Page 77 of Dark Breaker

“You should call yourself the gangster rockstar,” she tells me.

I laugh at that. My throat still hurts a little, but not too bad. “You don’t understand how painful that was.”

“Art is pain,” she agrees. “Do you know what the song is about?”

“No idea,” I admit. “I just memorized the words.”

She giggles. “You really don’t know?Really?”

“Nope,” I tell her. “I really don’t. I memorized the words and the chords. And improvised half of them back there, because it’s been a while.”

She shakes her head. “Incredible. I had no idea. Though I suppose when you were singing about camels humping in the forest, I should’ve gotten the hint that you kind of were making things up as you went along. It was still beautiful, though. Better than anything I could play. Those chords looked complicated as hell.”

“You’re wrong,” I tell her. “They’re not. Grab your guitar.”

She fetches it, and sits down beside me on one of the stools next to the countertop.

For the next fifteen minutes I proceed to teach her the different chords that are played at the beginning of the song, and by the time we’re done she can play a pretty good rendition of the first few bars.

We do a duet of sorts then, to the music, and when she fucks it up at the end, she sits back and giggles. “Wow. I really suck.”

“You certainly do,” I deadpan, the memory of her sucking my cock earlier still fresh in my mind.

Her cheeks fill with heat at that, and I grin. I kind of want her to suck my cock again right now…

“Here,” she sys. “I’ll show you some bars of Asturias.”

She teaches me a few chords, and soon we’re playing another duet.

When we’re done, she’s beaming. “I love that we can bond over a shared interest like this.”

“So do I,” I tell her, and mean it.

She smiles sadly, then looks away.

I grab her cheek and force her to look into my eyes. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she tells me.

“No, come on,” I insist. “What’s on your mind?”

She blinks. “Well, I was just thinking, it’s too bad you’ll never love me.”

I release her and look away.

“I love fucking you,” I try.

“That’s not the same,” she says.

“No, I suppose not,” I tell her. “But does it really matter? We have our ups and downs, but we get along, for the most part. That’s all you can really ask for in any marriage. That, and cooperation.”

“By which you mean, me doing whatever you say, right?” she asks.

I nod, and can’t help the amusement in my tone. “Basically.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “What have I gotten myself into?”

I lift my guitar off my shoulder, sliding off the strap, and rest it on the counter beside me.