Page 14 of Torch Songs

“Seth Arnold did?”

Guthrie wasn’t sure if he hated doing this or loved it. “Man, look up Fiddler and the Crabs plus his name. See what pops up. Now I’m gonna go check the bathrooms. Try not to shit where you eat for a whole five minutes, okay?”

And with that Guthrie stalked off. Behind him, he heard Martin squeak, “You were in a band together? No shit?” and wondered if he’d live to regret that or not.

It didn’t matter. He rounded the corner into a booth, and after a cursory glance to make sure the place was pristine—it was, Tracy had done cleanup a half hour earlier—he closed the door, leaned against it, and pulled out his phone.

Did you get coffee?That was from two hours ago.

Still not enough. You still in your meeting?

Naw. Doing paperwork before we hit the streets and do interviews. You thought of one yet?

Guthrie blinked.One what?

A song! Something happier than “Long Long Time.”

Guthrie smiled. This could be a fun game.Journey, “Faithfully.”It was one of his favorites.

Ooh. Good choice for a musician. If you can sing Linda Ronstadt, you can sing Steve Perry.

Ooh. Someone who knew music—at least a little.But can I sing David Bowie or Freddie Mercury?

I don’t know. Can you?

He thought of a duet he used to do with Seth’s fiddle.I can do the Bowie part of “Under Pressure.”

Nice. You always like music?

At that point, he heard someone at the door outside, and he slid the phone back in his pocket and let himself out of the cubicle, making sure to stop and wash his hands before he left.

He was surprised to see Eugene C. Calhoun there, waiting for the cubicle.

“There you are, boy. Do you know that kid at the counter was talking all sorts of nonsense about you and a band? What do you know about that?”

Guthrie stared at him, not sure how to answer this. “Nothing, sir,” he answered, figuring if he was caught out, he was caught out, but he wasn’t volunteeringshit.

“Good. ’Cause if I catch you playing with people of bad reputation, I’m gonna have to let you go.”

Guthrie squinted at him. “Bad reputa—”

“That Arnold kid he was talking about. Didn’t he just marry another man? Did I hear that right?”

Guthrie nodded dumbly, remembering the bite of the wind, the roar of the sea, and Seth and Kelly’s absolute adoration as they lost themselves in the other’s eyes. “Yeah,” he rasped.

“That’s not our kind of business here, you understand me, boy?”

“Loud and clear, sir,” Guthrie said and slipped numbly out of the bathroom. He slid onto the stool next to Martin and started drawing up the schedule for the coming week.

Next to him, Martin muttered, “Sorry, Guthrie. I had no idea he was that kind of prick.”

Guthrie gave him a glance, suddenly feeling bad for the kid. “Martin, sometimes you’ve got to assume everybody’s that kind of prick until they show you different. I know it’s not fair, but there it is.”

Martin nodded, his eyes red-rimmed. “You used to play with Seth Arnold. That’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Guthrie gave him a smile and threw him a bone. “Truthfully, kid?”

Martin nodded.

---