Page 42 of The Music Demon

“What’s better than a leisurely stroll on a nice night after a great dinner?” Lyric asked his companions, but didn’t wait for an answer. After all, how could anybody argue with that? He told the limo driver to drop the them off a few blocks from the hotel.

Of course, Lyric had an agenda. Demons typically do. He hoped walking while talking might bring Gray’s questions, and doubts, out into the open. He wanted any and all reservations aired because, as he’d been careful to explain, there could be no do-overs once Gray became a citizen of the sixties. It was a one-way trip.

“I’ve been wondering what you think of this place,” he said to Gray.

“This? Like San Francisco? Or the neighborhood?”

“Yes,” Lyric said simply.

Gray chuffed. “It’s so different. Just like you said it’d be. And great, too.”

Lyric grunted. “I want to be sure you understand there’s no coercion here. No judgement. No harm or foul if you change your mind. This is a free will kind of deal. If you want to stay in this time and go back home, you can consider the trip a gift. We had a fine and somewhat cheesy tour of the district, ate some passable seafood, and took a nice walk. Tomorrow night you could be sleeping in your own bed in Wimberley and we’ll part friends.” Gray said nothing, but Lyric noted that Shivaun gave him an approving side glance. Definitely approval, maybe even admiration. “So what are your thoughts?”

“I’m wonderin’ how I get there. Exactly. And how do I do stuff like get a job? My driver’s license says it expires three years from now. I’m thinkin’ somebody in 1967 might think it’s a fake.”

“If that means that your final answer is that you’re still in, then we’ll go back to the hotel and go over the logistics.” Shivaun slipped her hand into Lyric’s and a wealth of information downloaded all of a sudden. All those songs about walking in the sand holding hands. He hadn’t known what they were going on about. Until then. Who knew holding hands could actually be something worth doing? He smiled at her while saying, “Get ready for Phase Three.”

“What were the first two phases again?” she asked.

“Phase One was the offer. Phase Two was acceptance. Phase Three is the briefing.”

“What’s Phase Four?” Gray said.

“Blast to the past.”

At the elevator Lyric turned to Gray, “Meet us in our room…”

“Your room,” Shivaun corrected.

Lyric smiled. “In five minutes.”

“My sister thinks I’m on the way to Nepal.”

“I know.” Lyric’s smile dropped away.

Gray grinned. “Where I’m goin’ is a lot further than that.”

“Indeed it is.”

The door swung open and Shivaun waved Gray inside. His eyes widened slightly when they landed on a set of clothes laid out on the bed. “Those are for me?”

The outfit nicely displayed included tan pants with wide vertical, rust-colored stripes, a wide silver conch belt, a brown linen pirate-style shirt, and a pair of boots.

“You can’t show up in 1967 with anything from the future.”

“Why?”

“It’s against the rules.”

“There are rules?”

Since Shivaun wasn’t part of the conversation, she decided to practice conjuring Cosmopolitans while passively listening.

“Is she…?” Gray was distracted by the spectacle.

Lyric looked over at Shivaun. “What are you doing?”

“Experimentin’ with Cosmopolitans.”

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