Page 23 of Hard Rock Deceit

Sympathy.

Pulling out my own phone, I typed a quick note in a moodtrackerapp.

I wasn't sure if August was right. Keeping track of my thoughts and feelings and emotions had quickly become tedious, but I'd agreedtotry.

I snapped a few photos of Ian. I didn't know if I'd keep them. It was such a private moment, with him looking so open,unguarded.

After a dozen photos, I turned my camera from the guitarist, looking for the other bandmembers.

Damon was running his fingers up and down the wall, the way people teased their friends that a spider was crawling on them. He reached over his head then went back down, lowering into acrouch.

"Can I ask what you'redoing?"

"Finger exercises." He craned his head sideways to talk to me, but didn't stop the finger crawling. "Gotta keep my fingers nimble." He flashed a wicked gin and used two fingers to make a come-hither motion. I was confused for a moment. That wasn't how you played guitar. Then it sunk in what he was mimicking. I flushed and cleared mythroat.

"It looks like you're playing Spider-Man trying to climb upthewall."

"Sorry, I don't have any superpowers."

"Your fans would disagree. They think you're some kind of rock and rollguitargod."

"Do they?" His voice was sly. "And what do youthink?"

"I guessyou'regood."

He winced. "Damn, Cam was right. You are just likeAugust."

I frowned, not knowing if that was a complimentornot.

"Howso?"

"Faint praise," he said. "It must take a lot toimpressyou."

"Is Augustlikethat?"

"Oh, yeah. It took us a while to translate August-speak into human-speak.Not terriblemeans you're doing fine.Acceptablemeansawesome."

"What doesgoodmean?"

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Did you get agoodfrom him?" He whistled. "Damn, you really must be somethingspecial."

"I'm not at the level August wants me to be.Notyet."

"Don't kill yourself trying toimpresshim."

"How did youdoit?"

"Impress August, you mean?" Damon shrugged. "No clue. He walked past me and my brother playing guitar on a street corner one day. I remember he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk so abruptly people rammed into him. He said we had somethingspecial."

"Passion."

Damon eyed me curiously, no hint of his previous flirting. "Yeah. Exactly. Is that what he saidaboutyou?"

I felt uncomfortable at the turn in our conversation. I didn't want to tell him what August and I had talked about. I was positive the kind of passion Damon spoke of was different from the kind of passion August meant when it cametome.

I held up my camera in bothhands.

"Do you mind if I take some photos of you doing that handthing?"