The Music Demon - Victoria Danann Page 0,99

must be perfect.

“Whoa. Really?”

“You don’t want me to be pleased?”

“Oh. I do. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Expected objections.”

She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. When a thing is right, it’s right. Did you pass out the tickets to the festival?”

“Yeah. The guys are all, ah, giddy.”

“I think you’re lying. But if you’re not, I’d like to see that. I’m pretty sure your bass player has never cracked a smile in his life.”

“Well, he’s serious.”

“You being defensive about your bandmates is a good sign. Getting along is good for music. Camaraderie. Esprit de corps.” She waved her hand as if to say et al. “And I’ve got other breaking news,” she said.

“Hit me.”

“I think you should sit down.”

Doo looked at the velvet chairs wondering what sort of breaking news required being seated. “You’re not, ah…”

Her quizzical look cleared quickly. “Oh. No. Not that. Good news!”

“I mean I’m not saying the other thing wouldn’t be good news. It’s just…” He trailed off.

“I know what you mean.” She looked pointedly at the chair.

He flopped down and threw a leg over one of the arms.

“You know Roundabout is playing the festival.”

“Yeah?” He shrugged as if to say that was common knowledge.

“And you like them.”

“What is this? You know I like them.”

“So much so that you know all their songs.”

“I don’t know about all. Most. I guess. Where’s this going?”

“Jeffie Betts. Their lead guitar? He’s got chicken pox.”

“No way. That’s a tough break. They’re gonna miss their chance to play this festival.”

“No, they’re not.”

“What do you mean?”

She jumped to her feet and squealed. “Because you are standing in for him.”

It seemed to Doo that time stood still. He knew he was frozen, but somehow he wasn’t processing that the way he knew he should.

He, Dougray Darby, from Wimberley, Texas, decades in the future, was going to play the Monterey festival? Of 1967? His first thought was, if only Cass…

Then his eyes jerked to the beautiful redhead jumping up and down.

She did know. She’d done her part to drag him back to the past so they could make a perfect future together.

Seeing no visible reaction, her smile was beginning to fade.

He was on his feet in an instant, intent in putting that smile back on her perfect freckled face. He locked her in a bear hug and spun around while she giggled and launched objections in more colorful language than he’d ever heard from her.

“Put me down, caveman. You’re making me dizzy.”

He put her down, but shut her mouth with a dizzying kiss. “You sure they want me?”

“They’re taking my word that there’s nobody better.”

He grinned. What guy doesn’t want to hear that? “Let’s go upstairs and celebrate.”

Something about the idea of performing on that stage was making him horny as hell.

“I’m making phone calls. And you’re busy making sure you know the songs on the set list. Or you should be.”

“You have the set list?”

“Yes. Right here.” She reached for a pad on the desk.

He grabbed it, scanned it, put it back, and began backing her toward the stairway to heaven. “It can wait. First, us. You and me. Then Roundabout.”

Coming to a full stop, she said, “Compromise. First you call them and tell them yes, you’re their boy. Then we’ll see about that celebration.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Deal.” He reached to his pants pocket. “Who am I talkin’ to? And do you have a number?”

“Miles Raddish. And, yes, Doo. I have a number.” She deadpanned. “That’s how I made the connection for you.” Ignoring her playful barb, he was patting all his pockets; pants and vest. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for my…” He froze, at the brink of making the very kind of mistake Lyric had warned about. Over and over again. Doo counted it a blessing that he’d stopped himself just short of saying the word ‘phone’ or she would have been sure he was certifiable. “Looking for my gum. Don’t wanna sound nervous when I talk to them.”

“Oh.” She looked toward the bordello room. “I think I have some in a desk drawer. Spearmint okay?”

He smiled partly because of her nurturing nature and partly from the relief of having narrowly dodged an acutely awkward incident. If he caused her to doubt his sanity, it would jeopardize everything.

Silently vowing to be more careful, he said, “Perfect.”

Two days later Doo and Cass were headed to Monterey at the same time Lyric was sharing the news with Shivaun that Doo was playing his first big ‘recital’, as she’d called it.

The idea of Lyric’s protégé making good was an

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