Page 44 of Songbird: Black Kite
Chapter twenty-seven
Wren
Fifteen Years Ago
Itwasspectacular.Probablyone of the most beautiful things I’d ever laid eyes on, and I couldn’t believe he was letting me touch it.
“The Martin D-18 Electric Acoustic,” I breathed reverently, my fingers barely ghosting over the warm wood of the body. “It looks identical to his.”
“I wish,” Hawk replied, laughing lightly, and I could feel his gaze on me as I stared at the guitar. “That one’s probably in a vault in Seattle somewhere. If it was in my possession, I’d never let it see the light of day again. I picked this one up a few years ago at this sweet little place in L.A. I saw her in the window, and I just couldn’t leave her there, you know? She’s been by my side ever since.” He paused, seeming lost in thought again before he added, “She’s special.”
I nodded, knowing exactly how it felt to hold a guitar that meant the world to you, andthiswas no ordinary instrument.
This guitar was legendary, even if it wasn’t the original. It was a piece of music history.
“I was way too young to have watched whenMTVaired the originalUnpluggedepisode, but I got the album when they released it a few months ago,” I confessed. “I actually got two copies, and kept one wrapped up for safekeeping.”
“I got my copy signed by Dave Grohl,” he tossed out lightly, as though having your album signed by an original member ofNirvanawas just an everyday occurrence.
Looking at him again, I realized it might actually be.
“Holy shit. You’ve met him?”
“Met him?” he laughed, playing with my hair again. He seemed to find the mix of colors fascinating. “That dude came to my last birthday party.”
“That’s wild.”
“It’s something.” Releasing my hair, Hawk suddenly stood, removing the guitar from the case and taking a seat on the couch. “Come on, Bird,” he said, jerking his head to the side. “Play for me.”
I stared, my eyes wide, and it took me a few seconds before I realized what he was saying.
“You want me to play? Like, on your Martin?”
Hawk laughed, shaking his long hair out of his eyes before he looked at me and licked his lips.
The way that single move made my insides quiver was completely unfair.
“Yeah, Bird. On my Martin.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered, shaking out my suddenly numb hands. “I don’t—I mean, are you sure?”
“Get your ass over here and play with me.”
I couldn’t breathe. The moment was too big, his request too incomprehensible to be real. There was no way this was really happening to me.
Somehow, my feet carried me to the couch, and I bit my lip as Hawk reverently handed over his most prized possession, his fingers brushing mine as the exchange took place.
“Alright. Show me what you got.”
“What should I play?” I asked dumbly.
“Anything you want. Consider this your first concert.”
Blowing out a breath, I placed my fingers on the fretboard, the familiar feel of the strings beneath my callouses comforting considering I’d never been more nervous in my entire life.
“You pick or pluck?” he asked, and I smiled.
“I’m good to pluck right now.”
