, she might be Yolanda. Whoever she is, it’s the guy I want. Ask them to come backstage here. Beg if you have to. Get them through the barrier, offer them a backstage pass. Can you do that?”

“I’m supposed to—”

“Please? Life and death. Seriously.”

“I can try.” She hurried down the steps and around the end of the stage.

As I watched her, I yanked out my phone and powered it on. Come on, come on. The instant I had bars, I texted Lee. ~Is that you? Are you here? Stay put! If I was wrong, I’d look nuts and desperate but I didn’t fucking care. ~I’m sending someone to get you. A young woman, blond. I had no idea who she was. On tour, I got to know all the roadies, but I hadn’t memorized names this time. ~Please, come talk to me.

I got no answer. Then again, the chance he’d hear his phone in the still-loud crowd wasn’t great. I stumbled down the back steps. Quinn caught my arm. “Hey, doing okay?”

“I’m fine. Break a leg with your set.”

“Just don’t break a leg for real.” He let go of me and turned away.

I couldn’t see the audience now. I ran around the stage in the direction the blond roadie had gone. For a minute, as I scanned the waving fans along the barrier in the harsh light and deep shadows of the light poles, I didn’t see anyone— not Lee, not the older lady, not even the roadie. My heart sank. Would Lee really come to hear me sing and leave with no contact at all? I’d never find him in the crowds or spot where he was staying in the huge field of tents and vans and RVs that stretched out around the venue.

Then there was a disturbance in the crowd. I saw the roadie push through and approach one of the security guys manning the barrier. She showed him her badge and they spoke together. The roadie pointed toward our stage where the musicians of Chaser Lost were taking their places. I waved wildly, not sure if they could see or recognize me but hoping my face was worth something. They headed off toward a gate down the fence. Lee and the older woman appeared from deeper in the crowd, following the roadie with difficulty along the barrier, dodging around people. I held my breath. Lee didn’t turn my way. In the uncertain light, I couldn’t make out his expression. Was he happy? Pissed off?

At the gate, the guard unhooked the barrier enough to let the roadie, Lee, and the silver-haired lady through. Then he closed it back up and planted himself there, arms crossed, eyeing the fans. A few crowd members seemed to be waving or shouting toward the blond roadie, but she didn’t look back, just led the man I desperately needed to see across the desert sands toward me.

I stayed put, frozen, beside Rocktoberfest’s main stage, as Lee approached. When he got close, I took one step forward.

The older woman smacked Lee’s arm. “Seriously, you fucker? You let me blather on about how incredible Griffin Marsh is for the last four days and never told me you know him?”

“It’s complicated,” Lee muttered.

“Are you Yolanda?” I asked her, holding out a hand.

She took my fingers in a firm grip. “Yes. Was that… you really dedicated ‘Wipeout’ to me?”

“Lee asked me to,” I said, then turned to him. “Lee—”

The roar of the crowd as the announcer introduced Chaser Lost drowned out whatever I might’ve said. Having played backup for my set, they hadn’t needed long to prepare for their own. I was going to ask Lee if we could go somewhere quiet, but Yolanda’s intent gaze was fixed on the stage.

I stepped close, and put my mouth by her ear to be heard, noting she was smart and had plugs in. “Hey, you want to hang out with us, hear the show from backstage? The acoustics won’t be as good.”

“Are you kidding? Lead me to it.” She grinned at Lee and shouted, “Best Rocktoberfest yet!”

Lee nodded, apparently unable to resist her enthusiasm.

I led them around the back and up into the wings where we could stand and watch the band play. I’d unhooked my in-ears as I left the stage, so I fumbled in a pocket and got out back-up ear plugs. While we were behind the biggest speakers, Chaser Lost was about to get loud .

Pete stepped up to the mic, greeted the crowd, and said some kind things about me that would’ve had me blushing at any other time. Now, I just hoped Lee was listening, hearing that there were good people who thought my music was worth something. Then the band launched into their first song and the crowd exploded, screaming and singing along.

All I cared about was Lee, though. I stepped back and watched as Yolanda got into the music beside him, encouraging him to headbang on “Flip the Script” and dancing with him on “Flexible.” Lee didn’t quite dance, but he did shake and shimmy a bit, with one fleeting glance my way.

I wasn’t sure whether to applaud or pretend I wasn’t drinking in the sight of him. In the end, I just stood there like a dork. He didn’t look at me again.

