by Jackson Kane
I draped my suit jacket across my arm—it had become too warm to put it back on—, grabbed a bottle of top shelf whiskey, then walked out from behind the bar. I reached for Gloria's hand to kiss it good night, but she clamped it tightly and shook it instead.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Grant,” I said, amused. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Judy's laugh split the air in the near distance and was followed by a round of rejoicing from those around her. Gloria's expression darkened. The thought of joining them or finding new conversations must have been really grating to her.
I felt surprisingly good as I walked away. Talking with Gloria for that brief time had been more satisfying than all the other girls combined. She had been a cool breeze in a room full of stuffy, stagnant conversations I'd already had a thousand times.
“Mr. King!” A deep voiced journalist ambushed me. “I'm with the Caldwell Hope Journal. Can I have a moment of your time please?”
“I'm sorry; I'm on my way out.” Then a devious idea hit me. I grabbed the man's shoulder and drew his attention toward Lucas. “But you see that guy over there with the long hair? The one person in this entire party who looks like just he stepped out of a music video?
“That's my rock star brother Lucky Luke. He just told me that he wouldn’t be getting back together with his band this time. They were officially done.”
The man’s dark face lit up at the thought of being the one to break the news. He thanked me profusely, then rushed off. A small crowd of other reporters could smell the fresh blood of a breaking story and followed the man. Within seconds Lucas was surrounded.
I paused long enough to smile at his mounting frustration with all the questions, then turned to leave again.
“Wait,” Gloria said, catching up to me as I made for a side exit. “Is that ride out of here still on the table?”
Chapter 8
Lucas
“Is it true that Gunmetal Tears is finally finished?”
“Did they kick you out after that stunt in Berlin? Are you going into rehab—.”
“Care to comment on—”
The questions came like machine gun fire at an execution by firing squad. And I was up against the figurative wall, without so much as a final cigarette.
I glared at Richard, but he was walking through the front door; a smile on his lips and the black-haired flavor of the night on his arm.
Shots fired, I thought, standing there as half a dozen reporters swarmed around Molly and I like vultures. I thought about the present I left in his car before coming in.
Enjoy the next few hours, Dick. After that, you’re going to have a real bad night.
Their questions buzzed like bees, overlapping and interrupting each other as the reporters followed our escape from the grand room. They weren't particularly loud like in LA or New York, they were just relentless.
Molly covered her face, looking embarrassed. She wanted no part of this and definitely didn't want her picture taken. That flushed me with anger.
I had to get her out of here.
“Hey! No pictures.” I loudly interrupted the stream of bullshit. “I'm not answering any of your stupid questions. Back the fuck off!”
I shoved my way through a small group of people as I led Molly to what looked like the server’s egress that led to the kitchen.
“Hey! Jerk!” A tall, bubbly blonde in a white dress and gold jewelry shouted as I shouldered her out of the way. They picked the wrong set of swinging doors to hang out in front of.
At the last possible second a fat photographer stepped in front of us and snapped a shot off. The white camera flash was blinding.
Instinct took over, and I latched onto the front of the camera. I'd have ripped it away from the photographer, but the lanyard was wrapped around the back of his neck.
“I said no pictures.” I balled up my other fist, and was about to take his head off when I felt Molly's hand tug at my cocked elbow.
“Don't be an idiot,” Molly said. “Let’s just go.”
I turned and saw the whole room looking at me. Shit. I played right into Richard's hands. He knew this would happen. When I got riled up I tended to act first and think later.
And nothing riled me up more than someone making Molly uncomfortable.
Well played, Dick. Once news of this got out everyone in town would know I was back. That always made things more difficult.
The reporters followed us all the way to the staff kitchen before relenting. They'd have kept following us too, had the head chef not recognized what was going on and roared for them to leave. Fortunately the chef happened to be a fan and told us how to escape through the back by the dumpsters.
You'd think being a rock star would insulate you against the nasty back end of things, but that was never the case. I bet I passed more dumpsters in my career than any fan ever had. The public got the fancy front entrances with their gilded lights and flashy buy-me concessions and swag.
The artists got the back alleys and ugly hallways.
I didn't mind though. That's where I felt the most at home.
I glanced back at Molly when we made it outside behind the country club. Her bookish timidity had evaporated somewhere between me breaking into Richard's car and us sneaking into the party under different names.
I thought she'd be pissed, but there was a crease in the corner of her lips that someone might confuse with the ghost of a smile.
“It's amazing how little you've changed over the years,” She said. “You're still an impulsive hot head.”
Was she actually enjoying this?
It didn't matter that the gated-off staff area smelled like ripe trash, or that I'd just made an ass out of myself in a room full of people. I couldn't remember a time recently where I was happier. Just being with her like this after so long gave the evening a magical quality.
What were the odds that I’d see her outside that bar at that exact time?
I never believed in fate or the shitty nickname I was given. Lucky Luke. I had no idea how all of this was going to shake out, but I was going to savor whatever time I could steal with Molly.
Even if she did still hate me.
