Drive(100)

“This week is all about Stella,” he said, his arms around my waist as he grabbed my blazer and held it while I slipped my arms through. I had on heels, slacks, and a blouse. I felt sophisticated and sexy, and it reflected in the eyes of my companion. “Let’s do a Stella thing.”




Hand in hand with my man, we walked toward the packed bar. “You’re an old man. I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay all night.”

“I got your old man right here,” he said wickedly as he brought our linked hands briefly and discreetly to his crotch.

“How crude,” I mocked shock.

“You know you love it,” he said without expecting an answer, which I didn’t have to give.

I walked past the long line and nodded to the doorman, Gerry, who waved us in.

Nate whispered into my hair. “My woman is such a bad ass.”

“Damn right,” I said. “I’ve been sweating my ass off for years, earning shit pay for this privilege.”

Nate furrowed his brows, but his twitching lips gave him away. “I paid you decently.”

“It was enough to buy toilet paper, you cheap bastard. A trip to Mexico is a good way to start making it up to me.”

“I could have pulled intern on you,” he said with a sigh.

“You wanted this too much,” I said, waving a dramatic hand over my face and body.

“I want it right now, so what do you say we skip this club and go home?”

“This place is packed,” I said, ignoring him and peeking over shoulders, only to see more shoulders. “I love this song.”

“What is it?”

“‘Talk Tonight’ by Oasis.”

I listened as the guy singing nailed the vocals, his voice soulful and raspy. I began to try to squeeze my way through the crowd.

Emo’s was about twice beyond capacity. Nate nodded. “He’s good. I’m getting a beer. Baby, what do you want?”

“Nothing for now. I’m still full from dinner.”

“Go.” Nate nodded toward the stage neither of us could see. “I’ll find you, but don’t get started on a story, woman. Mexico, tomorrow.”

“Hey, lady!” Casey, one of the managers of the club, came up to me. “Where the hell have you been? It’s been like two months!”

“Busy. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a shit. I haven’t been able to answer all my emails in months. So I finally decided to take you up on one of those beers you promised.”

“It’s the least I can do for you writing that piece about the renovation. I still can’t believe how you twisted it. Made this place look a national treasure.”

“Looks like business is doing well,” I said, looking around the expansive club. It was almost unrecognizable from my first years in Austin. Still, in its walls held memories no paint or shiny new metal could erase. I cleared my throat.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

“It’s awesome, right?” Casey said, looking toward the stage.

I swallowed hard as awareness pricked my skin and the crowd began to part.

Look up, Stella.

Static filled my lungs as I finally got a clear view of the stage. My stomach flipping, as Ben led the audience into a steady clap while Reid belted out the lyrics, his soul echoing through the club, uncompromisingly raw. My world tilted as I drew a breath and then another in an attempt to stave off the emotion that accompanied my utter shock.

Casey leaned in. “They just came in and said they wanted to borrow the stage. Can you fucking imagine? I guess they were feeling nostalgic. Word’s spreading quickly, we’ve upped security and the line outside isn’t going to make it in.”

Casey’s words splintered into background noise while I nodded. “Crazy thing is they’ve been playing covers all night. None of their own songs.”

With my heart fumbling over itself in rapid succession, I gripped the side of a cocktail table as I watched Dead Sergeants play like the world-class band they’d become. I hadn’t seen them live since before they got signed.

That shock was enhanced by the voice that sounded like a broken angel and it belonged to none other than Reid Crowne.

Reid Crowne was singing.

I sputtered something to Casey in agreement as I shook violently in my skin. Reid was shirtless, his T-shirt tucked into his back pocket. A new wall of tattoos covered his right side from his pec and spread over the rest of his chiseled frame. Inescapably beautiful, he pushed his rhythm, his eyes closed, while sweat dripped from his temple. He sang the story about a girl who fed him, about a girl he wanted to talk to from miles away, which he only spent a moment with, a girl who saved his life. He landed his beats expertly on the drums, the drums I won him, as he gouged my heart with his beautiful voice. I jumped as Nate slipped his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers. I gripped his fist tight as the song finished. The audience roared as the guys grinned back at Reid and Ben addressed the room. “Thank you. We’re just here to pay our respects to this great place that helped give us our start,” Ben toasted, a beer in hand with a nod toward the bar. Jon, who was still behind it years later, lifted his chin and raised his beer to reciprocate. “We promise never to fucking forget where we came from, Austin.” The patrons roared in praise as we watched on and Nate leaned over to Casey. “The Sergeants, right? Holy shit, you’ll be steady for the next six months.”