Page 12 of Deacon

Most of all, I missed Ana.

I yearned for our quiet Sunday mornings in bed before the world woke up, the touch of her hand on the back of my head, stroking me the way I liked.

Hell, the glide of her smooth skin against mine under the sheets, and the soft sound of her laughter into my neck.

When she reached for me and turned me on with a squeeze of her hand.

I missed how I always kissed the corner of her eyes, seeking the stars in her gaze.

Fuck.

The electronic chime of the security keypad at the entrance beeped twice, jolting me from my reverie.

‘Deke?’

Levi stepped into the hallway, using the guest code all my bandmates had to get through the gate and front door.

‘Hey man,’ I said, striding over to meet him.

I gripped his hand and pulled him in for a side hug.

Levi was a true brother to me.

He was Six Sinners’ violinist, our freakin’ philosopher, and spiritual guide.

A deep thinker, he was also an amazing lyricist, and many of our most beloved songs were born from his pen.

He had neat locs spilling over his shoulders and silver jewelry to die for graced his hands, neck, and fingers.

The man turned heads with his distinct, effortless style and had our female fans weeping from yearning.

Oblivious to the attention, he lived for his music and family.

He was Black British with Jamaican roots, his parents having settled in Sydney years ago when his mum took a nursing job down under.

He was the ‘dad’ of the band, always fussing over us and feeding us his mum’s authentic jerk chicken and rice and peas whenever we toured through Australia.

‘Did Reign send you the drum solo concept?’ Levi asked.

Reign was our shaggy-haired drummer who made people weep with his runs. His solos were legendary, rivaled only by his obsession with motorcycles and classic engine builds.

‘Did he ever,’ I said. ‘The man plans to rip through the last three minutes of the track and prove his place among the percussion elites. He mapped out several passages with intricate interplay, evoking the infamous Bonham Triplets and odd time signatures. His stamina knows no end. He permutates through fill after fill, roll after roll, and sequence after sequence. I predict music geeks will rank this as one of the greatest drum solos in rock.’

We had studio sessions slated for next month to cut new material, so sharing our arrangement notes kept the whole band aligned.

‘You said it. We’re blessed to share a stage with him,’ Levi said. ‘I came by to grab the scoresheets with your sax notes.’

‘I got you, I finished them last night.’

‘You ready for the heat, my guy?’ Levi rumbled, tossing his truck keys onto the marble console by the front door.

His boots thudded on the hardwood as we tracked back into the living room.

‘Madrid is scorching right now; won’t Mijas char you up?’

‘The sea breeze, brother, plus the ocean will help. Hell, I can’t wait. You know I’m a sucker for the sun and beach,’ I shared. ‘Go ahead, the music sheets are in a file on my desk. I’ll keep packing.’

‘Sweet.’