should have seen the look on Dave’s face when you picked up
his guitar and started wailing on it. I thought he’d cry. It was a beautiful
moment.” He drew on his cigarette, exhaled. “So who’s this drummer?”
“Guy named Jake Edwards. Used to
go to Berklee with me.”
“So you called him, and he said
yes, just like that?”
“I called him at six-thirty this
morning and dragged him out of bed. His wife was royally pissed. He didn’t
say yes until I told him who I’d lined up to be the lead singer in my new band.”
Fiore raised both eyebrows and
said, “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, MacKenzie?”
“Nope. Pretty sure of you,
though.”
Fiore studied him at length, then
said, “You really are nervy for a wharf rat.”
“Thank you.”
“And now, my audacious friend, we
have to find a place to rehearse. I strongly suspect that Dave won’t let me
use his garage any more.” Fiore tossed his cigarette out the window, into the
street. “Especially since I fired him and Eddie five minutes after I found out
your name.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t
you, Fiore?”
Fiore grinned and said, “Nope.
Pretty sure of you, though.”
“We can rehearse here. My folks
will be cool with it. They’ve been putting up with my music for years. They
figure it keeps me off the streets and out of jail. We have a big family room
downstairs. With a piano.”
“I think this is a marriage made
in heaven, MacKenzie. You suppose we should at least ask first?”
He grinned, said, “Details,
details.” Set down his empty beer bottle, opened the car door, swung his long
legs down off the dash, and said, “Come on in. Let’s get this party started.”
Casey
She would have gotten hopelessly
lost trying to find the address, but Rob navigated the streets of South Boston
with the familiarity of a native. While he drove, she read house numbers. “Right
here,” she said when they reached number 36. “The blue one.” He slowed,
craned his neck to get a better look, then found a parking space two houses
down and wheeled the Explorer into it as though he’d been parallel-parking
behemoth four-wheel-drive vehicles all his life. He turned off the ignition,
and they looked at each other in silence before opening doors, exiting the car,
and meeting on the sidewalk. She stepped into his arms, and they held each
other, warmth to warmth, giving and receiving strength to deal with whatever
lay ahead.
He let out a ragged breath. “Looks
like this is it.”
She touched her palm to his
cheek. “Are you ready?”
“I don’t think that’s possible.
We just move straight ahead, ready or not.”
“This is a good thing,
MacKenzie. A moment of great significance.”
He kissed her palm. “Just be
there to catch me in case I pass out.”
She heard a car door slam, then
footsteps approached, and they stepped apart and turned to look at the man who
had just crossed the street. He was about their age, dressed in a gray suit,
and he carried a briefcase. “Mr. MacKenzie?” he said. “Greg Atkinson.”
Rob shook his hand, then said, “My
wife, Casey.”
“Mrs. MacKenzie.” Atkinson shook
her hand. “I hope your trip was pleasant.”
“It was. It’s a lovely day for a
drive.”
“Before we go up,” he said,
getting right down to business, “I want to make sure you’re both fully on board
with this. It’s not something you can undo, and you’re both looking a little
shell-shocked right now. She is your responsibility, Mr. MacKenzie, but nobody’s
forcing you to take physical custody of the girl.”
“We are absolutely both on board
with this,” Casey said. She took Rob’s hand, threaded fingers with him. His
hand was damp, and overly warm. And a little shaky. “One hundred percent. Of
course we’re taking custody of her.”
Atkinson studied her face,
nodded, and turned to Rob. “She’s my
his guitar and started wailing on it. I thought he’d cry. It was a beautiful
moment.” He drew on his cigarette, exhaled. “So who’s this drummer?”
“Guy named Jake Edwards. Used to
go to Berklee with me.”
“So you called him, and he said
yes, just like that?”
“I called him at six-thirty this
morning and dragged him out of bed. His wife was royally pissed. He didn’t
say yes until I told him who I’d lined up to be the lead singer in my new band.”
Fiore raised both eyebrows and
said, “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, MacKenzie?”
“Nope. Pretty sure of you,
though.”
Fiore studied him at length, then
said, “You really are nervy for a wharf rat.”
“Thank you.”
“And now, my audacious friend, we
have to find a place to rehearse. I strongly suspect that Dave won’t let me
use his garage any more.” Fiore tossed his cigarette out the window, into the
street. “Especially since I fired him and Eddie five minutes after I found out
your name.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t
you, Fiore?”
Fiore grinned and said, “Nope.
Pretty sure of you, though.”
“We can rehearse here. My folks
will be cool with it. They’ve been putting up with my music for years. They
figure it keeps me off the streets and out of jail. We have a big family room
downstairs. With a piano.”
“I think this is a marriage made
in heaven, MacKenzie. You suppose we should at least ask first?”
He grinned, said, “Details,
details.” Set down his empty beer bottle, opened the car door, swung his long
legs down off the dash, and said, “Come on in. Let’s get this party started.”
Casey
She would have gotten hopelessly
lost trying to find the address, but Rob navigated the streets of South Boston
with the familiarity of a native. While he drove, she read house numbers. “Right
here,” she said when they reached number 36. “The blue one.” He slowed,
craned his neck to get a better look, then found a parking space two houses
down and wheeled the Explorer into it as though he’d been parallel-parking
behemoth four-wheel-drive vehicles all his life. He turned off the ignition,
and they looked at each other in silence before opening doors, exiting the car,
and meeting on the sidewalk. She stepped into his arms, and they held each
other, warmth to warmth, giving and receiving strength to deal with whatever
lay ahead.
He let out a ragged breath. “Looks
like this is it.”
She touched her palm to his
cheek. “Are you ready?”
“I don’t think that’s possible.
We just move straight ahead, ready or not.”
“This is a good thing,
MacKenzie. A moment of great significance.”
He kissed her palm. “Just be
there to catch me in case I pass out.”
She heard a car door slam, then
footsteps approached, and they stepped apart and turned to look at the man who
had just crossed the street. He was about their age, dressed in a gray suit,
and he carried a briefcase. “Mr. MacKenzie?” he said. “Greg Atkinson.”
Rob shook his hand, then said, “My
wife, Casey.”
“Mrs. MacKenzie.” Atkinson shook
her hand. “I hope your trip was pleasant.”
“It was. It’s a lovely day for a
drive.”
“Before we go up,” he said,
getting right down to business, “I want to make sure you’re both fully on board
with this. It’s not something you can undo, and you’re both looking a little
shell-shocked right now. She is your responsibility, Mr. MacKenzie, but nobody’s
forcing you to take physical custody of the girl.”
“We are absolutely both on board
with this,” Casey said. She took Rob’s hand, threaded fingers with him. His
hand was damp, and overly warm. And a little shaky. “One hundred percent. Of
course we’re taking custody of her.”
Atkinson studied her face,
nodded, and turned to Rob. “She’s my
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