Page 45 of Electric Wounds
I take a deep breath, figuring I might as well share. Enzo clearly isn’t going to. “My mom was really into music. She passed that love down to me. She died when I was ten, and after that,my grandma raised me, doing her best to keep music alive in my life. That’s partly why I took this job—I’ve always wanted to be around music.”
Enzo listens quietly, his expression unreadable, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. “Sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks,” I say, giving him a small smile. “Music was how we connected. It’s how I stay close to her. I still have my grandma. She’s a rock. When I was a teenager, she kept the love of music alive, taking me to concerts and buying CDs. Even now, she encouraged me to take this job and follow my dreams.”
“She sounds like a strong woman.”
“She is,” I reply. “She’s taught me a lot about resilience.”
He nods, and we lapse into a more comfortable silence for a moment. I’m surprised by how easy it feels to talk to him once you get past the rough edges.
After a pause, I ask, “Do you ever dislike this?” Gesturing around the room, I encompass the hotel, then add, “Being on tour, constantly moving?”
“Sometimes,” he admits, staring out the window. “It can get overwhelming, but then we hit the next stage and all that fades away. What about you? Thinking about walking away?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet. This is where I want to be.”
“Good,” he says, looking back at me with something like approval in his eyes. “You belong here.”
That small statement hits me harder than I expect, filling me with warmth. Enzo is not one to compliment needlessly, so I know he means it. “Thanks, Enzo.”
He smirks again, but it’s less sharp this time. “Don’t get used to compliments from me.”
I laugh. “Noted.”
He sips on his coffee, looking back out the window, and I realize I’m not quite ready for the conversation to end yet. "What's your favorite memory with the band?" I blurt.
Enzo leans back, a nostalgic look in his dark eyes. "There are a lot. I’ll never forget our first big gig. We were opening for this huge band, and the crowd was massive. We were all nervous as hell. Jax had to run to the bathroom to throw up at least twice, and I think I sweat through my shirt before we even left the dressing room. We were all miserable. No one could even talk from the nerves. Then Jax made us say why we were there. It was when our pre-show ritual started. It felt kind of stupid, but we all did it. Then we went on stage and started playing… everything just clicked. The crowd went wild, and we knew we had something special."
I smile, imagining the band, years younger, waiting backstage, and being a total disaster. They’re so confident now it’s strange to think of the time when everything was new to them. "That sounds unforgettable.”
"Yeah, it is," he says with a small, almost fond smile. "What about you? Got any special memories tied to music?"
I think for a moment before answering. "When I was about eight, my mom took me to see one of her favorite bands. We had front-row seats, and I remember feeling the music in my bones. The speakers were so loud it felt like it was controlling the beat of my heart. My mom was so happy, dancing and singing along. That night, she told me that music has the power to heal and bring people together. I’ve never forgotten that."
"I’m sure she’s proud of you, Lily," Enzo says, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You’re doing something important here."
"Thanks, Enzo," I reply, slightly surprised that he can read me so well.
He nods, then leans back with a playful glint returning to his eyes. "So, any juicy secrets you want to share? Something we don’t know yet?"
I laugh, shaking my head. "I think I’ve shared enough for one morning. What about you? Any secrets, Enzo?"
He smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. "If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they?"
"Fair point," I say, still smiling. "But don’t worry—I’ll get them out of you, eventually."
"Good luck with that," he teases, his tone light. “Gotta keep some secrets. Gives me another reason to have coffee with you."
His teasing catches me off guard, and I giggle. "You can have coffee with me anytime, Enzo. All you have to do is ask."
We finish our coffee as the rest of the band starts to stir. The quiet morning gives way to the usual energy of the day, but the conversation with Enzo sticks with me. Maybe beneath his tough exterior, there’s more heart than he lets on.
TWENTY-NINE
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
Marcus
