Monster mash, p.37
Monster Mash, page 37
Her eyes went wide. “Me?”
I nodded. “You’re the best pick. You’ve got the respect of the pack, you’re an established member, and you’re a recognizable face. You’re calm under pressure and you show up when you’re needed, even without being called. Plus, you’ve got that take no shit attitude to back me up when I need it.”
“I also pour a mean martini,” Di said.
“What do you say, Di?” I said, flashing her my second biggest, second most handsome smile. The biggest and most handsome being reserved only for my mate, of course.
Di shrugged. “Ah, what the hell? Why not? Someone’s got to keep you in line.”
I turned back to my father with a triumphant grin, waiting for him to give my plan his verbal stamp of approval.
Dad eyed the three of us, scrutinizing and calculating as only he could. Then he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair with a grunt. “Well, it’s non-traditional, but seems like it’ll work.”
He stood, all of us standing with him. Dad extended a hand across the table to Greyson. “Welcome to the family, son.”
Grey took Dad’s hand with a big smile on his face. “It’s a pleasure, sir.”
The next few days went by quickly. Cleanup around Louisville became the pack priority. Papers and local news interviewed us and took plenty of pictures. We even made national headlines a few times. I mentioned Bluz’s grand reopening every chance I got.
Once the cleanup dwindled to a crawl, I set my sights on getting Bluz itself ready for the main event, hiring two new bartenders, another server, and a maintenance guy, all from the pack. Kelvin even agreed to be a manager. We spent two days cleaning the inside of the bar, top to bottom, and giving the place a fresh coat of paint.
My mate and his friends practiced every day, getting better and better together. They also had some super secret meeting after practice the night before that I wasn’t allowed to attend, but Di was invited to. I tried to get both her and Grey to tell me what the meeting was about after, but neither would budge.
Grey wouldn’t even trade his secret for a blowjob, and those were his favorite thing in the world.
On the down low, I started spending an hour every day scanning real estate ads for the right house. Selling the condo in LA would net me more than enough to cover a down payment. Problem was, I had to find somewhere that had enough space for Grey and his band without it being so big he wouldn’t like it. Grey liked smaller spaces that weren’t too upscale.
At night, I fucked my mate with the same passion as the first night and he started to open up more to me, telling me all the dirty things I did that he liked. We fell asleep every night in each other’s arms, and everything was perfect.
Except for one thing.
As the big day drew closer, I started to get nervous about talking to Inzo. I’d been with him at Brimstone for years, but I was more than just his maître d. He was my friend, and I didn’t want to leave him high and dry.
When the day of the grand reopening finally arrived, I stood in front of the mirror in the apartment above Bluz, staring at myself in the mirror with a frown. “Are you sure this looks okay?”
Grey snorted and hauled his shoe up on the toilet to bend down and tie it. “Sunshine, you realize you’re askin’ a blind man about fashion?”
“I just don’t want Inzo to think I’ve become some sort of slacker.” I smoothed my hands over the Bluz t-shirt. Maybe I should put a blazer over it. That’d make it look better, right?
“If he thinks that about you, he don’t know you. You said he’s your friend, right?” Grey put his foot down and stood, a hand on his hip.
“Yeah, but he’s also my boss. One of the biggest names in the restaurant industry, and I haven’t seen him in like a month.” I sighed and turned to help Grey straighten his clothes out. “I’m just nervous about tonight, is all. I need everything to be perfect.”
“You’ve done all you can. Just let it ride, Sunshine.”
I blew out a breath, letting my shoulders relax. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”
He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “You’d better get goin’ if you don’t want to be late to the airport.”
“Shit, you’re right.” I glanced down at my watch. I didn’t know how he did it, especially since he couldn’t see, but Grey always seemed to know what time it was. “Have a good last practice,” I told him and handed him his extendable cane from the corner.
We exchanged a quick kiss. I slid a treat to Simon on my way out the door and hit the road.
