Page 113 of The Music Demon

“Uh-oh.”

“No. Listen.” He turned toward her. There wasn’t much light, but his eyes had adjusted to the dark so that he could trace the outlines of her features. “You’re here all the time.”

“Too much?”

“Will you just shut up? I’m trying to ask if you want to move over here.”

“Over here?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean move in with you?”

“Never mind. I never realized how dense you are until now.”

He laughed. “Come on. I’m not dense. I’m surprised. But the answer is hell yeah, I want to move over here. And not just for free rent either.” She slapped at him playfully. “Should I go get my stuff right now?”

“What if I said yes?”

“I’d beg you to say we’re goin’ to sleep.”

“Doo. Go to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a voice steeped in contentment.

After a minute or so, she said to the dark ceiling, “It was so weird. The first time I saw you. I felt like I already knew you. I just somehow knew that you were going to sound like you sound and play like you play and be who you are.”

When Doo didn’t respond, Cass assumed he was asleep.

He wasn’t.

His eyes remained closed while he tried to regulate his breathing to mimic sleep. He was afraid that any answer might lead to the revelation of secrets best kept to himself.

She sighed then turned toward him and snuggled into his side. Her hair was close enough to smell the girly shampoo. He loved that smell.

When she woke the next morning he was gone, but he’d left the yellow pad with all their notes on his pillow with a note. Three names were circled in red pen. Drummer. Bass. Rhythm guitar. The same three she’d recommended.

“So,” she said to herself. “He’s not just gorgeous, sweet, fun, a natural-born star, and probably the love of my life. He’s smart, too.”

She picked up the note and read.Gone to get my stuff. Will bring kolaches.

Smiling, she continued her talk with the walls. “And considerate, too.”

Pulling on jeans and a silk bathrobe, she padded downstairs.

“Hey, Cass,” somebody said.

She held up her hand. “Not until after coffee. You know the rules.”

She took coffee upstairs so that she could do something about her hair and morning breath.

It was a big day.

Doo was moving in. They’d be forming a band, looking for practice space, and getting down to the work of writing songs that move people. She was living her ideal life, too caught up in the excitement to give any thought to the other side of thirty.

When Doo heard Lyric’s signature knock, he rushed to the door.

One look at the kid’s high beam smile had Lyric asking, “What’s happened?”