“You've changed though.” I shot her a quick glance, admiring the way her layered hair framed her perfect face. “When we were younger it was a hell of a lot tougher to convince you to break into this place with me.”
“I think I was afraid of disappointing your mom if we ever got caught.” There was a gleam in her eyes as she shut the door and idly surveyed the endless green plain. The fog had started to conceal the distant treeline.
It was easy to forget the many good old times that were buried beneath the mountain of bad times.
“Yeah, right. Mom would've let you get away with murder as long as you kept playing the piano. Do you still—”
“No.” Molly said, curtly, obviously wanting to change the subject. She brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek and turned away.
I wanted to ask her why she stopped playing, but I held my tongue and pulled out a pack of smokes instead. I'd never seen anyone work the keys with half the finesse she had.
What happened to us?
It was a stupid question. I knew exactly what happened, and knowing didn't make it any better.
“Why'd you bring me here?” She asked, leaning against the building's stone exterior. She let her gaze slip up toward the heavens. Between the clubhouse, parking lot and the various permanently lit driving greens, there was still too much light pollution to really take in the stars.
“Motorcycle vests don't generally meet the dress code here.” I placed the cigarette in my mouth and flicked out a small flame from my Zippo. The yellow light highlighted the disapproval on Molly's face.
Smoking was so second nature that I hadn't even considered it might bother her.
“I knew you'd be safe here, at least for the night.” I closed the metal lid on the lighter and killed the flame. Tucking the unlit cigarette away in my
back pocket, I looked her over.
I didn't like the idea of her hanging around with men that hit women, but she declined when I wanted to get the cops involved.
Whatever was going on with her was a big deal and it killed me not to know.
“What happened back there? Who the fuck was that guy?” I tried to keep the anger out of my face, but I was still furious at that biker.
It was so hard not to get jealous too. When I heard that Molly had gotten married, I lost a week of my life to drugs, women and bad decisions. I never fully recovered from the news.
“That's none of your business,” Molly said, her lips were a tight slash across her face. Annoyed, she blew air out of her nose in a short burst, then looked away again. Right before she snapped her head to the side I saw a glossy sheen in her eyes. “If you gave a damn you'd never have abandoned me in the first place.”
My heart lurched at the thought of being the one to bring tears to her eyes. I loved Molly more than life itself, but I never seemed to stop hurting her.
Fuck!
I stopped myself from punching the wall and busting my knuckles. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go down! “Best laid plans were for idiots and assholes,” Ricky, our drummer, was prone to saying when things didn't work out the way we wanted.
He was right.
I was both an idiot for thinking I could repair a decade worth of damage in one night and an asshole for jumping right in and trying. I was being selfish. I wanted my Molly back, the girl that loved me.
But that girl was gone.
“Listen,” I said, ducking around in front of her and placing my head against the cool stone wall. “You're stuck here for a few hours until...whoever that was gives up looking for you.
“For the rest of the night can we just be two different people?”
“Luke, it doesn't work that.” Molly bowed her head and lifted her glasses so she could wipe the tears from her eyes.
“I don't want to be Luke King,” I said. “That dude fucked up so much that even I have trouble spending time with him.”
“Just for tonight.” I dropped to one knee so I could I look up into her dark amber eyes. The gesture spurred an exasperated look to wash across her face. I pressed my hands together like I was praying to a god. In some ways I was. “Just for tonight, let me be... Elmo.”
“Elmo?” Molly snorted and shook her head, her face lightening. I was hoping for a smiling flash of her perfect teeth, but none came. “Like that lame plushy you won for me in that stupid claw machine?”
“There was nothing stupid about that claw machine. It was very good at separating idiots from their money.” I spent over a hundred bucks over the course of a week trying to win that red, plastic-eyed jerk for Molly, all because she said it was cute as we walked by. She always had a thing for nostalgia. “What do you say?”
Molly sighed, walking away. The white dress and jeans made her look like an angel that was slumming it for the weekend. She propped her hands on her hips and thought on it for several agonizing minutes.
“Fine.” She turned back to me. The auxiliary lighting was dim enough for her freckles to have retired for the night, but the lenses of her glasses still shone defiantly. “On one condition.”
“Name it,” I said without hesitation, hopping back up to my feet.
“We might be stuck here, but I don't want to be anywhere in smelling distance of a dumpster.”
The corner of my mouth spiked up, but I caught it before it got out of control and became a full on grin.
I thought on it for a second. It'd been forever since last time I was here. This golf course was massive, but most of it was empty for obvious reasons.
Where could we go?
I sure as hell wasn't going to bring us back inside with all the reporters. There were a few smaller clubhouses spread out on the property, but those would all be locked up.
“There's a lake a ways down.” A specific spot popped into my head; the way a long forgotten memory might when a song you hadn't heard in ages played on the radio.
Was it still there, I wondered?
The alarm reminder on my phone started buzzing. I turned the vibration off, but the text notification was still on the screen. It read, “Fuck with Richard? YES or NO”
I thought about how Richard fed me to the wolves inside and an evil smile spread across my face. I tapped YES and it started auto-dialing.
