Page 114 of Not So Goode

The tour was over, and Myles and I were playing house at his sprawling penthouse in Dallas.

It was a big wooden box, delivered by DHL. Postmarked Ketchikan, Alaska.

From River Dog Custom Guitars.

Myles used a claw hammer to open it. Inside was a hard-sided leather guitar case, with Myles’s initials monogrammed into the leather. He opened the case, and sank to his knees, speechless.

Holding the guitar as if it might explode, he cradled it in his hands. I saw him literally in tears.

“Myles?” I crouched beside him. “What is it?”

He traced the whorls in the wood. “This.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Crow. He finished it.”

“Finished what?”

He touched the strings—nylon. “River Dog and Crow were making this guitar together when River Dog died. Crow never finished it.”

“And that’s it? The guitar they were making?”

He nodded, then moved to sit on his butt, cradling the guitar against his chest. He strummed the strings with a thumb, delicately—the sound it made was honey and light with a soaring purity.

“It’s Spanish cedar. River Dog made a guitar and traded it to a tonewood exporter for a batch of this. It’s not just any wood. It was handpicked for the best quality, the best visual appeal and sound.” He strummed it again, and his fingers danced on the strings, picking a flamenco-type melody. “He said it was going to be the best guitar he ever made. He died before they could finish it, just the neck and strings were left. It’s the last pure River Dog guitar there will ever be. All Crow had to do was attach the neck, bridge, strings, all that. The real work of it, River Dog and Crow did together, years and years ago.”

I marveled at the pure sound of it. “It’s incredible.”

“Custom guitars are an art form. What River Dog could do? It was more than art. It was…it was holy. Sacred.” He shook his head, eyes closed, head turned to the side as he listened to a note quaver. “Hear that? The resonance? It sounds like it’s…like it’s resonating clear up to heaven and back to earth.”

“He finished it, and gave it to you,” I said. I stood up, glanced in the case, saw the note—gave it to Myles. “Here.”

He read it out loud. “‘Myles, brother. You firing me was the best thing ever happened to me.’” He cut off, laughing. “Poor bastard can’t spell for shit, though. ‘I’m reopening River Dog’s shop, but it’s going to be a real shop, here in Alaska. That there guitar is the first, and you know damn well which one it is. He wanted you to have it. He told me so himself, day he died.’” His voice shook, broke. “‘I never told you he meant that guitar for you, because I was too scared of failing to try and finish it. Well, I did, and I think it turned out pretty all right. Make some beautiful music on it. Love you, brother. I’ll miss the tour, but not the bus. That thing was a shithole.’”

I laughed, teary-eyed myself. “He’s funny.”

“Pretty all right,” he echoed. “It’s the most beautiful guitar ever made.”

“What’s the P.S.?” I asked.

“‘P.S.: Lexie, your momma and sisters miss you. Charlie ain’t told them shit, but they miss you something awful. Get your ass up here to see them, so they will quit bugging me to call Myles. He knows I don’t talk on the phone.’” He laughed. “He tried calling in a pizza one time, ended up cursing out the pizza guy on the other end and hanging up. He hates phones.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to see them.” I swallowed hard.

Myles set the guitar in the case. “You can’t run from it forever, Lex.”

“I know. But she’ll just be so disappointed in me.”

“She’s your momma. You got lucky, babe. Your mom loves you. You told me as much.” He clicked the latches closed. “We’re going.”

I shook my head. “I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready.” He cupped my cheek. “I got you, Lex. I’ll be with you. We go up to Alaska, you get shit sorted with your family, and then we go on tour.”

“Where do we go next?”

“Japan, Moscow, Germany.” He grinned at me. “You and me can test our new songs together.”

I shook my head. “You mean you can play them.”

“Nope.Weplay them. You and me, together.”

“You’re asking for too much, Myles.” I heard my voice shake.

“You’re woman enough to face it, Lex. First your mom, and then the world.”