Inzo and Adam’s plane was supposed to come in at eleven fifteen. I made it through to meet them at the gate just in time.
Adam looked jet lagged to hell, but he must’ve gotten a lot of sun because his skin was a nice bronze with lines suggesting he’d spent a lot of time wearing sunglasses.
Inzo was the only one wearing shades when he came off the plane, though. He also had on a big hat, a Hawaiian shirt that was a size too big, and baggy cargo shorts. His pointed tail swayed in the air behind him as he sashayed toward me, a pet carrier swinging in his grip. “Gaston! My, the sticks have been good to you! You look amazing.”
“You look like a B movie star trying to avoid the paparazzi,” I said, trading grips with him.
“INZ’s been hounding us since the stopover in LA,” Adam said as he shook my hand. “It’s his own fault. Someone started an Instagram for his cat and keeps posting travel updates.” Adam rolled his eyes.
“You’re just jealous that Coco has more followers than you already,” Inzo pointed out, lifting the pet carrier. “Isn’t that right? Daddy’s little fluffernutter’s just so damn photogenic!”
I leaned to the side to scan the faces coming off the plane. “Is Nic not with you?”
Inzo waved me off. “Oh, he’s coming. I’m sure he just got distracted by a light or something. Anyway, look at him! Isn’t he adorable?” He held up the pet carrier for me to see.
I suddenly found myself staring into a pair of giant eyes on a tiny face. The creature let out a sound that would’ve melted the abominable snowman’s heart, a tiny little mew. I could see why Inzo was smitten.
He lowered the carrier. “Ah, there he is. Nic! Over here!”
The monster that flew over to us was inky black, head to toe except for his big, red eyes. I’d only ever met a few of the mothfolk before, since they tended to be nocturnal. Nic, however, seemed to be fighting his nature, as he was holding a cup of coffee with his long fingers.
His fuzzy antennae twitched as he caught up to Inzo and Adam. “Sorry. They had this big, beautiful light and…Never mind.” His lips parted and a long straw-like tongue came out to slurp up some coffee before he said, “You must be Gaston Dupris. Nicola Lightwing at your service.”
“Good to meet you, Nicola,” I said, bobbing my head and taking his hand gently. Mothfolk were notoriously delicate.
His wings twitched. “I’m told you have a musician I have to hear to believe.”
“A whole trio, actually,” I confirmed. “They’re playing at the grand reopening of Bluz this afternoon. Should put on a good show.” I glanced down at my watch. “Actually, if we want to catch the opening of their act, we’d better get a move on. Do you have bags to pick up?”
Inzo snorted and waved me off. “Oh, Gaston. You know I have people for that. Just tell me Bluz has decent southern food. It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper barbecue.”
I grinned and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Well then, you’re in luck. Barbecue is our specialty.”
“Is he here yet?” I shifted the guitar in my lap and glanced back toward Boyd.
Gaston had promised to be back in time for our opening, but we were due to play in just five minutes, and neither Boyd nor Alabama had spotted him.
“Nope,” Boyd said. “Place is packed though. Every table is full and there’s not an empty seat at the bar.”
“Biggest crowd I’ve ever played for,” Alabama confirmed.
Diana’s hand came down on my shoulder. “He’ll be here, hon. I’m sure he just got held up in traffic or something.”
Simon barked in agreement next to me.
I tried to listen through the din of voices for the door opening, but it was impossible to hear. Frustrated, I reached through our bond and felt reassurance there, but also nerves. The same nerves that’d been plaguing him all day, no doubt. I didn’t get why he was so concerned about Inzo’s opinion of him, but what the old incubus thought clearly mattered to Gaston.
“You still want me to introduce you the same way?” Di asked.
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Oh, they’re here.” She patted my shoulder and excitement fluttered through me.
I reached through the bond again and felt relief and more reassurance, but there was also pride there. Enough that it made me blush. You’ve got this, Greyson. Play your heart out, just like it’s another street corner.