I was willing to play nice, at least for a little while, but so much for that.
It looked like the King brothers were officially at war.
“What's so funny?” Molly asked, noticing my shark-toothed grin.
“I'm overwhelmed by brotherly love.” I winked at her as the line picked up. “Hello, police? I'd like to report a crime.”
Chapter 9
Richard
“This is me.” Gloria collected her handbag as my Aston Martin slowed to a stop just outside Black Rocket Records. She thanked me for the ride and I wished her a good night.
I certainly didn't want the night to end, but I wasn’t leaving town any time soon—My father made sure of that— and was willing to take it slow and figure her out.
Gloria Grant intrigued me.
She was a beautiful puzzle— A Rubik's Cube with razor sharp edges and a mirror finish. I loved challenges; lived for them.
“Are you going inside or are you headed back to your car?” I asked, through the open passenger window when she closed the door.
“Why?” She gave me a distrustful look.
“It's late.” It wasn't that late, but the all the shops within eyesight were closed. “I'm going to stick around to make sure you get to wherever you're going safely.”
As Caldwell Hope evolved into the tourist hot spot it was meant to be more lights and late night shops would liven the place up after dark. It wasn't there yet, and without the perpetual bustle of people the main drag looked lonely and unwelcoming.
Gloria looked down, trying to hide her small smile.
“You're wearing the wrong suit to be a white knight,” she said, looking back up at me. “I'm headed back into the shop for a bit.” She paused, running something over in her head, then decided to continue. “You want a coffee? Y'know, as thanks for the ride”
“That depends—” I reached behind the passenger seat and pulled out the bottle of whiskey I stole from my new country club. “You mind if I bring my own sweetener?”
“Nope. If we had our liquor license whiskey would be on the menu.” Gloria said from over her shoulder as she walked to the door.
I got out and checked my key fob. I locked the car doors, unlocked them, then locked them again. The lights flashed and horn beeped obediently. Everything seemed to be working fine.
Odd, I thought.
When we left the country club my car doors were unlocked. I didn't have anything in there worth stealing so it wasn't a big deal whether they were locked or not, especially not in a town with as low a crime rate as Caldwell Hope. Still I specifically remembered locking the doors. The batteries in the fob must be dying.
Gloria unlocked the store, turned on the lights and fired up one of her elaborate drip contraptions. As we waited for the coffee to percolate she showed me around.
I hadn't noticed it the first time I came in here, but the shop had an excellent design to it. The layout of each section—records, unique and rare books, T-shirts and coffee counter—flowed perfectly into each other without feeling cramped. The aesthetic was bold, thick swaths of color that gave the place an energetic and punk rock feel.
A lot of care went into this place.
“Black Rocket Records is your baby, isn't it?”
“Every stain and bent nail.” Gloria tried to downplay it, but I could see that she took pride in her work.
“You have some good stuff in here,” I said, browsing through the racks of records. I slipped out an album by the New York Dolls. “Can I throw something on?”
“Sure.” Gloria raised an eyebrow at my selection, genuinely surprised I picked something as fast, harsh and dirty as the Dolls. She cocked her head to the side as she pulled out what could only be described as a beaker of coffee. “The iPod is behind the counter. It has all their albums on it.”
That made sense. It'd be horribly impractical to be changing records over every half hour when working. Scrolling through her vast digital selection, I forwent the albums and just put it on shuffle. I knew a little of the punk rock genre from when I played bass with Lucas as kids, but not enough to hold any kind of conversation about individual bands.
The thrashing punk song ended and something a little bluesier began.
It wasn't always bad between Lucas and I, but I tried not to think about those days. It was easier that way.
“Hey spaceman.” Gloria roused me from thoughts of my past, a wary look in her eyes. What kind of problems could a billionaire possibly have?
I might not have had to worry about my mortgage or debt, but I did have to fall in love and have a kid or else I'd lose my entire inheritance. It sounded like a cautionary tale that you'd find in one of those old Brothers Grimm-style fairy tale books.
Not the Disney ones with the happy endings.
Gloria placed the steaming mugs of coffee down by the register on the glass counter top that had all the Alice in Wonderland art. I grabbed the whiskey on my way over to her.
“You wanna do the honors?” She asked, waving a hand toward the booze.
“I don't want to mess up whatever magic you've got going on in here, but I'll be your assistant.” I unscrewed the top and slid the bottle to her, then I grabbed a stool from the long seating bar at the window and sat opposite her on the customer end of the counter. “Déjà vu.”
“Yeah, sorry about that morning...” Gloria scrunched her mouth to one side, looking mildly guilty. “I didn't mean to snap at you last time. I had just gotten into an argument with Judy and was in a pissed off mood. I'd like to think I'm not usually that rude.”
“You're just lucky the coffee was phenomenal.” I winked at her, then let myself relax enough to relate to her on an honest level. “I get it. We all have bad days.”