Page 118 of Between Never and Forever
Pulling up to my house, there are cars and cameras already staked out on the street. There are always a few stragglers hanging out when I’m home, but this is fucking ridiculous.
“How long have they been camped out here?” I ask Red as he punches the code into the gate and pulls into my driveway.
“Since they announced you’d be performing at the award show.”
“Jesus,” I grumble. “That was almost two days ago.”
Red huffs in response and pulls the car into my garage. He parks between my Porsche that I never drive and my Harley that I never ride, and we climb out of his car at the same time. He walks to the trunk and pulls out my luggage, then trails me into the house.
I miss my mutt. Since this trip is such a quick turnaround, we had to board her in North Carolina. She’s living her best doggy life in a damn puppy suite with a couch and a basket of new toys she’s no doubt going to rip to shreds, but I’m selfish and want her with me. Rude, mannerless dog. I’ve been in L.A. a matter of hours and I’m already pouting.
When I round into the kitchen, I let out a startled scream, which makes Mabel scream and causes Red to rush forward and shove me behind him with one hand on the gun that I always forget he’s carrying.
“What the hell! Why are you screaming at me?” Mabel shouts, then points her finger at Red. “Don’t shoot me, for fucks sake!”
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” I shout back, panting with my hand pressed over my chest where my heart is threatening to burst out of my rib cage. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“I got here like two hours ago. I texted you.”
Mabel barely gets the last words out before she starts to laugh, which starts me laughing. Red grumbles something unintelligible and leaves the room.
“My phone is on airplane mode,” I explain through giggles. “Jesus, you ‘bout took ten years off my life.”
“Yeah, well Red ‘bout took my whole life off my life, blazing in here with his hand on the metal. I thought I was a goner.”
I roll my eyes playfully and climb onto one of my chairs at the kitchen island. It’s a little weird hownotweird it is to have Mabel in my house. Before everything went to shit, she’d show up unannounced all the time. She knows all my passcodes and everything. But it’s been so long since we’ve actually wanted to be in each other’s space that part of me thinks this should feel more awkward.
“What’s up, Mabes? Why are you here?”
She hops up on the counter across from me and sighs.
“I guess I miss you.”
My jaw drops and my head jerks back, and Mabel barks out a laugh that has me snapping my mouth closed again.
“Don’t act so surprised,” she says wryly. “I’ve spent nearly every day of the last decade with you. When you left to film your movie, it was like losing an appendage.”
“Aww, Mabes. Are you saying I’m your right-hand man?”
“Nah, but maybe like a big toe. Apparently, those are pretty important for balance, so...” She waggles her eyebrows and I laugh as she continues. “Seriously, though, I know Ham is the worst, and the label sucks, and things with you and Torren are weird, and Jonah is, well, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with him, but I’m glad you’re back, even if just for this weekend.”
I study her face and am almost bowled over by the sincerity I see there. A few weeks ago, I was certain she would hate me forever. It was nothing but scathing glances and snarky barbs between us. I hate to admit it, but maybe Ham was right when he said we just needed a vacation from each other. I’ll never tell him he was right, but maybe he was.
“I’ve missed you too, Mabes,” I say finally, then sigh. “I’m going to grab a shower and a nap before the chaos starts.”
Mabel smirks.
“Why, Sav Loveless, don’t you know? Youarethe chaos.”
“Long time, no see, Los Angeles. How are you all doin’ tonight?”
My voice carries through the outdoor venue, and the few hundred fans who managed to score seats to our last-minute surprise performance cheer back at me. We haven’t played for an audience this small in years. It’s still larger than the dives we played at in the very beginning, but after selling out stadiums on our last world tour, this feels more like an intimate family dinner than a rock concert.
I love it.
My leather skirt, vintage Blondie shirt, and ripped fishnets feel more right on my body than the clothes I’ve been stuffed into for the movie, and my silver hair is free and blowing around in the slight breeze. My lock and chain sit on my collarbone with a weight that I’ve longed for over the last few weeks. And the guitar in my hands, the roughness of the strap over my shoulder and the slide of my callused fingers over the strings, releases a tension in my body that I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying.
I wasn’t lying when I told Hammond that The Hometown Heartless is my band. It’s my story. My legacy. It'sme. And right here, with all these people in front of me, needing to hear my songs and sing along? This is as close to home as I think I’ll ever get.