Slowly, the music pulled me in. As a headliner band, Chaser Lost played close to a full set. From their moodiest ballad to the hardest rock, they laid down a perfect show. The crowd out there was fucking lucky to be here. By the time Pete closed out the set, his shirt wringing wet and his dark curls plastered to his forehead, we’d been schooled in what rock music should be. I pounded my hands together as loud as anyone.

But when the lights dropped and the band began filing off the stage, I hustled to grab Pete as he reached us. “Dude, that was incredible, and I need one more favor.”

“What do you need?”

“Can I…” I’d been about to ask for a little private time in the bus, but that was too much. After a show like that, they needed their space. “Could you take care of Yolanda here, so I can haul Lee off for a private talk?”

“Oh, my God, you don’t need to cater to me,” Yolanda said. “This has been incredible. I’m walking on air. I can just go on out there and meet up with Lee later. Although… a photo?”

“Sure,” Pete said.

“Two photos?” she suggested. “I want one with Griffin.”

I made a face at him. “See? You play like that and some people still like me better.” Even if it wasn’t the person I was hoping for.

Yolanda laughed and told me, “They’re gaining on you, though.”

“Only fair.” We got off the stage, out of the way of the roadies, and stood near a light pole so Yolanda could take a few photos with Pete and then me with my arm around her shoulders.

“Are you sure you want me to touch you?” I asked. “I probably sweated like a pig.”

She waggled her fingers at me. “Honest sweat from Griffin Marsh. I may never wash this shirt. Get over here.”

After we’d taken a couple, she called to Lee, “Hey, miracle worker. Come and join us.”

He didn’t budge. “You don’t want me in your rockstar pictures.”

“The hell I don’t. This would’ve been a much less fun Rocktoberfest without you. Get over here.”

Lee shuffled over to stand next to her on the opposite side from me. I chose not to read too much into that. Yolanda snapped away. I tried to keep smiling, even though every fiber of my body wanted to grab Lee and go somewhere. To talk. Maybe not only to talk. A guy could hope.

Pete said, “Yolanda, you want to meet the band now?”

Bless you, Pete. I lifted my arm from Yolanda’s shoulders. “Have fun. Lee, want to go for a walk?”

He hesitated, then said, “Yeah, I guess we should.”

Yolanda nudged Lee. “Text me when you want to meet at the shuttle stop.”

“Will do.” He hugged her. “Thanks for hanging out with me today.”

“You say that like it wasn’t for my benefit too.” She waved her cell phone. “My friends are going to be so jealous they’ll turn purple. So great to meet you, Griffin.”

“You too. Lee?” I gestured off toward the dim grounds of the private fenced-off area for the performers. Lee followed my lead, walking at my side but with a couple of feet of space between us.

I pointed as I walked. “Band buses and other transport. Pete’s bus has to be seen to be believed. More comfortable than my whole apartment.”

“I’ve seen school buses more comfortable than your whole apartment,” Lee quipped, then averted his gaze.

“Are you maligning my humble abode?”

“I’d feel worse about that if you’d done anything to make it homey.”

“Maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll find somewhere better. It was supposed to be temporary, just to get me through the trial.”

“Because you weren’t staying.” That wasn’t a question.

“I wasn’t. I am now. If I have a reason.”

When Lee didn’t answer, I looked over to see him rubbing his thumb across his lips.

“You don’t need to say anything. Not yet.” I scanned the venue, getting my bearings. “That way. There’s some picnic tables and open ground before we hit the fence. Good place for star-gazing and maybe for a private conversation.”

“Lead on.”

We walked between the rows of buses. Echoes of music and snatches of songs came to our ears. People were partying, celebrating successful performances with only the last two headliners to go before Rocktoberfest was a wrap. The rows showed a fair number of gaps, marking groups who’d done their bit and headed out to the next venue, the next concert, the recording studio for their next album. A musician’s life was like that.

Maybe it was time to change mine for this man walking beside me.

When we reached the picnic table area, there were a few folks having late snacks and chatting. By mutual silent consent, we walked on. When we came to a maintenance shack, we slipped around to the far side. In the shadows, I couldn’t see much of Lee, just the glint of his eyes and an occasional hint of fair skin. Maybe that was best. Watching Lee was distracting and I needed to listen.

I waited for him to open the conversation, but when he didn’t, I asked, “How are you even here?”

“Plane, bus.” His tone was dry. “The usual.” That wasn’t what I meant and he knew it. After a moment, he said, “I planned it as this super romantic gesture. And then, I just… never cancelled.” He sighed. “No, that’s not true. I kept having bad dreams of something happening to you, and I couldn’t stand to not be here, even if I was just in the crowd watching. At least I’d know. That’s the real truth.”

