Page 90 of Incubus
“It’s our dad’s,” Jim said. “We want you to have it.”
“Figured you must be missing the chance to play,” Nathan added.
If possible, Sasha’s eyes grew wider and he reached out gingerly to touch the case. “I…I couldn’t accept something like that.”
“Sure you could.” Nathan grabbed the guitar and pushed it onto Sasha’s lap. He opened it up, right in front of Sasha’s eyes, to show him the newly polished and tuned acoustic. “We don’t play, genius. You do.”
“It would just be sitting in our Veil Slip otherwise, collecting dust,” Jim said. “We’d rather see it put to use.”
Sasha’s eyes spoke of further dissenting, but something about what Jim and Nathan were saying, or maybe just the fact that they were so whole-heartedly offering the guitar to him, made him change his mind. He pulled the guitar free and Nathan moved the case out of the way and set it under the table.
The bar was buzzing around them. As Sasha held the guitar, grinning madly but not yet giving the strings an experimental pluck, Nathan leaned over to whisper in his ear. “This place doesn’t usually have live music tonight, but the owner said he’d be thrilled if someone wanted to play a few songs for fun. See over there?” Nathan pointed across the bar to a balding man by one of the registers. “Just go up to him and say who you are and he’ll get you set up on the stage.”
Sasha pulled back from Nathan, his mouth completely slack. He glanced nervously at Jim, who was beaming into his newest drink. “You want me to play? Here? Tonight?”
“That was the plan.”
“But Nate…Jim…I can’t, I mean...I’m out of practice and—”
“You’ll be fine,” Nathan interrupted. He didn’t buy for a second that Sasha wasn’t the kind of guy who could just pick up a guitar and play again.
Sasha’s expression soon shifted with a slight glitter to his eyes. He smiled across the table at Jim and then turned to Nathan. "You want me to go up there and sing and play for the first time in months on my own birthday.”
“Yep.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Eh, it’s why you love me.” Nathan caught himself just as he said that, not meaning for it to tumble out quite that way.
“Okay,” Sasha said, saving Nathan from his tied tongue, “but don’t think I won’t be getting both of you back for this later.”
Jim chuckled happily, and since Nathan’s minor slip of the tongue had been passed over, he felt pretty good about things too.
As Sasha headed off to talk to the manager, Nathan reached over and pulled Jim’s glass out of his hands, taking a long drink from it before passing it back. “Good Long Islands here,” he said.
“Get your own,” Jim shot back, mockingly pouting and clutching the glass close once it was back in his grasp.
“I need a new drink,” Nathan said, feeling his buzz starting to fade despite the heat of his last shot swirling in his belly. “What should I buy Sasha next?”
“Trying to get him drunk? Because I don’t think he needs any convincing.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. Jim’s eyes already looked glassy. His heritage didn’t seem to include much tolerance for alcohol.
“You know, I’ve heard of this one drink…” Jim said.
“If you saySex on the Beachto me, Jim, I am punching you in the neck.”
Jim almost choked on his next swallow of Long Island. “I’m serious,” he said. “It's got...Sloe Gin, Southern Comfort, vodka, orange juice, and…something else, I think.”
“Well…that does sound pretty good. What’s it called?”
“ASloe Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall.”
“I hate you.”
Thankfully, the screech of a microphone saved Nathan from any more of Jim’s drunken teasing and they both turned toward the stage.
The bar was fairly packed but, even though all eyes turned to Sasha and his guitar, the incubus didn’t look uncomfortable in the spotlight. Nathan had figured that most of Sasha's squirming over playing tonight had been more for show.
