Page 19 of Dead Rockstar

“You could go see this guy, this Guthrie. He gave you the spell, right? It's likely he'd know the particulars, and maybe have an idea of what you should do next.”

“I don't have a clue where he'd be,” Phillip said, thoughtful. “I knew him twenty-five years ago, and he was a junkie then. Hell, he might not even be alive now.”

“But what if he is?” I asked. “He might even be in the same place. What was his last name? I could look for him on Facebook.”

“What's Facebook?”

“It's like a social networking site, on the internet. Most people have a profile. I could search his name, and the location-”

“I don't know his full name,” he said. “I don't even know if Guthrie is his first name or his last name. I think I'd have to go searching for him in person. The last I saw him was in Boston. That's where I'm from – my old stomping grounds.”

“I know,” I said. “Your biggest fan, remember?”

He smiled, but his eyes were faraway. “I guess you're right, Stormy. That's where I need to go to find Guthrie, if I can. There's a pit stop I can make on the way that'll ease my other problem.”

“What other problem?” I asked.

“The financial one. If I'm alive, I need money. Can't survive without it.”

I wondered how he'd get money without a bank account or credit card. I assumed his estate had long ago been willed to someone, though I had no idea who it might be, but I decided not to ask. It wasn't any of my business anyway.

“When will you go?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, maybe,” he said. “The sooner the better, I guess.”

I felt suddenly sad. I didn't want him to go. He seemed to read my mind. “Don't worry. I don't know much about the spell, but I do know that once summoned, I can't just disappear from the summoner. You'd have to release me, I think. I'll be bound to come back and see you.”

“I have to release you? How do I do that?”

“I'm not quite sure. Another thing I'll have to ask Guthrie, if I can find him.” He stood up and stretched, his faded t-shirt riding up again, revealing a flat stomach and a bit of raised, mottled skin – the burn scar he'd mentioned earlier. I tried not to stare, wondering how certain things had – what was the word he'd used? - rejuvenated, and others had not. “Could I use your shower, Stormy?”

“Of course. You'll find whatever you need in the bathroom closet. Just holler if you need me.”

“I think I can manage on my own,” he said, eyes twinkling. “But I'll bear it in mind if I get lonely.”

“Wait, I didn't mean-”

He laughed softly and leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, his lips soft and warm against my skin. Then he was gone.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up. Sloan. “What's up?”

“Hey.” She sounded annoyed. “I can't come by. My car's fucking dead. Can you come give me a jump?”

“I told you to replace that battery,” I said.

“That takes money, and I'm broke as hell,” she said. “Will you come?”

“Where are you?”

“I'm at the salon. I came in early to do a perm. Little old lady didn't even tip me. What a waste of a morning. Anyway, I'm stuck here.”

“Nobody else there?”

“No, if there was, I wouldn't need you to give me a jump. Stormy, will you come or not?”

“Yes, yes, I'll come. Keep your pants on.” I stretched and got out of bed. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom. “Might be half an hour or so, though. I'm just getting out of bed. I need to, ah – get ready.”

“You sound weird,” she said.

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