Fast Lane - Kristen Ashley Page 0,96

there bein’ a thing with her and the press. She’s got anonymity now, mostly. She doesn’t wanna go back there and she doesn’t want what goin’ back there might do to this guy she’s seein’.”

Preacher just sits there, staring at Shawn, not sayin’ a word.

But he doesn’t have to speak.

The vibe wafting off him tells a whole story.

Shawn reaches out, clamps Preach on the shoulder, and goes on, “Sonia says she’s happy, Preach. She practically begged Vanessa to get me to get you to stand down.”

His voice gets low and he finishes it.

“China says she’s glad you’re back. She’s glad the band is back together. She’s glad we’re makin’ music again. But she just can’t.”

I feel this for Preach.

I really do.

And to be selfish, I feel it for all of us.

You can never go back again.

I know that.

I’m older and smarter, and at that time, closer to findin’ Natalie, so I don’t wanna go back again.

[Smiles sadly]

But I really wanted that for Preacher.

I wanted him to have his girl.

When Preach doesn’t say anything to Shawn, Shawn asks, “You good?”

“I’m alright,” Preach tells him, though we both can tell he’s not.

“You gonna stand down?” I ask, partly hoping he does, mostly hopin’ he’s gonna fight for her.

And he says, “She’s happy.”

And that’s when I know, that’s all he wants for her, and she’s got that.

So…

[Breathes deeply]

Yeah.

We were rusty.

Shawn and Dave are makin’ music, and Timmy and me weren’t entirely away from it, but I cannot sit here and tell you the Roadmasters got back together and it was like we’d never been apart.

It was not.

The thing is, we were not only out of practice as a band, we had to find our new groove.

We had to find out who we were together with all that had come in between.

We had to do somethin’ we knew how to do.

Work hard at it.

[Smiles largely]

And we found it.

[Off tape]

Follow Your Star not only never received any flak about the sugar-sweetness of the title, it went on to achieve overarching critical acclaim. When it was released, it was widely heralded as your best work to that date.

At the time, there was discussion that the generosity in reviews had something to do with all that had been learned about McCade, all that had happened with the trials, his subsequent disappearance, and a relief that he was back and doing what he was so good at doing.

But time has told this was not true.

The album was just exceptional.

And although this, nor any of the following efforts of the Roadmasters achieved the commercial success of The Cycle or even Some Like Yesterday…, it is commonly agreed that Follow Your Star heralded a new era for the Roadmasters that wasn’t solely about your reunion or being in a new millennium.

The depth and poetry of the lyrics, the wisdom and resonance of the music would go on to define the band, not overshadowing what had come before, but instead cementing your place in the industry, in the genre of rock, and declaring that you were an enduring act who could grow together as a band and stand the test of time.

Well…

Yeah.

[Grins]

Of the ten songs on the album, only five of them were written by McCade. There are two by you, one written by Clinton, one by Townes, and one that’s the first genuine songwriting collaboration for the Roadmasters, this between you and McCade.

Unh-hunh.

Even so, from start to finish, it was not lost on anyone that every song was about Lyla.

No.

[Shakes head]

I suspect it was not.

[Grins crookedly]

I was driving home from work when I saw him.

Parked in front of my condo, a big truck.

And leaning against the grill…

Preacher.

My heartrate spiked and my fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

And after I got over the shock (and, okay, thrill) of seeing him again, all that was in my head was that I didn’t think he’d do this.

I really didn’t.

I’d told Shawn no.

And I was torn between fury that he did and relief at seeing him standing there, looking healthy…

And alive.

But as I drove closer, I hated that I liked the longer beard with the shorter hair.

I hated how much I liked how his jeans bunched around his crotch with the way his legs were crossed at the ankles.

I also hated how sinewy his forearms were, crossed on his chest.

And I hated that it was one hundred and ten degrees outside, and he could lean against a truck in jeans, boots and a tee and look like he was hanging out on a breezy,