Lacey takes a swig of wine, her body so stiff she could moonlight as a mannequin. But when she meets Sal’s eyes, her voice is soft. “Yeah. You love him a lot.”
Luke needs a shave.
The thought’s been on his mind since he and Seth left the house for Six String Studios. As much as he hates to admit it, Lacey was right. He’s been so preoccupied with getting Sal settled, he didn’t realize his wife might think him a stone-cold stranger.
But a shave has to wait. Because Mort Stein can’t.
Running a hand across his beard, Luke scours the studio with a wary eye. A place he hasn’t been in for near on a year. Gold records line the wall, awards on a shelf, bottles of whiskey on a bar cart. Jace and Seth seated together beside Luke on a long black couch.
Mort, behind his mahogany desk, rattles off a game plan.
“Let’s talk career next steps,” Mort says, stroking a graying sideburn. “Hell, boys. I ain’t gonna dance around it. It’s obvious you three have been out of commission for a while. My biggest stars ... crashing and burning their careers at their highest peak.” He holds up a hand when Luke opens his mouth. “Not that that’s anyone’s fault. I understand, Luke, I do. We all do.” Arms wide, Mort gestures at the room. “But now, Sal’s back. Which means you’re back.”
Seth, from his spot beside Luke, grumbles, “You mean your moneymakers are back.”
“You want the stage back,” Mort volleys. “How about we work together to make that happen?”
Shifting on the couch, Jace sits up, his eyes on Luke.
Seth’s are too. Eager. Hopeful.
Luke’s not gonna lie. A return to the stage, to music, to being on the road with his boys is tempting. But hell, he’s been MIA for nearly a year. He couldn’t find a melody in a tin can.
“We’re rusty,” Luke says with a shake of his head. “We ain’t played together in a long while.”
A shrug. “So play.”
“What are you thinkin’, Mort?” Jace asks.
Mort lights a cigar. White smoke curls around his face. “I’m thinking a return from your hiatus. Something big. Something expensive. Something on stage so the public knows your hiatus is done. They’ll eat it up. Especially with Sal back.”
Luke stiffens. Beside him, Seth’s frowning. He doesn’t like it any more than Luke does. “My wife ain’t a story, Mort. And she ain’t gonna be used to sell your records.” Making a quick decision, Luke slaps his hands on the legs of his jeans. “I ain’t doin’ it. It’s too soon.”
Mort sucks on his cigar and looks at Jace. “That alright with you? You’re the one hurtin’ for money here.”
Jace tenses at the proclamation and shakes his head in annoyance. “Goddamnit, Mort.”
Confused, Luke leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks to his best friend for answers. “What’s he sayin’, Jace?”
Before Jace can reply, Mort chuckles and says, “Your friend’s been having a little too much fun playing a gambling man.”
Luke cuts a glance at Seth, who looks just as surprised before glancing back at Jace. “Is that true?”
“I ain’t proud to admit it, but yeah. It is.” Jace sighs long and low. “I got into some money trouble early this year. It’s why I’ve been pushin’ Seth to play every shit-ass gig Mort’s scrounged up.” Jace glances guiltily at the ground. The tips of his ears burn bright red with embarrassment. “Emmy Lou doesn’t know yet. But we could lose the farm. The stables.”
Luke sucks in a sharp breath. The boarding and rehab center they run for hurt horses is Emmy Lou’s life. She’d be devastated. “Jesus, Jace. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Man, you didn’t need that burden. Not with Sal ...” Jace trails off. Silence falls.
The truth hits Luke like a bucket of ice water.
Jace couldn’t tell him. Not when Luke was so lost in his own shit. The notion has Luke feeling like the worst type of man. He’s been so out of it for so long, he didn’t even realize his best friend was sinking.
“Damn.” Seth leans back on the couch, gives Jace a nod. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Don’t be.” Jace’s hazel eyes are clouded with shame. “I got myself into this mess. Luke needs to focus on Sal—”
“No,” Luke interrupts.