Page 77 of Hard Rock Muse

But now we were back together. I could see the millions of questions in Frank’s eyes.

“I followed your careers for a bit,” Frank said. “Both of you. Whatever happened to that asshole, Keith Fielding?”

I started. I hadn’t expected Frank to bring him up. Maybe I should have. Frank had never much liked the guy either. From the few times the two had been in the same room, I always had a feeling Frank suspected the kind of manipulative bullshit Keith had pulled. He’d never said anything to me, though, aside from the occasional kind, and out of character, words, letting me know he’d always be there for me if I ever needed anything.

I’d never taken him up on it. Maybe I should have.

“Keith’s not in the picture anymore,” I told Frank.

“Good,” he said. “Never liked that asshole. Never liked the way he treated you.”

“Frank…” I said, getting uncomfortable. I didn’t want to get into it with Julian right there.

“What do you mean?” Julian asked.

I cursed inwardly and shot Frank a pleading look. He pressed his lips together.

“Just the usual,” Frank said, sounding sour. “Acting all high and mighty, like he knew everything, like he was better than all of us.”

I let out a silent relieved sigh that Frank hadn’t said anything worse. Despite what his suspicions might have been, Frank had never actually seen the worst of Keith’s behavior.

I was sure if he had, he wouldn’t have hesitated to curse the bastard to hell and back, at best.

“Hm,” was all Julian said in response.

“So does this mean the old band is getting back together?” Frank asked, changing the conversation.

“No,” I said. “I’m just working with Julian on his Cherry Lips album.”

“Shame,” Frank said. “You guys were really going somewhere. Coulda been up there with the greats, I always said.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

A sad pang went through my chest. I’d always thought the same. I’d believed it with every bone in my body. Then everything had fallen apart. And now Julian had Cherry Lips. And I had…

Nothing. Not really. A short term gig co-writing one song wasn’t a career.

Not for the first time, I regretted the day I’d ever met Keith Fielding. That man had ruined more than I’d ever realized.

Would I ever be able to get back everything I’d lost?