Page 43 of The Music Demon

Lyric looked back at Gray. “There you have it. Now try to pay attention.”

Gray picked up one of the boots. “Hey. These look just like my boots.”

“I know. I figured you’d be at home in something familiar. They look just like your boots, but if they should ever be examined by somebody who’d know the difference, as unlikely as that is, they’d pass the made-in-the-sixties test.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. Wow. So let’s get down to business. First, your new identity.”

Lyric handed Gray a wallet with a social security card, a Texas driver’s license – since there was no getting away from his drawl – and cash minted prior to 1967.

Gray took out the license and looked at it. His temper and coloring shot to red alert within a millisecond.

“YOU DID NOT NAME ME DARBY O’TOOLE!”

Shivaun looked up from her private mixology workshop. “First. Use your inside voice.” To Lyric, she said, “I just recently learned that. Inside-outside voices.” As she turned back to Gray, she said, “Whatever is the problem? ‘Tis a good solid-soundin’ name. Proud. Maybe a little magical even.”

Gray gaped at Shivaun. “Yeah? Would you like to be named ‘tool’?”

Lyric chuckled. He hadn’t even thought about the modern dis reference. “It’s providential you brought this up because it leads us to what we were going to cover next. The difference between now and 1967. It’s true that ‘tool’ as slang for various undesirable qualities has etymology that’s hundreds of years old, but it hasn’t been widely used in pop culture until fairly recently.”

“Fairly recently?” Gray’s coloring was beginning to settle a little, but he sounded just as indignant. “This is very not cool.”

“It is not uncool.”

With a defiant chin raise, Gray said, “It could be a dealbreaker.”

“I do no’ understand what’s goin’ on here,” Shivaun interjected.

Lyric turned to Shy. “He objects to the fact that his new surname has the word ‘tool’ in it. It’s sometimes used to connote an individual who is foolish, gullible, stupid, or in poor regard by peers.”

After blinking a few times, she said, “Oh. Well, the lad may have a point, demon.”

Gray looked at Lyric. “She calls you demon? Then what is she?”

“She was human until not long ago and still thinks of herself that way.”

With wide eyes, Gray said, “Humans can become demons. That’s not gonna happen to me, is it?”

“No, Darby. It’s not going to happen to you.”

“Don’t call me Darby. We need to renegotiate this name thing.”

“It’s a great name. Darby.”

“Why do you think ‘tis great?” Shivaun asked. “Because you thought of it?”

“Well,” Lyric paused, “yes. That’s certainly a good reason to think it’s great.” Shivaun rolled her eyes. “That’s not all. It’s a musician’s name.”

“How do you figure that?” Gray demanded.

“Seems so to me.” Lyric crossed his arms over his chest like he was digging in to defend his position.

Shy recognized defensive posturing on instinct and decided to step in. “What do you want to be called, Gray?”

“Wait a minute!” Lyric protested.

“Shhhh. Don’t be a tool.”