The Music Demon - Victoria Danann Page 0,82

sixth sense?”

She blew out a breath, but was inclined to let him off the grill because his boyish smile lit up every bell and whistle like a Star Trek set. “That’s more than a little. If you’re right, it’s spooky in the realest sense of the word.”

“The point is they are done openin’ for The Dead and Young Rascals.” As he was stowing the envelope back in an interior pocket of the vest, his hand paused for a millisecond. “Hey. You know. I’m, ah, new in town.” He chuckled at himself. “I’m new to this whole world. And I don’t know anybody.”

“What about Slick?”

“Oh,” Doo grinned. “I know who he is. Of course. But if you asked him my name, he would not remember it.”

“Did he really send you here? To find me?”

“Yeah.” Doo nodded. “He really did. We had this extremely intense relationship that lasted for three blocks between Page and Grove. He told me the meanin’ of life and secret to happiness.”

She laughed. “He did? What is it?”

“You.” His grin settled into a smile, but his eyes laughed in a way that said it wasn’t entirely teasing. “He didn’t say it exactly, but he pointed me toward a matchmaker who could make all my dreams come true.”

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who should be named Slick. What were you saying about not knowing anybody?”

“Oh. Yeah. I, ah, have a second ticket.” He patted his vest. “You interested?”

That question felt like every kind of awkward. He supposed other men got over nerves about approaching women when they were still adolescents. Doo had never asked a girl out in his life. Girls had always been close by, plentiful, and bold enough to do the asking so that all he’d ever had to do was say yes or make up excuses.

He felt the tension building in his body as he waited for her answer. He wondered if her mind was busy trying to come up with a let-down-easy line, like he’d so often done. Something that would make the initiating party feel okay about being turned down, less like a loser.

“I mean, if you’re, ah, not with somebody?” He’d been so captivated, he’d never thought to check her hand for a ring. She was wearing a big silver ring with an oval opal, or something like it. He didn’t think it was an engagement ring or wedding band, but it was hard to know for sure with free spirits.

It felt like she’d stared at Doo for an hour before finally saying, “Yeah. I’ll go.”

“Good. It’ll be… a gas.” Doo gave himself an internal kudo for practicing the speech of the era.

“It will. We can go backstage after if you want. I know the guys.”

Doo’s eyes widened like he was a six-year-old promised a day at the beach. “No. Way.” She laughed. “This is gonna be the best day of my entire life.”

Raising her chin, Cass regarded him with open inquisitiveness. “I don’t know where your peak will be, Doo Darby. But it’s definitely not today. Got a feeling there’s a lot more to come for you.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna help me find a band?”

“I just said yes to a date, not a career in music. That requires an audition.”

“Cool.” Doo shrugged as his eyes drifted over the guitars on the wall again. “What do you want to hear?”

With a chuckle, she said, “You’re ready, huh?”

“I’m always ready.” He wiggled his eyebrows and immediately regretted it for two reasons. First, because he was afraid it would make him seem like a douche. Second, because he wasn’t sure wiggling eyebrows was a thing in 1967.

“We’ll see about that,” she said, taking the innuendo in stride. “Somebody pulled an amp out back this morning. We don’t get days like this all the time. We can go out there. Switch it on.”

She was half interested in finding out if there was anything to work with and half interested in seeing his reaction to the prospect of auditioning in front of other musicians. He didn’t flinch or hesitate or reveal the tiniest sign of anxiety. That was a good start.

“Grab one of these,” she gestured toward the guitars on the wall. “Any one you want. But if you’re not what I’m looking for musically,” she was careful to add that last word, “I’m not giving back the ticket.”

“You don’t have the ticket,” he replied.

“I have numbers on my side, enough people in the house to hold you down.”

“Either you really

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