Page 37 of Echoes of a Muted Song

“And you can keep those fat, fluffy flakes on the east coast with you,” I grumbled. “And go right back to your dream, after you tell me why the fuck you were blowing my phone up all afternoon!”

He snorted at that. “Oh, now it’s important to you.”

“Oscar, come on man, cut the shit and just tell me!”

“Fine. You want me to tell you, I’ll tell you. The driver of the green van came forward, and his story backed up your story. He even had a partial plate and vehicle make on that red car. Told the cops that the plate had the letters f, s, and hon it. This is Massachusetts, for fuck’s sake, half the vanity plates are fisherman trying to brag about some fish they caught. Figured it would take a while for them to sort it out, so I was going to tell you not to get your hopes up. Only the cops put that information out on the tipline, too, and they got another tip, from a mechanic this time, who said that his brother-in-law drove a 1997 flame red Ford Mustang with vanity plates that say Crwfsh, and that he fixed the front end of that car the day after the wreck, had to work overtime to do it and the guy stiffed him on half the bill.That’s family for ya. Anyway, since you waited so late to call, now I get to tell you that you’re clear. The charges have been dropped. The cops arrested the guy two hours ago, and he cracked and blurted out everything. Guess he’d started getting phone calls from people he knew, telling him they were broadcasting his plate all over the internet. Seems like your fans got involved in spreading it around when it hit the tipline, and well, by now, half the country knows you weren’t involved.”

My knees buckled. Instead of hitting the ground, I found myself supported by a sturdy body and hands that gripped my arms as Christine ordered me to breathe. My vape had fallen from my fingers, the glowing screen flashing forlornly on the ground while I tried to wrap my head around what he’d just told me.

“Johnny! Johnny, did you hear me? You owe me a seafood feast, fucker, I told you the tipline would work!”

My throat felt too tight and my eyes itched as I drew in a ragged breath and shuddered.

I’d been cleared?

It was over?

“Johnny.”

“Tell me what you just told me but say it slow and leave out the extra bits,” I muttered as I leaned against Christine.

“The charges against you have been dropped, the civil suit, too. It’s over, Johnny. It’s all over.”

“Holy. Shit!”

Squealing, I threw my hands up and danced like I’d just stepped on an anthill, howling at the moon, before wailing as I crumpled in a heap on the ground. Christine was by me in an instant, one hand on my shoulder, a grounding presence as I sobbed.

“Johnny? Oh, shit, Johnny, Johnny, what happened?!”

Rebel’s voice proceeded his arms wrapping around me as he hugged me while I rocked and stammered out a garbled mess of words and choked out sounds that I knew he wouldn’t understand. I felt a tug on the phone, and heard the dim rumbling of my lawyer’s voice still trickling from it as Rebel pulled it from my hands.

“Who is this?” Rebel snapped, then fell silent to listen as he held me.

“Wait, seriously?! You’re serious! You’re not fucking around?”

Rebel’s hold on me tightened, right before his voice nearly shattered my eardrums. “Fuck yeah! Oh my fuckin’ god, it’s about fuckin’ time! That’s wicked awesome! Holy shit, we gotta tell everyone!”

The phone was close enough to me for me to make out my lawyer’s exasperated declaration that we could do all of that without him on the phone, right before he ended the call. Snickering, I felt the first giggle spill forth and in an instant Iwent from sobbing to laughing.

“Rebel, what the hell, what’s going on?”

That was Dash, which meant Ozzy wasn’t too far behind him.

“Go get Draven and the rest of the guys, too, hurry up, this is fuckin’ awesome.”

“Well, what the hell is it and why are you two on the ground?” Dash called back.

“Just go get everybody!” Rebel declared in between chuckles.

We clung to each other, laughing, singing “Free Bird,” and giggling like we’d spent the whole night smoking Cake Pop and Laughing Budda. We were still at it when the others crowded around, voices a mixture of concern, confusion, and irritation, but that was mostly Dash being pissy about not knowing what was happening.

Jagger crawled over Rebel to get to my lap and shook me until my teeth clacked and I bit my tongue.

“Ohh, oweeee!” Moaning, I slapped a hand over my mouth and tried to get him to stop shaking me, but Jagger was all wound up and ready for the stage, there was no reining him in.

“What is going on?!” Jagger howled, nudging me until Draven dumped a bottle of freezing water over his head, which he proceeded to shake all over me.

Holy shit, that was cold.

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