Page 35 of The Second Deal

Mybrows furrow. “Zakwrote something?”

“Yeah, that’s whatIsaid when he showed up with it.”Hepauses, peering at me curiously. “Didn’tyou get those packagesIsent you?”

Inod. “Yeah.”

Hisbrow, scarred from a piercing long closed, quirks. “I’mguessing you never opened them.”

Chewingon the inside of my lip,Ihate to admit, “Ipeeked inside, and whenIsaw it wasTimelessstuff,Ijust…Ipacked it away.”

Igroan softly, rolling my eyes at myself.Shannonwas just being a good friend, and hereIam being extra shitty even to him.

“I’msorry.Itwasn’t you.Ijust didn’t want anything to do with the band.”

Hisface goes blank for a split second before light reignites in his eyes. “Iget it.”Hisfocus returns to the board, fiddling with some switches. “Guessnow you’re here you might open ‘em, huh?Ifyou still got ‘em, anyway.”

“Yeah, of courseIstill have ‘em.Mightabeen band shit, butyoustill sent it.”

“Gladto knowI’mnot on your shit list, ha.”

Ithrow my arms around his slim waist since his shoulders just about clear my head and hug him closely. “Youwill never be on that list.JusthopeI’mnot on yours, either.”

Hesqueezes me hard. “Never.”Shannonsteps away and has an odd look on his face.Heholds up a hand and pinches his fingers together. “Justone little thing,Steph.”

Ohboy.Iknow that papa bear look all too well.

“Don’tgo makin’ false promises toDrea,” he says in a tight voice.Hisfeatures are hardened by an underlying resentmentIhaven’t seen sinceKrisdisappeared. “Kriswasn’t lyin’ that she cried for months after you left.Youremember her cryin’ for her mama when we couldn’t get her to understand why she hadn’t come back in so long.”

Mynose scrunches from holding back tears.Isniffle, crossing my arms and resituating my weight.

“‘Abby’ isn’t just because she couldn’t say aunty,”Shannoncontinues. “Abbymeans aunty and godmother, and in her own special way, it means mama, too.Youstepped up whenKriscouldn’t be the motherDreaneeded.Soyou walkin’ out the way you did destroyed us both.”

Myhead hangs.Staringat the faded blue rug covering cords running across the stage can’t erase the sulk from my face.

“You’restill my best friend,Steph.Butdon’t go promising shit to our girl if you’re not gonna stick around.”

Hetwists around for another cord, resuming preparations for sound check.

Itake a step closer. “And…”Itrail off.

Thequestion is at the tip of my tongue, somethingI’vewanted to hint at sinceImade the decision to come back.

Ican’t swallow it down this time.

IsearchShannon’shazel eyes. “AndifIam?”

Hereaches for his back pocket and hands me a lanyard with laminated cardstock shoutingVIPin big, bold letters underneath theTimelesstour graphic.Themuscles in his jaw twitch. “Proveit.”

Slippingit over my head,Iask, “Needhelp with anything?”

“Yougonna touchZak’sguitar?”

Ihesitate.It’sa simple task, tuning and playing a guitar for the back-of-house engineer to adjust settings, but touchingZak’sequipment? “Doesn’the have a tech?”

“He’sjust like you, ya know.Ifhe didn’t touch it, then it ain’t perfect.”

Ihide a small smile behind my hand.That’ssomethingI’vealways loved about him: he’s hands-on and keeps at it until it’s perfect.

Bothon stage and in bed.

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