He nods and we head to the back, where Lilah and Bran are waiting.
“Hey,” Bran says, standing and shaking Tro’s hand before taking a beer from mine. “Great show, man.”
“Thanks.” Tro shoots a glance at me. “Think it was our best so far.”
Bran slides into his seat next to Lilah. “The girls were just putting on a show of their own.”
Tro’s eyes widen and slip to me.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I say. “We were just playing some of Lilah’s stuff—songs we used to play in the BART stations and whatever.”
“Don’t let me interrupt.” He gestures to Lilah to continue as he takes the seat next to me and cracks open his beer. “Please.”
She thinks for a second, then starts on one that was probably our best moneymaker back in the day.
When we finish, Tro stands. “Come on.”
I lift my eyebrows but not my ass. “Where?”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “There’s got to be a BART station nearby, right?”
Liliah’s eyes widen as she splits a glance between us. “Seriously?”
Tro locks eyes with mine, and in his gaze, all I see is boyish mischief. The player is nowhere to be found. A warm feeling spreads through my chest at the thought of being back in my territory, where I know the deal.
“Let’s do it,” I say, standing and towing Lilah up by the arm.
She grins and packs my guitar into the case.
We’re as quiet as four people on a tour bus can be, sneaking past Billie’s bunk. I grab a jacket off mine on the way by, remembering how cold it was when I let Tro in. He pulls the hood up on his hoodie as we step out into the cool night.
“Yeah,” I say, giving him a look. “That’s inconspicuous.”
He grins at me and takes off jogging toward the security gate. Lilah’s on his heels, carrying my guitar, but Bran waits for me to lock up.
He gives me an unsure smile. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”
I bust out laughing when I think about it. “That’s Tro Gunnison,” I say pointing after them. “How good are you at crowd control?”
He scratches his head. “Armed insurgents, I’ve got covered. Not so sure about rabid fans.”
I smile and take off after Tro and Lilah. They’re waiting just outside the gate for us.
“Thought you went soft on me, Lucky,” Tro says with a wink.
I shoot him a glare. “Just shows how little you know about me.”
He looks up the street past the stadium. There are still people milling on the sidewalk outside the exits, but the constant flow of fans has slowed. “So where to?”
“This way,” Lilah says, leading us up Battery Street.
Tro and I don’t talk as we walk, but he stays close by my side. When we get to the station, we lope down the stairs and Lilah uses her pass to get us all through the turnstiles. It’s warmer down here, but I take a second to scope things out before lowering my hood.
There are a dozen or so people on the platform, and most of them are in one of two groups, huddled together chatting. Chances are at least some of these people are coming from the stadium.
I move to the bench in the middle of the platform and Lilah follows. We sit and she pulls out my guitar, laying the case open at our feet, just the way we used to when this was how we made our living.
Bran slides onto a bench just across from ours and Tro stands at my side.
“Let’s see this subway magic,” he says with a nod at Lilah.
She smiles and starts in on one of my favorites. A few heads turn our direction with the sound of the guitar, but just as fast, they go back to their conversation.
Until I open my mouth.
With my first line, more heads turn, and by the time she kicks in with the harmony on the chorus, there are a dozen pairs of curious eyes perusing our small group. I watch the whispers pass around the circle, and several of them point to Tro.
He’s grinning ear to ear as he watches us, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone here is staring at him. When we come back around to the chorus and he starts singing along, that’s the open invitation. Despite the fact that a train is just pulling into the station, the group nearest us comes over and stares at him with wide eyes and goofy grins. A couple and one of the singles get brave and join the circle. The train doors open and no one gets on. Some of the passengers on the train look out curiously, and then I hear an “Oh my God!” followed closely by a “Go, go, go!” as a stream of girls exit the car nearest us and stampede over to where we sit.
We finish the song and Lilah starts plucking out the melody to the new song Tro wrote. “Do I have it right?” she asks as he smiles.
He nods. “You picked that up fast.”
She shrugs as she plays. “I’ve always just played by ear.”
When she comes back around, he starts singing the lyrics and the gathering crowd squeals and presses closer. On the second verse, I join in with harmony.