“I didn’t say yes,” he countered.
I shrugged. “If it was no you would have been asking for details.”
The waiter showed up then with a large basket of chips, a big bowl of salsa and Nick’s beer. Clearly since I was paying, Jess was getting her money’s worth.
Nick picked up his beer. I used a chip to scoop up a mouthful of salsa. “Did you know one of Fenety’s ex’s was also in town?”
He drank a mouthful of beer before he answered. “Since I can’t talk about that seems to mean yes to you, I’ll just skip that part and say yes.”
I smiled at him. “I told you I’d keep you in the loop.”
“So I should consider myself looped?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Nick swiped a chip, scooped up some salsa and ate it.
“Don’t even think about double dipping,” I said, pointing to the half a chip he was still holding.
He put his free hand on his chest. “Me?” he asked, the picture of fake innocence.
“Yes, you,” I said. “You used to do that so you could keep the salsa all to yourself.”
“It never stopped you, as I remember.”
I felt my face flood with color. Nick laughed. I ducked my head over my wineglass.
“Are you going to play?” I asked after a minute of awkward silence.
He shook his head. “I didn’t bring a guitar and, anyway, I’m way too rusty. You heard me the other day.”
“You didn’t sound rusty to me,” I said. “And you know Sam has more than one guitar here.”
“That I do,” a voice said behind me.
I turned and smiled up at Sam. “What do you say?” he asked Nick.
“The same thing I said to Sarah.” He held up his left hand. “My fingers are out of practice.”
Sam shrugged. “Best way to get in practice is to play.” He looked at me. “The Rickenbacker is great. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” I said. “I’m glad someone’s playing it instead of leaving it in a closet.”
He pulled his fingers through his beard. “Yeah. A good guitar should be played.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eric coming with his bass.
Sam saw him, too. “Almost time to get started,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.” He pushed through the crowd toward his office.
Jess made her way back to the table. “Stay there,” she said to Nick when he went to get up.
She took Nick’s seat and pulled the basket of chips a little closer. “Umm, these are even better than the last batch,” she said after she’d loaded a corn chip with about a third of the bowl of salsa and eaten the entire thing in one bite.
Sam and the rest of the guys made their way back on stage and started with “For Your Love.” They went right into “Eve of Destruction” after that.
“Sometimes our friends join us for a song or two on Thursday nights,” Sam said after the song was over. That got him a cheer from the audience. “One of those friends is here tonight. And it’s been a few years since he’s been up here on stage.”
“He wouldn’t,” Nick said quietly beside me.
I just looked at him without saying anything. Because I knew Sam would.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sam said. “Please give a warm Black Bear welcome to Nick Elliot!”
There were enough people there who knew Nick that the room got loud with people clapping and hooting. Jess whistled again and clapped, hands in the air.
I leaned toward Nick. “Welcome home,” I said.
He got to his feet, raising a hand to acknowledge the applause. Then he made his way to the stage, and I saw him raise an eyebrow at Sam, who simply handed him the Rickenbacker and then gave a nod to Eric. As soon as Eric began the bass line I knew what song they were going to do. So did Nick. He had taken the empty stool next to Sam and he lifted his head from the guitar, looked right at me and flashed a quick smile.
“Peaceful Easy Feeling” by the Eagles was the first song I’d taught myself to play on my dad’s guitar, the one Maddie had rescued for me. I’d played it for Nick. I swallowed a couple of times against the rush of emotion I suddenly felt.
Jess moved over into the empty chair next to me. She leaned against me as Sam and the guys started to play. “Thank you for the chips. They’re so, so good,” she said.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” I said, grateful to have something else to focus on.
“Yes, it does,” she said, reaching for another chip and nodding along with the music.
Nick had picked up the melody and Sam launched into the first verse. He gave Nick an encouraging smile on the chorus and as he slid into the second verse Nick joined in singing harmony. I’d forgotten what a great voice he had. Or maybe, more truthfully, I’d pushed the memory of how much I liked listening to him sing and play out of my mind. Sam came right out of “Peaceful Easy Feeling” right into “Hotel California” and Nick followed along.
“He’s good,” Jess said in my ear.
I just nodded. Not only was I enjoying the music, but I was also enjoying how much fun Nick was having. It was written all over his face.
At the end of the song Sam held out a hand toward Nick and once again the whole place erupted with cheers and applause. Nick stood up, grinning, and took a bow. Jess was whistling and stomping her feet, and I had my hands up over my head, clapping. Nick handed the Rickenbacker to Sam and came back to the table. He dropped into his seat, face flushed.
Jess grinned at him. “That was great,” she said, her eyes dancing.
Nick shook his head and leaned toward us. “I’m just lucky Sam picked something my fingers remembered.”
Sam and the guys were playing the intro to “Pinball Wizard” and the crowd was clapping along. I shook my head. “No. You’re just good,” I said, and then I turned back to the stage.
The music was over too soon. Jess slumped against the back of her chair, one arm folded up over her head. “We have to do this more often,” she said.
“You always say that,” I said.
“And I’m always right,” she countered.
I turned to Nick. “I’m so glad you sat in for a couple of songs.”
“Sam didn’t exactly give me a choice, but me too,” he said.
I got up and stretched. Across the room I caught sight of Michelle, standing near the door. She saw me and lifted a hand. From the expression on her face it was clear she wanted to talk to me. “I’ll be right back,” I said. I worked my way over to Michelle, smiling at more than one person I recognized.
“Hi,” she said when I got close to her.
She was wearing jeans, brown boots with chunky heels and a cropped black jacket over a green sweater. She was a little thinner than I’d first realized.
“Hi,” I said. “They were good, weren’t they?”
She nodded. “Some things don’t change.”
I thought about saying some things do, but decided that would probably be a bad idea.
“Was there something you wanted to ask me?” I said instead.
“Nick told me what his mother and her friends are up to.”
I nodded. “I thought he would.”
“If you have any influence with them at all, please tell them playing detective is a very bad idea.”
“I’ve already tried that,” I said with a sigh. “It didn’t work.”
“Poking around in a murder investigation isn’t something they should be doing,” she said. She touched the pocket of her jacket and I wondered if her phone was vibrating inside.
“I know that,” I said. I sounded defensive when I didn’t really mean to. I was feeling a little guilty about how much poking around I’d been doing, too. “C’mon, Michele. You’ve known all of them for years. You know what they’re like when they get fixated on an idea. And it’s not always a bad thing, by the way. We wouldn’t have the bookmobile or the Botanic Garden or the new playground. Short of locking them up I don’t think you can stop them.”
I was expecting she’d give me an argument. Instead all she said was, “I know.” She hesitated as though she was searching for the right words. “Could you do what you can to keep them out of trouble?”