Page 14 of Dead Rockstar

I turned to face Phillip, who was standing behind me, silent and hulking. “Jesus, you scared me half to death!”

A rueful smile. “Better than all the way to death, no?”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.”

I tried for my best pissed off face. “It was a detective. Apparently, there's an escaped convict in town-”

“Bullshit,” he said, taking the card from my fingers. He examined it.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he was looking for me,” he said, handing the card back and shutting my door. He locked the deadbolt and the handle.

“And what if you're the escaped convict?” I demanded.

He leaned down, his face a few inches from mine, and his lips curved into a slow smile. “Then you're in big trouble, Stormy Spooner.”

His eyes were so huge and glittering, I almost got lost. I leaned back, gasping a little for breath, and laughed. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You, like, almost hypnotized me.”

He shook his head. “I didn't do anything. I was just, you know, being weird.” His face turned serious. “You do know that I'm not going to hurt you, right?”

“I guess so.” He didn't seem dangerous. The thrill I felt in my stomach definitely wasn't from fear.

“This guy, whoever he is, he's hoping that you think just that – that I'm a danger to you. So you'll turn me in.” He looked at me plainly. “And if you want to, you should. I'm not going to ask you to hide me.”

“I'm not going to turn you in to some Boy Scout,” I said, irritated. “Even if I should. None of this makes any fucking sense. I know that wine I buy at the gas station is cheap, but Jesus fuck, I didn't know it would make me hallucinate-”

“I'm grateful to you, Stormy,” he interrupted. “You brought me back. I mean...damn. I kind of can't believe it. I never thought – the guys laughed when I designed the liner notes – said I was fuckin' nuts. If they could see now...” He seemed to be having some dialogue with himself. “But they'd be in their fifties by now, if they're all alive. I can't go to them. I'll have to change my-” He looked up at me, and grinned. “Sorry. I've been underground for a long time. Have a few things to think about.”

“It's okay.” I tried to muster up some semblance of sanity, though I was shaky as hell. “Why don't you sit on the couch and relax, and I'll bring your wine to you? I can tell you what I know about the band, what became of them after you, uh...”

“You don't have to serve me,” he said.

“I know I don't. But I'm getting mine anyway,” I said and disappeared into the kitchen before he could protest. My hands were shaking.

When I returned holding our glasses, he was standing over by my stereo, looking at a Bloomer Demons CD. “I kept them all,” I said with a smile, sitting on the couch. “I have your whole discography on both vinyl and CD. I can't bear to throw them out, even though most of the time I listen on Spotify or iTunes.”

“What the hell are those?” He looked at me, puzzled, and sat beside me on the couch.

I handed him the glass. “You know, like on my phone.”

He shook his head.

“Like digital.”

“But a CD is digital.”

“No. Like MP3.” Still nothing. I realized he'd died before that had really become a thing. “Sorry. The way most people listen to music now, it's like a digital file and you can just stream the song from your cell phone using different apps like Spotify, or Pandora or whatever, or download a copy from iTunes or Amazon.” He looked really confused now, so I decided to shut up. “It doesn't matter, because vinyl is in again. Anyway, I have all your stuff. Even the really rare demos.”

“Did you ever see us play?” he asked. “Live?”

I frowned. “No. I wish I had. It was always my dream. But I was so young when you passed, I never got the chance. My parents never let me go to your shows.” I grimaced at the thought of my parents. It was weird to say, when you passed, like I wasn't sitting here talking to the man, looking as alive and healthy as possible. And he looked positively robust. His cheeks were flushed with life, and while he was pale, he looked remarkably well. It was very hard to believe that a few short days ago he was rotting away in a coffin somewhere. “They said I'd get into trouble. I think they suspected I'd find my way onto your tour bus and give you my underwear.”

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