Page 107 of The Music Demon

“So, if you had a genie, what would you want? To audition for bands forming or start your own?”

“As long as I’m with guys who get me musically, and vice versa, who want to create the kind of sound I have in mind? I don’t care.”

“You know what gets in the way of that? Ninety-nine percent of the time?”

“What?”

“Egos. Giant, whale-sized egos. You know musicians are a weird lot. Acquiring this level of musical skill requires an awful lot of time alone in a room learning. Practicing. As you know.” He nodded. “People like that are not always good socially.”

He was considering that and wondering if it applied to him as she went on.

“Somebody like you, who can front, you should start yourownband. You need guys who can play and aren’t too much trouble personality-wise. People who understand that getting along is as important as anything.” She yawned. “Okay. I’m gonna go. I’d ask you in, but it’s not a real date. Right?”

“Not a real date?”

He sounded confused, which was exactly the reaction she was hoping for. Those four words told her what she wanted to know. Was he interested in her only for how she might help his career? Or was he also interested in her as a woman?

She got the answer she wanted, but it segued into a conflict she didn’t want. What if Doo Darby hit the big time? She’d maintained a hands-off policy with musicians, deciding early on that having romantic “history” is counterproductive to being effective in the industry. Sooner or later you run into people. It’s just best to not know if they tuck left or right.

But even with those warnings clanging around inside her head, she heard herself say, “I mean, was it? Is it? Did you want it to be? Real. I mean.”

“Well. Yeah.”

She grinned. “I’m tired and this is gonna sound so hokey. But how about a goodnight kiss?”

He leaned in and their lips met half way above the console between bucket seats as his left hand pulled her feather lapel toward him. Both knew instantly that their chemistry went beyond a shared love of music, or even physical attraction.

When Cass pulled back for breath, she said, “Well, Doo Darby. It turns out you’re a great kisser. I was thinking I hate these new bucket seat contraptions.”

“Next time I’ll get a car with bench seats.”

“Next time I’ll invite you in. Maybe.”

“Maybe? What do I have to do to get to yes?”

She laughed. “We’ll see. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Sleeping.”

She shook her head. “No rest for the wicked. You want to be part of what’s happening here or not?”

He huffed out a soft laugh. “I’mnotsleepin’ tomorrow. What am I doin’ instead?”

“Pick me up at eleven. We’re going over to see Old Man Skinner on Sutter.”

“Ah. I have to give this car back.”

She laughed. “I have a car. You’re close enough to walk over. Right?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Okay. Night.”

“Night.”

He watched as she tripped up the walk. It was only then that it hit him. He’d kissed Cassidy Power, his grandmother’s friend and neighbor. Worse, he’d wanted a lot more. With a mental slap, he promised himself to never think about that again. She wasn’t the musical mentor he’d adored, the actual reason why he was in San Francisco in 1967. She was a gorgeous rock chick with flaming hair and totally smoochable freckles across the bridge of her nose, who was solidly plugged into the musical moment.

CHAPTER FIFTEENBlack Magic Woman

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