Except this wasn’t. This was the biggest event I’d played in a long time. Gaston’s event. So much was riding on this that I had to nail every note like no one was watching.
Good thing I couldn’t see.
The sound system squeaked as Di picked up the microphone. “Friends, family, and longtime fans! First, I want to thank y’all for coming out to our grand reopening and supporting the Bluegrass Pack.”
Several howls answered from the crowd, along with pounding feet.
Di’s irritation at being interrupted was palpable, but she waited for the moment to pass. “Tonight marks the long-awaited return of live music here at Bluz, and we’re kickin’ it off with a hell of a group. You might’ve heard these guys around town. They’re just a couple of local boys with a mean, dirty blues sound. Give it up for Greyson Boggs and the Howlers!”
The cheers were thunder in my ears, punctuated by more howls and lots of excited hollering.
Di brought the mic back to me and lowered it before giving me a quick kiss. “Good luck, sweetie.”
“Thank you,” I said into the microphone, which squealed in response. I winced as the excitement settled down. My heart jumped into my throat and for a moment, I froze, unsure if I could go through with this. My nerves might be getting the best of me.
Then I felt an invisible tug at my subconscious that turned into a swell of pride and faith.
Maybe I couldn’t play for a bunch of nameless faces I didn’t know, but I could play for my mate.
I skipped the intro I’d been practicing and nodded to Boyd, counting down a one-two-three-four.
And then I strummed.
The guitar sang, the notes gritty and grimy as sweat on the back of your neck, but smooth as the first drink on a hot day. I smiled and kept on playing, note after note falling perfectly in line. When Alabama came in on his keyboard, and Boyd started on that hat, I knew we were all in sync and this was going to work.
We played through the first song, and I gave it my all, pushing what I felt through the bond into my voice to give it a little extra edge. It was an energetic number, one we’d written ourselves a few nights ago during a late-night jam. Then there was a short transition into a BB King classic, one made for slow dancing and late, lonely nights.
After that, we kicked the pace back up with our own arrangement of “Respect”, trading the sax out for a keyboard solo. By the time we reached the climax of the song, half the bar was singing along with us, and I felt confident enough to get up from the stool I was sitting on to move around a little. Simon knew to keep me back from the edge of the stage, and I trusted him to do his job.
Our set was a mix of original work, classics everybody knew, and a few surprises that were more modern. Most of the songs we’d played out on the street, either together or apart, and we knew those songs inside and out.
Being up on the stage was usually so draining, I couldn’t get out more than a few songs before I got tired of it, but having Gaston there to draw on made me feel like I had limitless energy, even as my voice disagreed. When I felt it start to get a little scratchy, I found my seat again, took a sip of the lemon water Di had left for me, and gave the signal that we were about to play our finale to Boyd and Alabama. Alabama was supposed to swap his keyboard for his second instrument for the big finale: a harmonica, while Boyd had a set of spoons to play. It was different from the rest of our music, but that’s why it was at the end.
“Thank you,” I said into the mic. “I want to thank you all for bein’ such an amazing audience tonight. Our last number is something I wrote a number of years ago. Now, I’ve never performed this song publicly, in part because it didn’t have a proper ending. I know blues are supposed to be sad, but this one just so happens to have a happy ending because I wrote it for someone very special.”
I moved the microphone back and waited for Boyd to tap out that he was ready. The whole place was silent as a church as I started to sing about the day I met the love of my life in an old record shop on Dixie. He was there for rock and roll to lift his spirits, and I was there looking for something to bring me down. We met in the middle, both eying the last copy of an indie blues rock album that’d been signed by the artist. He grabbed it first, and I tried to buy it from him then and there, but I only had a few bucks to my name, and he won out. Feeling sorry for myself, I dragged my ass out to mope on the sidewalk, only to have him dangle the record in front of me.
“I don’t want your money,” he said, “but if you’ve got nothing to do, I’ve got this old record player I don’t know how to operate. Maybe you could show me.”
