Page 17 of Steady Stroke
“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking. Listen, I’m calling on behalf of Anthony Kross about this year’s Midatlantic Unbound competition.”
The competition XYZ had placed first in for the indie rock category, securing them a spot at the national competition. A competition they’d missed because of that stupid mother-fucking hit-and-run driver.
Lincoln had no idea what Unbound had to do with him anymore. “What about it?”
“This past spring we did a website vote where fans couldselect their top five performers from last year’s ten category winners, and XYZ was the number one voted group.”
“XYZ doesn’t exist anymore.” Saying those words left a toxic aftertaste in his mouth. “But it’s cool people still remember us.”
“I know XYZ doesn’t exist as a group anymore, but its four members still do. I’ve already spoken to Dominic and Benji, and they’re both on board to play again. They’re working it out with their managers and schedules, so they can be there on Thursday night to open the competition.”
Annoyance burned under his skin. “You already talked to Dom?” And Dominic hadn’t called him yet?
“Yes, about an hour ago. He and Benji have the trickiest schedules to work out, and I didn’t want to offer the gig to you if they couldn’t get on board.”
The idea of playing at Unbound again danced in front of Lincoln’s eyes like a steak dinner dangled in front of a starving man. And then the image extinguished itself under a harsh splash of reality. “I don’t play anymore.”
“Dominic mentioned your difficulties since the car accident. He also mentioned you were starting to play on a synthesizer again.”
Part of him hated that Dominic was spreading his personal business to other people. Another part saw a tiny flicker of hope, like the first few notes of a new song he hadn’t quite figured out. “I don’t even have the new instrument yet.”
“Unbound isn’t for another seven weeks,” she said in that super-patient voice he remembered well. “Give yourself a chance to learn this new instrument and to practice performing. If it doesn’t work out, we can use a different band.”
“A different band?” Why wouldn’t they just replace him so the other guys could play?
He practically heard the smile in her voice. “Dominic andBenji both told me that their participation is hinged upon the founding member of XYZ taking the stage again.”
Lincoln sat on the edge of his bed, overwhelmed with the love and loyalty from his two friends. They didn’t want to perform without him. Dominic had once told him that Lincoln was the heart of XYZ. That he’d held the band together for almost four years, with other members coming and going. That his tenacity had ultimately gotten them to Unbound. Emily’s words helped drive Dominic’s home with unexpected force.
He struggled for words, then cleared his throat hard. “What about Tyson?”
“He’s my next call. I understand he hasn’t been on the scene recently, but he is a very good percussionist.” She paused. “What do you say, Lincoln? Are you interested in resurrecting XYZ for one night?”
“Yes.” Even though he had no earthly idea if he’d even be able to play the QChord without side effects, much less get up on a stage and do it, Lincoln wanted to try. He wanted it like he hadn’t wanted anything else in a very long time. “I want to do it.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in touch with details down the road. And if there are any problems with Tyson’s participation, I’ll let you know.”
“All right.”
“Welcome back, Lincoln.”
“Um, thanks.”
He stared at his phone for a long time after he disconnected, unable to process his life over the last twelve hours or so. He had a QChord coming early next week, an instrument that could mimic a guitar, and that maybe he could play without a serious case of vertigo. XYZ had a chance to play together again onstage, in front of thousands.
Lincoln had a chance to play on a stage again, in front of thousands.
All he could think to do was send Dominic a text:OMG.
Dominic must have been waiting for his reaction to the inevitable call, because his phone rang less than five seconds later.
“Dude!” Dom’s joyous greeting made Lincoln’s heart pound. “She called you, right?”
“Yeah, she called me.”
“You’re in, right? You told her you’re in?”
“I did.” For some reason, Dominic’s excitement wasn’t bleeding over to Lincoln like it had last night during their QChord conversation. Mostly because it still seemed like a faraway dream to Lincoln. He hadn’t even tried playing his new instrument yet, much less managed to learn a song on it.