I wanted to hug him but he’d stopped too far away, and I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate me getting closer. “You know I’m not dying, right? I have this polyp that has a tiny chance of being worse, but there was zero chance I’d keel over tonight.”

“I know that. In my head. When I’m awake.” He ran a hand over his face.

Maybe you should talk to someone. I wasn’t sure that was a helpful thing to say right now.

A moment later, he said it for me. “I might need a little therapy. I thought I’d been handling losing Alice. Not over it, because it’s never over, but when Mom crashed and my father couldn’t care less, I was the one who kept it together, did everything that had to be done. I thought I had my shit together, then and ever since. But now I’m dreaming about her again. Her and you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lee shook his head. “That’s not on you. I’m still furious that you put this concert ahead of your health but I’d forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?”

“How big your music is. How much it matters to people.”

“Eh. Once upon a time maybe. I’m a legacy act now.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” He took a step toward me into the moonlight, his messy hair lit silver in the dim of the evening, his eyes shadowed. “Yolanda told me ‘Wipeout’ saved her sanity at a hard time in her life. I heard someone I don’t even know in the crowd talking about how they’d come three thousand miles to see you, because your music was so important to them.”

“That’s cool.” More than cool. Hearing Lee say my work made a difference was like a warm hug I hadn’t realized how much I needed. “Thanks.”

“I watched you play acoustic guitar in a nursing home and then play checkers. I think that made me see your music as a hobby and this trip as a luxury.”

“I’m not saving lives, like you do every day.”

“Lots of days, what I do is change adult diapers and yell at suppliers who brought the wrong cotton swabs.” Lee made a sharp gesture. “Not downplaying my job either, but I get why this was important to you.” He gave a choked laugh. “Hell, I requested a song.”

“For someone else.”

“Yeah. It blew her away.” After a pause, he asked, “Were you even planning to play ‘Wipeout’? I didn’t realize how few songs you had.”

We were being honest here, so I said, “No. Wasn’t on my list. But Lee, I’d do anything I can for you. Well, almost. Not stop singing.” I realized I had a hand to my irritated throat and dropped it. “Not unless I have to. But this? ‘Wipeout’ came out the year before my tour with Chaser Lost. I played it a lot back then and they jammed with me more than once. I could swap it onto the set list and I did. I liked being able to say yes to you.”

“Yolanda about lost her shit.” His teeth flashed in a wide grin. “She kept saying, ‘Was that for me? Can’t be, right? Did you do something?’ I got a huge kick out of that.”

“I’m glad. Who is she? I’m so glad you had a friend with you.” I wanted to be that friend, but if he wouldn’t let me, I was beyond relieved he hadn’t been alone, wandering Rocktoberfest for four days. I knew how horribly isolated a guy could feel in the middle of a huge crowd.

“I met her day one. We shared a cab from the bus station to the motel and hit it off.”

“Seriously?”

“I know. Lucky, right? Well, the motel’s a dump. But spending time with her? She’s been through a lot of shit, but she reminded me to find joy. And for her, the biggest joy was your music. That mattered.” He moved closer, reached out and laid a hand on my chest. “You have such a gift. That last song? That broke my heart.”

It was meant to. Was that crass, exploitative, that I took our pain and sold it? Or was that just art, my way of giving my feelings a voice? My throat was too tight to ask. The warmth of his palm spread through me, a contrast to the evening cool on my damp shirt. I shivered.

Lee looked down at where his hand rested on me. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Oh my God. Thank fuck. “Me neither. You.”

“Not to a breakup. Not to death. But I figured out there’s only one of those I can control. Death is out of my hands.”

I had a flash— screech of brakes, rending crash of metal — and laid my hand over his. “I sure got that message this year.”

“Alice once said to me, ‘BB, I can’t be so busy trying not to die that I forget to live.’ That was when I was pushing her to try a treatment that would’ve taken a whole lot of her time and maybe bought some months. She called me BB when I was being too big-brotherish.”

I wanted to hug him for the bleak tone in his voice, but all I dared do was press harder on the back of his hand. “I’m sure you were the best big brother.”

“I tried.” He moved up against me then, and I was able to hold him at last. Closing my arms around him was like finally taking a deep breath after almost drowning. I missed you so much. Let me help. Lee was a big strong guy, but he felt fragile in my arms. He leaned his head on mine. His beard tickled my skin and I loved having him there.

