Read Online Something To Dream On by Diane Rinella - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diane Rinella
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Paul as Jimmy’s “Don’t touch her!” overlays him. “Nah, go for it,” Jimmy says with a chuckle. “Lizetta said you play. You any good?”
Am I any good? Well, I am no Steve Howe, but I hope Eddie Van Halen wouldn’t embarrass me too much. I pick up the Falcon. Paul and Jimmy cross their arms and the pressure is on. I give her a whirl with a complex riff I wrote before I almost burned my brain out.
Paul and Jimmy give a synchronized pause, glance to each other, and then shrug. Jimmy chimes in, “Yeah, he’s way better than we are.”
“Yeah, we suck.” Paul hangs his head in mock shame. “You playing with anyone now?”
That phrasing was odd. Maybe I am paranoid from drug damage, but the pang in my gut screams that I’ve been outed. I watch my words, just in case. “No, I’m between bands. I’m trying to live a drama-free life.”
“Jim, why don’t you see what is keeping that sister of yours?”
Why do I feel that was more his exit cue than a suggestion? It makes my lungs freeze up. If Paul knows about me, I may be screwed. I don’t want to lose Lizetta before I even get her. She’s a nice woman who seems respectable. My past may not make me worthy, but Lord knows I am trying to be. I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m ready to prove it.
Paul watches Jimmy dash to the house. Meanwhile, I try not to turn blue from holding my breath.
“You used to play in the clubs around here, didn’t you?”
Shit. Paul’s a biker and we played all the bars, clubs, and rallies from San Jose to Sacramento. That riff may have been familiar and tipped him off. “Yeah.”
He gives me the biker stance, the one with the crossed arms and firmly planted legs. Worse, I get a sideways glance that practically growls not to fuck with him. “You suddenly disappeared from the scene. What made you quit? And I’m not talking about the band.”
Crap! I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid enough to play dumb. “I woke up in a tub wearing only condiments and remembering nothing.” I leave out the part about the naked guys in bed together. I just can’t consider what that may mean; even though there was no indication that anything had happened. I would have been sore, or crusty, or something, right?
Right, God?
As much as I want this conversation to end, Paul’s scrutinizing eyes scream that he is not going to let me off easily. I lean against the Bel Air and voluntarily spill the rest of my guts while hoping that the more honest I am with him, the more slack he will cut me. Plus, there is an alarm going off in my head. It’s not a warning klaxon; it’s more of a nudge telling me that we have something in common. Someone who doesn’t understand that a person can right his wrongs would have tossed me out already. “You would have thought that the time I was in the back seat when a friend hit a pole and died would have done it, or when I almost ran over a kid on a bike, but no. It came down to it being all about me. It just goes to show all the more how pathetic I was and, by extension, still am.”
Paul holds the tough-guy pose. “How long ago did you stop?”
I look at him dead on. “I hit the ninety-day mark just over two weeks ago, the day before I met Lizetta, so not long at all.”
“Yeah, that’s about what the whites of your eyes say. I take it Lizzie doesn’t know.”
Geez, even now he can see the damage. Of course he can. He doesn’t have to say any more for me to know we are birds of a feather. I’m catching a hint of gravel in his voice, so he’s a former smoker. I’m betting he’s kicked several addictions. If anyone is going to get me, it’s him. “No. I can’t bring myself to admit it to her, but I’m determined to live right, so soon I’ll have to. It’s just nice that she’s getting to know the real me before she learns of the demon that I once was.”
Paul seems to get the full picture. Still, he won’t give me a clue as to whether or not my ass is getting booted out
Am I any good? Well, I am no Steve Howe, but I hope Eddie Van Halen wouldn’t embarrass me too much. I pick up the Falcon. Paul and Jimmy cross their arms and the pressure is on. I give her a whirl with a complex riff I wrote before I almost burned my brain out.
Paul and Jimmy give a synchronized pause, glance to each other, and then shrug. Jimmy chimes in, “Yeah, he’s way better than we are.”
“Yeah, we suck.” Paul hangs his head in mock shame. “You playing with anyone now?”
That phrasing was odd. Maybe I am paranoid from drug damage, but the pang in my gut screams that I’ve been outed. I watch my words, just in case. “No, I’m between bands. I’m trying to live a drama-free life.”
“Jim, why don’t you see what is keeping that sister of yours?”
Why do I feel that was more his exit cue than a suggestion? It makes my lungs freeze up. If Paul knows about me, I may be screwed. I don’t want to lose Lizetta before I even get her. She’s a nice woman who seems respectable. My past may not make me worthy, but Lord knows I am trying to be. I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m ready to prove it.
Paul watches Jimmy dash to the house. Meanwhile, I try not to turn blue from holding my breath.
“You used to play in the clubs around here, didn’t you?”
Shit. Paul’s a biker and we played all the bars, clubs, and rallies from San Jose to Sacramento. That riff may have been familiar and tipped him off. “Yeah.”
He gives me the biker stance, the one with the crossed arms and firmly planted legs. Worse, I get a sideways glance that practically growls not to fuck with him. “You suddenly disappeared from the scene. What made you quit? And I’m not talking about the band.”
Crap! I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid enough to play dumb. “I woke up in a tub wearing only condiments and remembering nothing.” I leave out the part about the naked guys in bed together. I just can’t consider what that may mean; even though there was no indication that anything had happened. I would have been sore, or crusty, or something, right?
Right, God?
As much as I want this conversation to end, Paul’s scrutinizing eyes scream that he is not going to let me off easily. I lean against the Bel Air and voluntarily spill the rest of my guts while hoping that the more honest I am with him, the more slack he will cut me. Plus, there is an alarm going off in my head. It’s not a warning klaxon; it’s more of a nudge telling me that we have something in common. Someone who doesn’t understand that a person can right his wrongs would have tossed me out already. “You would have thought that the time I was in the back seat when a friend hit a pole and died would have done it, or when I almost ran over a kid on a bike, but no. It came down to it being all about me. It just goes to show all the more how pathetic I was and, by extension, still am.”
Paul holds the tough-guy pose. “How long ago did you stop?”
I look at him dead on. “I hit the ninety-day mark just over two weeks ago, the day before I met Lizetta, so not long at all.”
“Yeah, that’s about what the whites of your eyes say. I take it Lizzie doesn’t know.”
Geez, even now he can see the damage. Of course he can. He doesn’t have to say any more for me to know we are birds of a feather. I’m catching a hint of gravel in his voice, so he’s a former smoker. I’m betting he’s kicked several addictions. If anyone is going to get me, it’s him. “No. I can’t bring myself to admit it to her, but I’m determined to live right, so soon I’ll have to. It’s just nice that she’s getting to know the real me before she learns of the demon that I once was.”
Paul seems to get the full picture. Still, he won’t give me a clue as to whether or not my ass is getting booted out
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