Page 84 of Steady Stroke
“It’s too bad you can’t pay a guard to beat the asshole up in jail,” Roxy said. “He’d deserve it.”
“Yeah, he would.” Lincoln wouldn’t have minded taking a few swings at the guy himself. Too bad the courtroom had been full of witnesses. “But Emmett wouldn’t want that.”
“That guy is too nice for his own good. He’s lucky he’s got you around.”
“I’m lucky to have him around.”
She ruffled his hair. “Aww, Lincoln West, am I crazy, or are you falling for this guy?”
He shrugged, then switched off the living room lights. “I’m going to bed.”
“That’s as good as a yes.” She whooped a little as she scurried into the kitchen.
Lincoln crawled into bed, then texted his thank-you to Emmett. He might not see it for a few hours yet, but it would be waiting for him when he got off work. Today had been a few ups, and a whole lot of downs, but it had also been the beginning of an ending for Emmett. The end of Emilio Sharif’s life in Baltimore, and the new start of his life as Emmett Westmore. A chance to start over fresh and discover what he wanted out of life.
And as sleep stole over him once more, Lincoln did something he’d never done before. He prayed to whatever deity might possibly be out there and listening to let him continue to be part of Emmett’s life.
I need him.
NINETEEN
The next two-ishweeks passed in a blur for Lincoln. The best kind of blur. He spent his afternoons onstage at Off Beat, playing everything from soft rock to country to jazz, with Emmett often singing along. Only one session had ended with a migraine, and he was starting to understand the cocktail of stress, lack of sleep, overheating, and too many yellow lights that would end in serious pain.
And maybe beer, too, so he avoided beer and stuck to the occasional Jack and Coke on the evenings he spent at Off Beat off-the-clock. Beatrice had agreed to put him to work three nights a week as an extra bar back, prepping garnishes and running food. He enjoyed having something to do other than sit at the bar and watch other people perform by night on the stage he haunted by day. Plus he was finally earning his own money again, instead of relying solely on the Bounds’s generosity.
Melody didn’t make another public appearance until the Fourth of July barbecue that Beatrice threw in her backyard. Van had helped her find another apartment—not easy in the middle of summer at the beach, but apparently he had connections—and she’d moved at the end of June. Her face was healing well, but she caked on the makeup to hide what was going to be a dime-size scar on her left cheek.
She was in good spirits for the barbecue, though, mostly chatting with Van and Adrian. Beatrice had invited the entire Off Beat staff—cooks, bartenders, servers—plus friends from other area businesses, so the backyard was packed with people. The whole production made Lincoln a little nervous, Emmett doubly so, so they spent most of their time indoors and out of the heat.
Emmett’s hair had grown out a little since they first met over a month ago, the black roots slowly overtaking the medium-brown ends that he kept trimmed short, and he never had bothered replacing his colored contacts. Lincoln loved watching Emmett embrace himself again, instead of hiding.
They were eating plates of burgers, coleslaw, potato salad, and corn on the cob at the kitchen table without really talking about anything, which was pretty cool. Lincoln couldn’t remember the last time their silences had been awkward. Sometimes it was nice to simply exist in the same space without expectations of conversation or physical affection.
Not that Lincoln was opposed to physical affection, but after that one moment, Emmett hadn’t broached the subject of anal sex again. Which was fine, because the sex they did have was fucking amazing. The right time would come along, and it would be perfect.
“Unbound’s coming up soon,” Emmett said. He’d been staring just past Lincoln’s shoulder at theStar Warscalendar on the wall.
“Eighteen days.”
“You’re counting down?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Lincoln was equal parts excited and terrified about Unbound. Excited to play onstage withhis closest friends; terrified that he was going to fuck it all up and embarrass the band.
“I guess so.” Emmett poked at his half-finished corncob. “You really should do a rehearsal run.”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for the last few weeks? Rehearsing?”
“I mean in front of an audience larger than Adrian and Aunt Beatrice.”
Lincoln’s chest tightened. “What do you suggest?”
“How about today? There’s about sixty people outside, and you won’t have to worry about the lights.”
“Just the sun.”
“Which is why you have sunglasses.”
Lincoln both loved and hated the idea, and he wasn’t sure which part of him was going to win. He couldn’t use the excuse of not having his QChord, because he lugged that thing everywhere he went lately. It had become an extension of his body, and it felt weird not to have it close by.
