by Cari Quinn
What made it so hard to make it easy indeed.
As Luc grabbed his boxy microphone and dished it right back to Mol, Mal slapped the hi-hats and grinned as his girl leaned close to his brother. Ricki tipped her head toward Michael’s while they played in a frantic tandem that matched the tangle of voices reaching for the rafters.
West rose up all the way off his seat, dancing in place like a crazy person. He spun around and played behind his goddamn back for a second before he whirled back around and braced his freaking foot beside his hands as they blurred over the keys. He bounced on one leg while he moved up and down the piano, never missing a fucking note.
Mal had to laugh. Jesus, West was a maniac. Mal had requested antics, so West was doing the best he could while he was stuck at the keyboard for the piano-heavy song.
They rolled into the guitar solo. Michael stepped back, raising his hands in the air and walking backward to jam with Ryan while Ricki tore that shit up on her own. This was what she was made for. Her long blond hair flying behind her as she played with the skill she’d bottled up for the long months of her recuperation.
No hesitation.
Nothing but fucking beauty.
Mal didn’t even realize he’d risen up off his damn stool to watch her play until the crowd started to hoot and holler and point. Fucking A.
Sap.
He pounded the skins and the hi-hats twice as hard, flipping his sticks in the air as Ricki caught wind of the commotion and glanced back to see what the hell he was doing. The huge smile splitting her face at his reaction made even the embarrassment fade.
Ah, what the hell.
He blew her his version of a kiss and the audience applauded and shrieked as if he’d just lost his pants. Kinda felt like he had, since his face was on fire.
Actually, no, losing his pants would’ve been far easier than showing himself to be just a dude in love with his amazingly talented girl.
He was, so he’d fucking own it. And he’d also own that he’d missed like five notes in this goddamn song. But Ricki nailed every freaking one, so it was all worth it.
Somehow they brought “Right Now” to a close amidst the insanity that had broken out, both on and off-stage. The somber mood was gone now, that was for certain. Probably partly due to West playing with his freaking toes and partly due to Mal practically tossing roses at Ricki’s feet, but whatever.
They’d come full circle and now the crowd was jumping and stomping, completely with them. Fists pumping, shouts at the ready. No more tears.
Those would be for later.
They moved through the few other songs in their set and brought the house down with the final notes of “Undermine”. Molly pretended to wave goodnight and Luc yanked off his tank to pitch it into the crowd. As the heavy curtain pulled shut to the sounds of dismay from the audience, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
Or maybe that was just Mal.
One step left. The biggest of all. But now he got one fucking minute to just inhale and exhale and guzzle some water.
Oh, and kiss his woman, who ran for him the instant she handed off her Les Paul. Ricki quickly jumped on his riser and landed right on his lap, her squeal of joy untwisting something in his chest he hadn’t realized was knotted.
For her. She was the beginning of his day and the end, and all the minutes in between. They were all hers.
He wound his arms around her and dragged her mouth to his. “You did it,” he said hoarsely when they finally broke apart long enough to breathe. “You were incredible.”
Then they dove right in again for round two.
They were still wrapped up in each other when husky laughter rang out a few feet away from them, accompanied by the sharp click of heels. “Some things never change.” Jules patted her enormous belly, partially disguised by the free-flowing black top she wore over the briefest of miniskirts. “Unlike my belly, which expands by the minute.”
“Juliet!” Ricki squirmed off his lap and went over to join the others as they all converged on Jules at once, talking excitedly. Hugs right and left.
Mal hung back, because he wasn’t much of a hugger. And because he’d seen all too well how Jules’s eyes had narrowed on him and Ricki before she’d smiled and made it seem as if everything was okay.
It wasn’t.
Maybe it never would be again.
Ricki hadn’t seen Jules’s first unguarded expression, and Mal was glad for it. He didn’t want her to have to carry that with her as she already carried so much else. One more brick of guilt might just be enough to topple her.
Even as Mal reached for another bottle of water, he heard Jules’s voice in his head the night Randy died. When they’d all been in the waiting room, hoping for good news. Praying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
Knowing it was so much worse.
She’d walked up to Mal and said exactly what he’d already been thinking. Probably they all had been thinking it.
“You saved her. Why couldn’t you have saved him too?”
Water splashed Mal’s lap and he jumped, belatedly realizing he’d opened the water bottle and squeezed it all over his damn groin.
Unaffected, yeah, that was him, all right.
He chugged the rest and pitched the bottle as Nick reappeared, pulling a guitar strap over his head while he finished up a hushed conversation with Lila. Lila seemed to do a doubletake at the sight of Jules and joined the others clustered around her, leaving Nick to look around blearily and finally settle on Mal.
Mal wasn’t sure which of them was less enthused. Neck and neck probably.
They weren’t enemies, but he wouldn’t call them friends either. More like uneasy acquaintances who were months away from being family twice over.
“Hey,” Nick said.
Mal jerked a shoulder.
“She was amazing.”
Mal grunted. That he could agree with. “Yeah.”
