I slide around to the other side and set my hand on the case. “I had a whole scenario in mind where I meet you at the door wearing nothing but stockings and heels while standing behind the case.”
“Want me to leave and come back?”
“No, open it.”
He unsnaps the locks and slowly lifts the lid, revealing the shiny Gibson inside. “Oh fuck me.” He brings his fist to his mouth, biting down on his index finger. A gesture I’ve only witnessed him do once or twice. “Mallory, you didn’t.”
I step closer, resting my hand on his arm. “I’m so proud of you. I wanted you to have it to play the Shooting Fences shows.”
“Even if Julius gave you the greatest deal in the world, this cost a fortune. I can’t accept this from you.”
“Why not?”
He opens his arms wide and turns in a half-circle. “Look where I have you living. If I had this kind of money, you’d be in an apartment worthy of you.”
“As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we live. It’s good for you to be close to the guys, so you can play whenever inspiration strikes.” I stare down at the guitar between us. “I want you to understand how much I love you and believe in you every time you play it. It’s my gift to you, and you’ll hurt my feelings if you reject it.”
“Mallory.” He groans. “Where did you get the money for it?” A note of dread colors his question. Chaser’s too smart not to sense the answer.
“Do you really want to know?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. The corners of his mouth twitch. “I knew you hung onto more of your father’s money than you let on.”
I shrug. “Not my fault they can’t count.”
“What about your father? You think he won’t know how much he’s really missing?”
That had occurred to me, but if he hasn’t said anything by now, I figure he won’t. I shrug.
“Sneaky girl.”
“I have been naughty, haven’t I?”
“Very.”
The heat in Chaser’s eyes says I don’t have long to express why buying him the guitar was so important.
“To me, this is an investment in our future.” I reach down and caress the wood body. “I’ve had ‘Queen of the Road’ in my head since you guys were playing it the other day.”
Chaser reverently pulls it out and gives the strings an experimental strum. “Yeah?”
“Maybe this will help you finish it.”
He leans down and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Promise me you’ll keep it.”
“Till the day I die, little dove.”
The serious sentiment sends a crackle of pain through my heart.
His brow wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m pretty sure,” I bite my lip, afraid to even say the words, “if you die, I won’t be far behind.”
Chapter Fifteen
Mallory
As the Shooting Fences shows draw closer, Chaser’s been asking me to join them at rehearsal more often.
“Are you sure I’m allowed to visit the rehearsal space again?” I ask for probably the tenth time this morning.
So far, the guys haven’t seemed to mind, but I figure they’ll only tolerate my presence for so long.
“Fuck yeah. I’m more inspired when you’re there.”
Just when I think the man can’t make me swoon any harder.
“Are you sure you won’t be too bored?” he asks.
“Nope.” Today, I have a script in my bag to keep me busy.
Although, once the guys get into their session, it’s almost impossible to tear myself away from watching them and concentrate on anything else.
“You’re bringing it?” I nod to the Gibson case, excited Chaser’s finally going to use the guitar I gave him. He’s only played it at home. Almost as if it’s a newborn he’s worried to introduce to the big, bad world.
“Yeah, I thought it might help.” He kisses my cheek. “Come on, Alvin’s waiting downstairs.”
I end up in the back seat wedged between the drums and guitar case, praying no one clips the little car on the way there.
Garrett’s car is parked by the entrance of the squatty square building, and we find him alone inside the room reserved for Kickstart’s practice sessions.
“Jacob isn’t here? What the fuck?” Chaser growls, setting his guitar case down. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste.”
Garrett lifts his head and rubs his hand over his throat. “He’s trying to rest his vocal cords. I’m not sure he’ll be here at all today. He’s shitting bricks that he’s gonna blow ‘em out before the shows.”
“Fuck.”
Is that possible? Although I’ve witnessed some of the lengthy vocal warm-ups he performs before a show, I’ve never given Jacob’s contribution a lot of thought. It makes sense, though. His voice is an instrument that needs to be cared for like everyone else’s. Maybe more so since he can’t swap out or buy new vocal cords.