it,” Tex finished for him. Killian nodded against Tex’s shoulder.
“Rob, Ace, the driver, all gone. According to the coroner, Elliot died of traumatic asphyxiation. I fell asleep for a few minutes, and that’s all it took. The wreck didn’t kill him, Rob did with his bare fucking hands. Then finished the job with the rest of the band by driving us of a cliff. Son-of-a-bitch had enough meth in his system to keep us all partying for a week.”
“And you blame yourself for the whole damned thing.”
“Most of it, anyway.”
“If I told you it wasn’t your fault would you believe me?”
“Probably not.” Killy dabbed at his nose with a tissue. Damn but Tex’s arm felt good around his shoulder.
“Then it’s up to you to convince yourself, but Killy?”
“Yeah?”
“You stood by your brother. You did what you could for him. Never forget that.”
“I shoulda…”
“Shh…” Tex placed a finger over Killy’s lips. “You did all you could do. You’re just a man after all. You loved your brother and took care of him the best you could.”
“I tried. I really tried.”
“Is that why you keep moving? So you’ll never get attached, never settle down, ‘cause then you’ll run the risk of losing someone else?”
How did the man get to be so damned smart? “I got tired of the legal mumbo-jumbo, folks wanting me to sign this and sign that, my manager wanting me to form another band, Rob and Ace’s families filing lawsuits, tying up assets. Everybody and their brother hoped to make a profit off of three good men losing their lives.” Killy scrubbed his hands over his face, day-old stubble rasping against his palms. “Makes me sick to my stomach. When I’d had enough, I hired the best lawyer I could find and got the hell out. Now I keep my head down, don’t live like a rock star, and avoid ATMs and such that might give away where I am. My name doesn’t trigger any red flags with those who know I’m alive, ’cause they’d never expect me to show up on stage in some rundown bar, playing backup for little more than drinks and tips. Last I heard, there were at least four of us billing ourselves as Killian Desmond.”
“I knew it was the real you,” Tex replied. “Hell, sight unseen, I’da known it the second you started playing. Nobody rocks like you do. You play from the heart. And not many lead guitarists that I know of play electro-acoustic. It gives your music a distinct sound.”
Killian took a deep breath and barked out a bitter laugh. “For all the good it does me.”
A smile peeked through Tex’s scruff. “I’ve sung backup for you in the car more times than I can count. Funny, you’re alone, but you and your music kept me from being lonely during the worst times in my life.”
He didn’t say another word, simply held Killian through another bout of sobbing that slowly gentled into weak, sniffling hiccups. Killy fell asleep to a softy sung melody.
Killy switched off the Bronco.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Tex asked from the passenger seat.
A few more cars filled the parking lot—not a crowd, but more than just the band. The night air thudded with a hard bass beat, and neon lights lit the bar’s windows. Another night, another show, then move on. Somehow, after an afternoon with Tex and waking up to a smile and a mound of scrambled eggs and bacon, moving on didn’t sound as good as it had earlier. But to get there, he first had to play his band’s old songs.
Killy huffed out a sigh. “No, I’m not. But what can I do?”
“We could leave now, beat traffic by driving at night.”
We. Not you. For a moment Killian almost said yes. But Tex didn’t mean it; he’d only been trying to make Killy feel better. But why? People didn’t do things for him, they expected him to do for them. And if he hightailed it now, Tex would be the one shining star in a mediocre band. Killy didn’t owe the band shit…but he owed Tex for being there, no matter how short a time.
“It can’t be that bad, can it? A few hours, a few songs.” Killy tried for a smile and failed. Too out of practice. “Reckon we should duct tape the singer’s mouth? Might improve the show.”
A fist pounded on the window. Killy jumped. The keyboard player shouted through the glass. “I’m glad to see you! Kevin’s puking his guts