Lauren picked that moment to emerge backstage as well, and she rushed over to Jules with a war whoop. More hugs were passed around and then they scattered to their respective places as the audience got their wish and the curtain rose one more time.
Nick was now at Ricki’s side, and Michael had moved over to stand with Ryan. Lauren had joined West at the piano in a reprise of their very first concert together, when West had dragged her onstage to play with him.
Mal smirked. Well, to play the keys. Later, they’d done more playing than that, since that was more than a year ago now and those two rocked their bus bunk on the regular.
Molly and Luc were up by their microphones, and they stepped to opposite sides as Jules emerged from the back to thunderous applause. She sashayed up to the front as she always did, somehow just as slinky and graceful at nearly nine months pregnant as she’d been before. Hands raised to the crowd, she let out a delighted laugh and pretended to semi-bow, which made everyone laugh.
“Miss me?” she asked coyly, and the crowd screamed their agreement.
She cupped her hands over her mouth in surprised pleasure, and then turned to give Molly a surprisingly long hug. Then she moved back to pick up the tambourine that had been left for her on Mal’s riser, shaking it with a light laugh that would’ve convinced the devil himself she didn’t have a care in the world.
Mal knew better. They all knew.
“You got us back out here for one more song. Just one more,” Molly said over their shouts of dismay. “Think you might know this one. Another song we’ve never played live before right this very minute. We felt it’s the perfect one for us, now that we have our Juliet back, on the tambourine tonight instead of the bass.”
Jules waved the tambourine again. “Is this thing on?” she called out to more laughter.
“And we have two more links of our chain here tonight. One’s not part of the band itself, but important nonetheless. Give it up for Lauren Bryant, who some of you might remember once accompanied Mr. Reynolds back there on ‘Bennie and the Jets’.”
Lauren stood
up from the piano bench and raised her hands above her head like a prizefighter, dragging her belly shirt up to just about nipple height. West immediately yanked it down, making the audience chuckle. “Hey, you get to be topless.” Lauren pouted, leaning into the microphone. “Seems only fair that girls should get to be half naked too. Am I right?”
The women in attendance and a hefty dose of the men catcalled their approval of that idea.
“No one’s getting arrested.” Molly grinned and tossed back her miles of honey-colored hair. “At least not yet.”
More laughter.
“We have one more person to introduce, and I’m pretty sure most of you are familiar with him. Any of you know Nick Crandall from Oblivion?”
The crowd yelled and cheered and Nick waved, looking as if he’d swallowed his tongue sideways.
Mal had to chuckle. That dude was about as comfortable with fan attention as he was himself, unless he was on his instrument. Then he went into another space, where performing was as natural as dragging air into his lungs.
“You might know he’s our Elle’s brother, and we thought it would be great if he could sit in with us on this important song. We’re going to need your help though to get through ‘The Chain’. Sing along where you can, okay?”
When the audience didn’t respond to Molly’s liking, Luc rolled forward on the balls of his feet and put a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you.”
They pumped their fists and screamed in the affirmative as Molly smiled and pointed at Ricki and Nick.
They were ready, their blond heads dipping as they strummed the familiar strains of the Fleetwood Mac hit. Ricki turned her head to smile at her brother, and then she glanced over her shoulder for a second. Her eyes locked with Mal’s and her smile grew until his chest felt too fucking tight. Her absolute glee in getting through the show—in nailing it—was contagious. As was the entire band’s palpable relief that they could still do this.
No matter how hard it was, they still had it. Together.
He slammed the skins that much harder, tossing back his head to stare up at the kaleidoscope of lights skipping over the stage. He followed the beat without conscious thought. It was inside him, pulsing like a vein. Throbbing through him so that he had no choice but to rise up off his stool to get closer. Play harder. Sweat dripped down his temples, wound its way between his shoulder blades. His muscles ached and shook with every drum strike.
But stopping wasn’t an option. Not until they brought this show all the way home.
Nick and Ricki grinned as they added the flare to their licks that made each of them unique. Somehow their differences complemented more than conflicted. They went back to back, mirroring each other in one of their weird perfectly coordinated twin things. Kinda creepy yet strangely cool at the same time.
Molly and Luc’s voices wound together, belting out the iconic lyrics, and the guitars shrieked in perfect harmony while West and Lo jammed out on the keys. Michael and Ryan were laughing as they tried to best each other, one on guitar, one on bass. Mal hit the drums with enough force that his sticks nearly snapped.
Perfect fucking sync, all the way down the line.
Ricki seemed to falter at one point, near the final notes. A minor mistake. So minor Mal was nearly certain he’d imagined it.
Maybe.
At the end, they all lined up for their bows to the crowd’s endless applause. Feeling uncharacteristically generous, Mal flicked one of his backup sticks into the audience. Excited screams pelted his eardrums as he decided to do the same with the second stick while West tossed out his new hair accessory on the other side of the stage.
The band and their temporary members linked hands and raised them above their heads as they bent, both to show their appreciation and to catch their damn breaths.
That show had been no joke.
