Fast Lane - Kristen Ashley Page 0,91

you gave me. I won’t ever forget it.”

And then, he left me standing there in the sand, right above where the waves rolled up the beach.

And he walked away from me.

Then he disappeared.

For everybody.

Interviewer’s Impressions, Recorded After Event:

The dim of the bar is difficult to adjust to after the blinding sun from outside.

It takes a moment.

Only when that happens, the interior is noted.

It is rough. No frills.

And obviously, the business is struggling.

It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, but there is not a soul in the place except the barkeep.

The bartender beckons. His invitation is obliged.

A drink is ordered and served.

It’s half gone before a presence is sensed, which is surprising, as the door to the outside did not open.

At a glance to the side and up, I look into brown eyes that are in a rugged, exceptionally handsome face.

“Hey,” a deep voice with a characteristic lilt says, and a big hand is offered. “I’m Preacher McCade.”

Jesse:

So, yeah.

Somehow, and I don’t know how, I mean, it’s a miracle.

It’s 2001.

And we survived Y2K.

[Bursts out laughing]

At this point, Timmy and me might pitch up and step into a Second Coming gig or sit in with Shawn when he’s out doin’ shows, one, the other of us, or sometimes both.

But there’s dick from the Roadmasters because Preacher is still AWOL.

[Throws up both hands]

Dust in the goddamned wind.

The phone rings.

I answer.

It’s Shawn.

“Listen, brother,” he says. “Got a friend who had a friend who has a kid who got into trouble that was not his trouble and this group helped him out. Got him clear a’ that shit. They do a lot of good work like that and they could do a lot more if they had more money.”

So, I say, “Tell me where to send the check.”

“No, Jess,” he replies. “Want your ass here for a charity gig. Start with me, we bring on the Second Coming and end with a Roadmasters reunion. It’ll make a shitload of bread.”

“It would, if it wasn’t akin to the literal second coming,” I say. [chuckles] “Can’t do a Roadmasters reunion without Preach.”

And then, get this, I mean…

Shit.

He says, “Did I say we didn’t have Preacher?”

[Hoots]

Swear to fuck, I near-on had a heart attack.

I’m all “Why didn’t you lead with that, motherfucker?”

And DuShawn’s all “This way was more fun.”

[Shakes head, grinning]

Fuckin’ Shawn.

So, he tells me Preach is gonna be in touch, and kid you not, I barely hang up and call out to the woman I’m livin’ with at the time to tell her what’s goin’ down when the phone rings again.

I answer.

And hear, “Hey, brother.”

[Suddenly stiffens, neck going long, sniffing]

Okay, well…

[Sniffs again]

All right.

I think you get I am beside myself.

I have not heard from this man in six years.

I got two baby sisters, and an older brother.

And he’s been gone for nearly six fuckin’ years. I have no clue where he is. I don’t know if he’s all right. I’m worried as fuck about him seein’ as he vanished when shit was extreme.

And to hide how relieved I am, how fuckin’ insanely good it is to hear his voice again, of course, I give him shit.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I ask.

“Jess—” he starts.

“No, seriously, asshole. I’ve been worried sick. Mom has been worried sick. Penny. Lana. Tim. Dave. Tom. Danny. Loretta. Need I go on?”

And, I’m sure you can guess, and he could too, I mean Lyla, even though I do not know if Lyla is worried about him because she is still totally tight with the band, but on the phone or if we’re together, no one ever mentions him.

He’s the Cajun elephant in the room, serious as shit.

But I figure she is.

Worried about Preacher, that is.

And get this.

He replies, “I had to take a breath.”

So, I’m all [loudly] “A six-year breath?”

“You needed me to take a breath too, Jesse,” he tells me.

[Eyes get large]

Say what?

He knows what I need?

Fuck.

[Shakes head]

Needless to say, six years, I forgot how fuckin’ aggravating Preacher could be.

“Thanks for tellin’ me what I need, asshole,” I say to him.

“Jess, chill out, brother,” he says back.

I remember that.

I do.

Him telling me to chill out.

[Rolls eyes to the ceiling]

Fuck.

Then he says, “I hope you’ve been writing songs that you haven’t sold seein’ as this charity gig is the perfect opportunity to relaunch with an album then hit the road on a tour.”

Yes.

He says just that.

Still planning world domination, our Preacher.

I’m all “Dude, are you kidding me right now?”

He’s all “No.”

I’m all “Hello? Maybe you wanna tell me where you were for over