And that’s how we met on what could’ve been the worst day of my life. That was the day I found out I was losing my sight, and it was the day I got blindsided by love. I knew by the end of that first day he was my man. It just took him a couple of years to catch up.
That’s what the last verse was all about, the whirlwind of delayed love, confessions in the dark, the storm that brought us together, and the love that’d keep us coming back for each other, again and again.
The chorus tied it all together with repeats of, “Maybe you could show me” and a list of all the things he had along the way. He’d shown me how good love could be, how we could draw on each other for strength and solace, and how the sweetest music was what we made together when no one else was around.
Thunderous applause broke out as I struck the last note. People whistled and shouted. There were even some howls out in the crowd.
“They loved it,” Alabama whispered to me. “They’re on their feet, Greyson!”
I smiled, and nodded my thanks to the crowd, but there was only one person whose opinion mattered to me, and he practically threw himself at me while people were still clapping.
“Greyson, you asshole.” Gaston sniffled as he threw his arms around me, lifting me from the stool. “You should’ve told me you were going to play that.”
He didn’t seem the least bit upset, though, and when he kissed me, the cheering only got louder.
I gave a nervous laugh and put my arms around his neck as he lifted me. “Did you like it, Sunshine?”
“Like it? Greyson, I loved it!” He kissed me again, carrying me down from the stage. “You did amazing. Come on. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
Gaston set me down and Simon came to my side, the two of them escorting me to a nearby table. “Greyson, I’d like you to meet Chef Inzo Amoretti, Chef Adam Amoretti-Northstar, and Nicola Lightwing. Fellas, this is Greyson Boggs. My mate.”
I knew the two chefs, but Nicola Lightwing was a new name to me. I nodded and extended my hand in their general direction.
“Your mate?!” came Chef Inzo’s voice, going high.
Chef Northstar giggled. “Guess it was more than a midnight rendezvous, huh?”
“Step aside! Let me get a look at him.”
I flinched back as I realized the incubus was getting in my space.
He gave a disapproving huff. “This is him, is it? The Greyson Boggs you were always going on about?”
Something warm fluttered through my chest. The eight years he’d been away… He’d never stopped missing me. I knew it. I could feel the truth of that through the bond. He’d even told Inzo about me.
“Well, human,” Inzo continued, “I hope you live up to my high expectations for my friend’s mate. I’d hate to have to eat your heart.” He hissed like a cat, only to yelp as someone jerked him back.
“Inzo, you don’t have to pet Cocoa like a movie villain while you threaten people,” Northstar mumbled.
Inzo snorted. “And why not? What’s the point of having a minion with foot knives if I can’t threaten people with him? Isn’t that wite widdle Coco? Who’s Daddy’s evil sidekick?”
“That’s nice,” cut in a third voice, “But kid, can we talk about that voice?”
Someone other than Gaston wrapped something large around me and started leading me away. A wing maybe?
“Nicola Lightwing, Evergreen Agency, talent acquisitions department.” He shoved a card into my hand.
I frowned. “Evergreen Agency?”
“I’m a talent scout, kid, and you’ve got what I’m looking for. That scratchy old record sound? That’s the kind of thing you can’t do with computers. You can’t mimic it. It has to be natural, and it’s rare. Rarer still to find someone with your range who knows how to use it.” We stopped walking, and he turned me to face him. “You got an agent, kid?”
Understanding dawned on me slowly. “Not yet?”
He snapped his fingers. “Good answer! Better answer is: where do I sign?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me lay it out for you,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Your name. In lights. So many lights. Big, bright lights…” He trailed off, only to shake his head. “Where was I?”
“My name in lights?”
“Right. I’m talking the full treatment. We’ll get you on the late-night talk show tour, hit up the Ole Opry, maybe a ten-city tour next year and international in three. I’m talking gold, platinum, double platinum. That’s what I see for you, kid. The big time.”
I frowned. “I can’t play without Boyd and Alabama.”