The curtain came down and war whoops exploded backstage. West lifted Lo into his arms, spinning her around as she laughed. Denver jogged out to give Ryan a big hug, and Chloe appeared from the shadows to embrace Michael. Their reunion was much quieter. Much less jubilant.
Sometimes the only happiness you could grab was making it through.
“I guess you two are doing okay.”
Mal’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over his shoulder at Jules. He hadn’t heard her move closer, which was surprising since her heels were noisy.
Then again, he’d been focused on finding Ricki. He hadn’t seen her for a couple of minutes. Maybe she’d gone off with Denver and Ryan, though usually, she checked in before she split. There was some party thing, and she could’ve been swept away. Who knows.
Not like she’d vanish into thin air.
Three
Mama.
Only one clear word echoed in her head. Just mama over and over again.
A flash of blond hair in a short style. A familiar smile, with those eye crinkles Elle would never forget. Even the pink sweater she’d glimpsed before the crowd had swallowed the woman whole had fit.
Her mother had loved pink. Pink everything. Pink bedsheets, pink clothes, pink ribbons for her only daughter’s hair. Hell, once when they were in first grade, she’d even gotten Nicky a pink shirt, which he’d promptly hidden at the bottom of his dresser drawer. Even then, he’d only liked neutrals.
But Elle would’ve worn pink no matter what. Because her mama loved it, and she loved her mama.
And now she was back.
Maybe she was back.
It was crazy. Improbable. She had to be seeing things. But if there was the slightest chance…
The second the curtain came down, Elle booked down the side steps and ran into the audience.
Nicky called after her, and she called back some excuse about the bathroom. Right. He’d really believe that one. Lame. But she couldn’t tell him the truth.
Couldn’t tell anyone, not even Mal. Not until she knew for sure.
She could hear him now.
You think you saw your mother. Here, rocking out at the Blue Rhino. After all these years with no contact. No anything.
Only in much fewer words and with some furrowed brow action to let her know he thought she was one cookie short of a stack. Not that he’d say it. No, he never would.
He’d believed her when she said she’d seen Snake on the monitor at the show all those months ago and then again at the hair salon. Hadn’t even debated that she might be mistaken. But somehow it was easier to fathom a man rising from the supposed dead than to imagine her mother could be back after all this time.
Elle swallowed hard. She’d been seven, for God’s sake, when her mother had left a note and simply hadn’t come home. Two decades ago. A lifetime.
Her mother could be dead. Or she might have amnesia and not even remember she had babies.
Not babies any longer, Elle chided herself as she moved through the thick throng of people heading for the exits. All the while, scanning every face she saw, every back of a head, as if it was her damn job.
She and Nicky were adults. Nicky had his own babies now, and he was happily married. And she was almost happily married too.
God, she deserved to be happy. To be with Mal, who would be looking for her soon.
If he wasn’t already.
And what was she doing? Pushing through the audience, pretending she didn’t feel the tugs on her clothing or the more than occasional dumbfounded look she got as she made her way through.
Fuck. She should’ve grabbed her hoodie from the back first, but she hadn’t wanted to waste time. But there were other options.
She moved into an alcove, darting into the shadows long enough to yank off her T-shirt and wrap it around her hair so that it was almost fully contained. Then she glanced down at her ivory cami, thankful she’d worn the lacy lingerie rather than the pushup bra she usually went with for the stage. But she’d hoped maybe she and Mal could sneak off for a quickie, which explained the skirt she had on rather than her usual skinny jeans.
So much for a quickie. Instead,
she was doing a reconnaissance mission for the most insane reason.
Still the poor little mama’s girl you always were, aren’t you, Ellie? Never will grow up.
She blended back into the audience streaming out the exits, feeling a measure of comfort that at least it would take a doubletake or two for her to be recognized. She hadn’t changed her look much, but all that frigging blond hair was hard to miss.
Mal’s favorite. He loved her hair.
He loves you. If you don’t screw this up by chasing ghosts.
She burst through the double doors that led to the parking lot and inhaled a giant gulp of muggy air, then pressed her way forward to the railing that surrounded the small stoop. So many people were heading to their cars. She couldn’t make out faces in the dark, at least when they moved past the lights that ringed the lot. Some were heading out to the secondary lot across the street, all laughing and having a great time.
Awesome show, she heard more times than she could count. And every time, her gut twisted a little harder until she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep down the warm soft pretzel she and Mal had shared before the show.
Neither of them had wanted to eat much. There had been too much on the line.
Just as there was right now.
Elle glimpsed that flash of blond again, just a hint of it as a woman ducked into a car. Stupid. Could be a random blond.
God, she had to know.
She shoved people aside, calling out apologies, gripping the railing as she stumbled down the steps in her wickedly high boots. Cute for the stage, hell to run in. But she made do, skirting fans and darting around cars. Ignoring the honking horns as people tried to pull out and couldn’t because she was frantically running between the rows of vehicles to get to the sedan in back.
She reached it just as the taillights popped on. She let out a shriek, running around to the driver’s door to pound on the glass like a crazy person.
