Authors: Bec Linder
Wild Open (27 page)
Nathan just looked confused. O’Connor took pity on him and said, “Leah was on tour with us this summer.”
“Ohhh,” Nathan said, and nodded. “Right.” And he stood up too and shook Leah’s hand.
“Wow, what a welcome,” Leah said. “Should we eat? Is there coffee?”
“There had better be coffee,” O’Connor said, and just then spotted the waitress scurrying over to them with a pot in her hand.
O’Connor ordered a bagel, and then sat and drank his coffee while Leah caught up with Andrew and James. She already knew most of what had happened with them over the last couple of months, but they wanted to know all about her new job and her future plans; and Nathan didn’t know her at all, and was curious. O’Connor was partly jealous—he wanted Leah all to himself—and partly glad that she got along with his bandmates so well.
Mostly glad, he decided. The band was his life, and it pleased him to see Leah fitting so neatly into his life. But that wasn’t right; that made it sound like she didn’t have a life of her own. They fit into each other’s lives, like interlocking puzzle pieces.
He sipped his coffee and watched Leah laughing at a story James was telling, something about a man on a bus with a rabbit. This was what he wanted, now and always: good coffee, good company, and Leah looking at him and shaking the hair out of her eyes, smiling, real and warm and here with him.
He reached over and took her hand, hidden beneath the tablecloth. She gave him a look that made his chest tighten with uncomplicated joy.
“Gross,” Andrew said. “You’re making googly eyes at each other.”
“Is that the scientific term?” O’Connor asked, unbothered. Andrew couldn’t yank his chain today. “Googly eyes?”
“Hyper-obtuse sclera,” James said.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” O’Connor said. “You’re just stringing words together.”
“Now, now, Herbert,” Leah said. “You’re getting worked up.”
“Holy fuck,” James said, as Nathan started laughing. “She knows your first name? All right. I’m no longer skeptical. You’ve convinced me. It must be true love.”
Leah squeezed O’Connor’s hand beneath the table. He would see her again that night, and the next day, and the day after that. They had all the time in the world. He was the luckiest guy in the universe. True love. James was right: it definitely was.
One year later
Luka came to pick him up at the airport the evening of Leah’s first show. Ground transportation was a mess, as always, but Luka was a pro. He whipped in ahead of a confused minivan, trunk already popped, and threw open the passenger side door. O’Connor threw his bag into the trunk and ducked into the car, and Luka squealed away from the curb. The whole process took less than thirty seconds.
“Hey, man,” O’Connor said, and they bumped fists. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Any excuse to get out of the apartment,” Luka said. “She’s been making me crazy.”
O’Connor grinned. “Nerves, huh? She doesn’t know I’m coming, right?”
“Not unless she hacked my email,” Luka said. “I didn’t even tell
Bryce
you’re coming. There’s no way she knows.”
“Awesome,” O’Connor said. “Take some pictures of her face when I show up, will you? I’m in big trouble with our tour manager for doing this.”
“You want to send them to her as proof, I take it,” Luka said. “No problem. I hope Leah starts crying. I’ll get to make fun of her
forever
.”
O’Connor grinned. He knew how siblings were.
Leah’s new band, Victory Garden, was six months old. They had been writing songs and practicing, and recording a single, and now they were playing their very first show at the Wildhorse, as the opening act for Conoco, in—O’Connor glanced at his phone—roughly an hour and a half. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world. He was supposed to be in New York, doing some PR for their new album and getting ready to fly to London for the start of their European tour, but he had told Rushani he needed forty-eight hours to watch his girl kick ass. And it was true that Rushani wasn’t happy, but she also understood. He tried to put Leah first as much as he could.
Luka drove like a maniac, cutting people off and tailgating, and the whole time very calmly caught O’Connor up on the latest news. O’Connor white-knuckled the door handle and tried not to look like he was on the verge of apoplexy. Luka and Bryce were thinking about adopting a puppy, and Leah had just killed her new tomato plant, and meanwhile other drivers honked and flipped them off. Every time O’Connor got in a car with Luka, he swore it was the last time; but somehow he forgot how painful it was, and stupidly accepted a ride the next time Luka offered. He should have just taken a cab.
Somehow they made it to the Wildhorse in one piece. Luka drove the car around the rear of the club and parked in the small lot there, despite the numerous “DON’T PARK HERE MOTHERFUCKER OR ELSE” signs posted on the back wall.
“Uhh,” O’Connor said.
