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.But they’ve played it live a few times and it went down well.” She picked up the iPod.“I’ll let you hear it and you can tell me what you think.” She put the headphones back on him, then walked away.He started to listen, aware that she hadn’t walked far, and that she was watching him.It wasn’t the band playing, just a single guitarist.The song started out with a few simple chords and a little nimble finger picking.Was it Bluto playing? Or maybe the brother, Paolo? Whichever one it was, he got a nice full sound out of his guitar.But when the first verse started, it certainly wasn’t either one of them singing.It was a woman.And it was a fine strong voice, clear and pure, with an aching beauty.No vibrato, no runs, just straight melody.No strain on the high notes, perfect pitch, almost effortless.There was a noticeable accent; the singer was making no effort to sound American or at least transatlantic.He turned and glanced at Lou, who immediately turned away and pretended to be going through her bag.It was her singing.He was sure of it.Such a lovely voice, accompanied by excellent guitar playing.The song was good.Very good.It had the feel of something old that had been modernized.The lyrics were about never giving up on something, never surrendering.It sounded like her.“Who wrote it?” he said over the music, then pointed a finger at her.She blushed, nodded.“Paolo or Bluto on guitar?”She shook her head.The tempo of the song was building, the guitar playing intensified.“You?” he asked.She nodded, then turned in the direction of the door as Bluto came crashing through it, half-carrying another man.They both fell to the ground.Over the sound of the music he could hear Lou shrieking.He pulled off the headphones.* * * *“Chiz, you drunken bampot! Are you incapable of staying sober?” Lou rushed over as Bluto climbed to his feet.“Let’s get him on the couch.” Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, repeated in her head.Lou stared down at Chiz’s grinning mug, as she, Bluto, and soon Zippy, dragged his drunken carcass to the couch and heaved him onto it.“They’re after me,” he slurred.Lou grabbed a bottle of water and emptied it over his head, smiling with satisfaction as he spluttered.She pointed a finger in his face.“It’s me you’re in trouble with, laddie.”Chiz started to giggle and hiccup.He might be a drunk, but he’d never been a mean one, Lou thought.And he was used to playing drunk.But— “Where’s Alasdair?”“With some Jamaicans.”“What Jamaicans?”“We met them at a bar down the street.”“So he’s at a bar? Which one?”Chiz shook his head and rolled off the couch.“He’s no at the bar anymore.Got to go, lass.Them…they’ll be here soon.” He pushed himself up on his feet and stood there, weaving dramatically.“The Jamaicans? Why are they coming here? What the hell did you do to them? Are they bringing Alasdair?”“Naw.He went away with them.”“Went with them where?”Chiz tried to take a step back, but ended up falling on the couch.Lou stood over him, hands on hips.Chiz looked a little terrified.“Jamaica?” He asked it nervously, trying to push himself into the couch away from her.Lou bent over and grabbed him by the shirt.“Tell me that—” She shook him.“—the fucking drummer—” She shook him again.“—hasn’t fucked off…to fucking Jamaica.” She kept shaking him until Bluto intervened.“Careful, Lou.You don’t want him hurling everywhere.”She stepped back, glaring at Chiz.“Sorry, Lou-Lou.” Chiz pushed himself up again.“I tried to stop him.But those Jamaicans were pretty persuasive.”The door opened and Lou turned to glare at the interruption.Two New York City police officers stood there.“That’s him,” said the female, pointing at Chiz.Lou thrust her hands into her hair, forcing herself not to pull it out.“What did he do?”The officers went over to Chiz and the male slapped handcuffs on him.“I didnae mean to upset you,” Chiz said to the woman.“I just saw you…and well…I fell in love.The uniform.That fierce expression?” He grinned at her stupidly.“You also offered me a joint and invited me back to your hotel for some rumpy-pumpy.Whatever the hell that is,” she said, furious.“And took off running, though it was more like staggering,” said the male officer.“That was the easiest chase ever.” He rubbed his rather rotund belly contemplatively.“Thanks for that, at least.” He hauled Chiz to standing.“And now it’s time for you to take a little ride in my vehicle.”“You can’t arrest him,” Lou yelled.“I need him.He’s my drummer.”The female officer fixed her with an icy glare.“He’s gonna be charged with every possible thing I can think up.” She pulled on Chiz’s arm, leading him towards the door.“But first he’ll be spending some time in the drunk tank.”“Since when was falling head over heels in love a crime?” Chiz slurred, grinning down at the very small woman with a very large gun.Lou closed her eyes and grimaced as Chiz was led out the door, loudly singing an extremely soppy love song.The door closed behind them.Bluto started to laugh.“Chiz never could resist a lady in a uniform.”Lou turned on him, surprised to feel hot tears burning in her eyes.“How can you laugh about this? Don’t ye understand it’s all over? Paolo in Mexico, Alasdair in Jamaica and Chiz in jail.There’ll be no big break now.After all our hard work.After all—” She stopped talking as the lump in her throat clogged her words.For it to come to this…“Aw, lass.It’s for the best.” Bluto tried to hug her, but she pushed him away.“How can you say that, Bloot?”He shrugged and stopped smiling for once.He eyed her, shaking his head.“Fucking blind, ye are.” He turned and started putting his guitar back in its case.He clipped it closed, picked it up, then stared at her.“We don’t want to be in your band any more, Lou.We’re sick of living your dream for you.Do it your fucking self.” He bent and kissed her cheek.“I’ll be starting a speed metal band.And I’d rather fail doing my own music than succeed doing yours [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]