“Wasn’t ‘til just this second,” he says, grinning at me. “But when the big guy answers your only prayer, you got to give credit, right?”
“Well, you seem to be in confession mode, so I guess that makes sense.”
His eyes soften. “I should have told you this shit before I left.”
“Yeah, well…” I say, “I think maybe you tried, but I wasn’t ready to hear it then.”
“But you are now?”
I take a deep breath. “Not quite, but maybe by Tuesday.”
“Tuesday,” he says with a nod. “The only thing I know for fucking sure is the next three days are going to blow.”
“Night, Tro,” I say.
“Night, Lucky.”
I disconnect and stare at the phone before pulling myself up and heading back into Lilah’s place.
On Tuesday everything is going to change, one way or another. Which way that goes is going to be up to Tro.
Chapter 29
Tro
The flight from Rome to JFK feels like a funeral procession. Jamie and I are across the first-class aisle from each other and Grim is on Jamie’s other side. No one talks and Grim is well on his way to cleaning out the entire plane’s alcohol supply, tiny airline whiskey and vodka bottles lined up on his tray table like bowling pins. About halfway through the ten hour flight, when he starts slurring a string of expletives across the aisle at me, the flight attendants cut him off. When he wants to climb over Jamie’s lap to get to me, Jamie’s able to talk him down and finally he passes out.
Jamie nudges my elbow from across the aisle. “We’ll get through this, man. By the time we’re back in the studio next month, Grim will have cooled down and everything will be fucking fine.”
He’s trying to sound confident in his prediction, but from the squint in his eyes, I can tell he knows it’s most likely bullshit.
I sip my drink then set it down and swirl the ice cubes. “I don’t think so, man. I’m just not feeling it anymore, and I don’t think you’re going to get Grim on board with that plan anyway.”
I know he’s already got feelers out for a new vocalist for “his” band, and I’m okay with that. It feels like the right move.
Jamie’s eyes narrow. “Christ, Gunner. You’re saying you’re really gonna just fucking walk away?”
I feel my head bobbing before my mouth opens. “I feel like it’s time. I’ve got some different stuff I want to do and Grim is still stuck in the same place he’s always been. I don’t think he’s capable of evolving. As a person or an artist.”
Jamie looks toward Grim, on his other side. “Fuck. I can’t fucking believe that this might be over.”
I drain my glass. “Not over. Think of it as a new beginning. Everybody gets what they want this way.”
But, just like Jamie, I know my prediction might be bullshit too. Because if Lucky’s not in Austin when I get there, I won’t have the thing I want most. The thing I need.
“What about me, man?” he says, his face crumbling. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever feels right. You can stay with Roadkill, or if you feel like it’s time for a change, I’d be honored to have you run my drum tracks. The invitation’s open, man. Your choice.”
He tips his head against the headrest and rubs his eyes. I know what he’s going to choose. As Roadkill’s drummer, people know who he is. Backing up a solo is a tough spot to get noticed. “This fucking blows.”
We make it to JFK without Grim trying to kill me again and after we clear customs we all head our separate ways, toward our connecting flights. When I get to my gate, I’ve got an hour to stress over whether Lucky will be there when I get to Austin. If she’s not, I just blew up my life for nothing.
But then I realize that’s not true. Lucky made me see how meaningless my life really was. Either way, with her or without her, this change is for the best.
But, fuck me, I hope it’s with her.
The flight to Texas is only four hours, but they’re the longest four hours of my life. When finally we unload in Austin, my chest is so tight I can’t breathe. But when I get to the end of the jet bridge, my heart skids to a stop.
Lucky is waiting at the gate.
My feet stall and the guy behind me slams into my back.
“Sorry, man,” I say, and when I turn back to Lucky, she’s smiling.
It pierces straight to my heart and I feel like a love-struck teenager, complete with rampant hormones. Because the image that takes hold in my mind as her smile fades is her naked body pressed against mine.
“Hey,” I say, finally forcing my feet to move.
“Hey,” she echoes.
I take her arm and turn us up the concourse toward baggage claim. “How did you get here?”
She breathes a laugh. “My father was too stoned to remember to use a condom.”
I smile and shake my head. “Let me rephrase that. I’m surprised Billie let you come to Austin.”
“I fired her,” she says.
My feet stall again and I spin to face her. “What?”
“It was all bullshit.” A disgusted frown twists her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t spot the con.”