“Don’t worry,” Luka said, and turned off the engine. “Baby knows what my car looks like. He won’t tow me.”
“Okay,” O’Connor said, still a little dubious. Those signs really looked like they meant business.
His phone buzzed: Andrew.
Take video! Don’t forget to give her the present!
O’Connor rolled his eyes. Like he would forget.
They went into the club through the back door and made their way toward the front and the stage. As they got closer, O’Connor heard someone play a few guitar chords, and then he heard Leah’s bass, the distinctive run of notes that she played at every soundcheck. An involuntary grin spread across his face. He was about to see her for the first time in two months.
“Calm down, cowboy,” Luka said. “Remember that’s my sister.”
“Luka,” O’Connor said, “you’re a great guy, and I really appreciate the ride, but I don’t give a fuck.”
Luka, to his credit, just laughed.
They went into the main room of the club, where Leah’s band was soundchecking for a semi-interested crowd of the club’s techies and bouncers. Leah worked at the Wildhorse, of course, so the employees were more interested than they would have been otherwise, but soundchecks were never particularly thrilling. A large bald man spotted them and waved, and Luka went over to say hello. O’Connor stayed right where he was.
Leah was there, on stage, laughing, her guitar slung around her neck. O’Connor watched her, mesmerized, unable to tear his eyes away. He hadn’t seen her in so long. She played another run of notes and then deliberately hit a sour, discordant note, and laughed more when everyone else winced. “That’s what you suckers get for making fun of me,” she said, speaking directly into her microphone.
One of the gathered techies booed, and Leah grinned and flipped him off.
Luka cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Leah Zielinski, special visitor.”
Leah stopped what she was doing and scanned the room, her eyebrows drawn together in adorable confusion. And then she spotted O’Connor, and her eyes widened, her mouth falling open. She took off her guitar and lowered it casually to the stage—O’Connor winced—and then leaped onto the floor and crossed the room in three long strides, her arms stretched toward him.
He caught her, laughing, and lifted her from the floor, kissing her face and spinning her around. She felt just right in his arms, a familiar weight, the familiar smell of her hair. He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone, more then he had known it was possible to love.
“Oh my God,” Leah was saying, again and again. “Oh my God.”
“Surprise,” he said into her ear, and set her down again at last.
“Luka!” Leah shouted, and shot an accusatory look in her brother’s direction. “You knew about this!”
“I picked him up from the airport,” Luka said, unruffled.
“The two of you were colluding,” Leah said. She looked up at O’Connor, scowling, but he saw the joy shining from her eyes. “Conspiring against me.”
“Of course we were,” he said, and bent to kiss her.
Someone wolf-whistled.
O’Connor felt Leah’s mouth curl into a smile.
“Enough hanky panky,” someone said. “Doors open in fifteen minutes.”
“We’re in the middle of soundcheck, Leah,” someone said from the stage. O’Connor was too busy kissing to look.
But Leah pulled away and said, “Okay, okay, soundcheck.” She smiled up at O’Connor. “Give me a few minutes, okay? Do you want a beer? I can’t believe you flew out just for this.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”
She kissed him again, sweet and swift, and bounced back onto the stage and said, “Okay. Soundcheck.”
O’Connor smiled. They would have time, after. After the show, after the afterparty. He had booked a hotel room for two nights, and he didn’t have to fly back to New York until Monday morning. He would have plenty of time to show Leah just how much he had missed her and how happy he was to see her again.
For now, he was going to sit back and enjoy the show.
“Okay,” Leah said, slinging her guitar strap around her neck. “Let’s play something. What should we play? Let’s play ‘Hop Skip.’”
The drummer rattled off a quick fill, and Leah grinned, shining, beautiful beyond measure, and played the first note.
THE END
You’ve just finished the first book of the Saving Graces series. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the book, please consider
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The next book in the series, Hurricane Move, will be about Andrew and Rushani, and will be released in late 2015 or early 2016. You can
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Other Books by Bec Linder
The Silver Cross Club
Acknowledgments
I’m grateful to FF for sharing his experiences of life on tour, and to DS, who wanted to read it.
Mr. Linder continues to vie for Husband of the Century with his patience, support, and careful proofreading.
And many thanks to all the readers who asked for more.
©
2015 Bec Linder, all rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. References to real places and entities are used for verisimilitude and are intended as fictitious representations.
Cover design
©
Bec Linder. Cover photograph Depositphotos.com