“You always do your best. Above and beyond,” I murmured. “You care, so damned much. That was one of the things I loved about you right from the start. That huge heart you have.”

“I get scared,” he admitted. “Scared and then mad, and I run around like a fool trying to control everything and make the bad shit not happen. Dad left, you left, I lost Alice, so many damned people with COVID and cancer and kidney failure and all the things I lose residents to. I worked like hell to get my NP so I had more control of Alice’s care, but I still couldn’t save her.”

I hugged him tighter.

“I’m tired.” He leaned on me, and I was glad I could support him.

I twisted to kiss his cheek. “Let me help. I know me not following doctor’s orders was one more stress for you, but I love you. I want to be there for you, fate willing.”

He mumbled with his lips brushing my hair below my beret, “I love you too. Kicking you to the curb won’t save me from pain if anything happens to you.”

“And just think of everything we’d be losing if it doesn’t.”

“Yeah. That’s what Yolanda said. Not directly because I didn’t tell her, but just, like, life’s too short. Not to let fear keep me from going for what I want, what I need.”

“I want you, in every way I can have you,” I told him. “I won’t give up music, even if I can’t sing after the surgery and have to go instrumental.” I fought down a moment of panic. It’ll be fine. Whatever happens, if I have Lee, it’ll be okay. “Music’s in my blood. But I will try to find a way to fit it around a life with you, if you want that too.”

“So much.” He hugged me back, then pushed me away enough to find my mouth with his. Our kiss was fumbling at first in the uncertain light. Then he tilted his head, and we fit perfectly.

Yes. Fuck, yes, all I need.

I’d known through all the years, even when I was at the top of my game, that something was missing in the song of my life, some note, some lyric, some chord vital to reach life’s true promise. Lee loving me, kissing me, trusting me, was that missing chord. So right.

My head still spun with the echoes of my performance and the surreal lows and highs. The feel and taste and scent of Lee made me dizzy with need. I kissed him like I could eat him, like he was food and air. He kissed me back just as desperately. I felt him getting hard against my hip and ground into him, groaning, opening my mouth for his demanding tongue—

“Okay, folks, break it up.” A bright light shone in my eyes for a moment, then lowered.

I let go of Lee, squinting through the afterimage at the person with the flashlight. Venue security, most likely.

Confirmed when he asked, “You folks got your passes?”

I showed him my performer lanyard and assured him Lee was my guest, a phrase that made Lee snort.

“He should be wearing his pass,” the guard scolded, like they didn’t run into performers and groupies all the time, probably.

“Yes, sir. We’ll remember that.” I slung an arm over Lee’s shoulders.

“Right.” The guard turned away, then hesitated. “Great performance tonight, Mr. Marsh. I’m a huge fan.”

“That’s cool. Hey, want me to sign something?”

“We’re not supposed to ask.” But he hesitated.

“You didn’t ask, I did.”

He patted himself down, looking frustrated.

Lee pulled a folded ball cap out of his pocket. I recognized one of my swag I’d arranged for a retailer to sell here for a commission, back when my brain could actually care about those things. “How about this? Yolanda made me get one.”

“Perfect.” I could get him a hundred more if he wanted. I took the cap from him, fumbled a baby Sharpie out of my pocket, and signed my name below the Griffin logo. “What name should I put on it?”

“Rick would be great.”

I angled the brim toward his flashlight and wrote, “For Rick, a shining light in venue security.”

The guard read the inscription and laughed. “That’s awesome. Thanks, Mr. Marsh. You guys take care, now.”

As he strode away, I grabbed Lee and collapsed with laughter against his shoulder, my eyes squeezed shut. “Oh my God, I am too old to be busted by venue security. Although I guess it’s karma.”

“How so?”

“I cockblocked Axel from Grindstone when he was making out with some hot older dude a few days ago.”

Lee chuckled. “Poor guys. Speaking of cockblocking, you think we could find somewhere to go where no one will shine bright lights in our eyes?”

“Your motel room? I love the Chaser peeps but that bus is not private.” I wasn’t ready to share Lee with everyone yet, and my dick was not in a mood to spend time socializing. I had to stop myself from going back to grinding on him now, security be damned.

“I guess.” Lee wrinkled his nose. “My room is seriously dodgy, but the door does shut and the bed’s a king.”

“Lead the way.” Sore throat, declining career, bad mistakes, parole— nothing could keep me from feeling high as a kite when I had the right to haul Lee in close and kiss him again on our way to his bed.