Why was she so nervous? They were just parents. Yes, one of them was Malcolm O'Neil, but that shouldn't make her tummy flutter or her palms sweat.
"Are you okay?" Brian asked.
"Fine," she squeaked.
"Don't be nervous. They'll love you."
The mood backstage was more sedate than usual, with scarcely a scantily clad woman to be found. Brian opened the dressing room door and ushered Myrna inside. The instant Brian stepped into the room, a stunning woman grabbed him in a crushing hug and kissed him square on the mouth.
"Excuse me," Myrna said crossly.
"Mom," Brian gasped. "Can't breathe."
"I don't see you for two months and you greet me with 'can't breathe'?"
He gave his mom a hug that lifted her feet off the ground. She laughed.
"Put your mother down," a deep voice said behind Myrna.
She turned and looked up at Malcolm O'Neil. Her heart did a somersault in her chest. She'd been afraid of this. She gaped up at him like a fish out of water—her throat trying to produce sounds, her mouth opening and closing sporadically. Brian's arm slid around Myrna's shoulders reassuringly.
"Well, this is her," Brian said. "This is Myrna."
"She looks normal," Malcolm said suspiciously. He looked normal, too, which surprised Myrna for some reason. Shouldn't rock legends glow with greatness?
"Don't mind him," Brian's mom said. "He's forgotten his manners. I'm Claire Sinclair. Yes, you can laugh. I didn't realize how stupid my name would be when I agreed to marry Malcolm. I had no idea his last name wasn't O'Neil until I saw his real name on the marriage license."
"You never asked," Malcolm said.
Myrna didn't dare laugh at Claire's name. The woman intimidated the hell out of her. She had supermodel looks and a star quality that threw Midwestern-farm-girl Myrna for a loop. Claire had to be close to fifty and she looked spectacular. Not a single wrinkle marred her perfect skin, nor was there a gray hair to be found in her silky, brown hair. If Myrna had met her on the street, she'd have thought her thirty-five. Tops. It seemed biologically impossible for her to be Brian's mother. He had her high, sculpted cheekbones, but they looked more like siblings than mother and son.
"Are you adopted?" Myrna sputtered at Brian.
His eyebrows drew together. "Huh?"
"I don't mean that as an insult." Yeah, great thing to say the first time you meet your boyfriend's mother. "I mean, you look amazing, Mrs. Sinclair. It seems impossible that you'd have a twenty-eight year-old son."
Mrs. Sinclair beamed. "You're a dear for saying so." She took Myrna's elbow and drew her away from her husband and son. "Please, call me Claire. Now, tell me all about yourself. Brian says you're a doctor."
"Well, not a physician. A professor."
"Yes, he told me as much, but he won't tell me what your degree is in. I'm dying to know."
What little respect she'd garnered by being a doctor was about to be thrown to the wayside. "I… er… well… the thing is…"
Brian appeared at her elbow. "I've got to go get ready for the show. Sorry to abandon you. I'll take you both to a late dinner or something. Dad, too."
Myrna used her eyes to plead with him to rescue her, but he just smiled at her, obviously pleased that she got along with his mother.
"We'll be fine, dear," Claire said. "Break a leg or whatever I'm supposed to say to wish you luck."
Myrna watched Brian head for the shower room, longing to follow him. And not because he was about to get naked.
"Well, Myrna?" Claire continued. "Are you going to tell me? What's your degree in?"
Eric magically appeared at Myrna's side. Either that or she had been too distracted to notice his approach. "She's a certified human sexuality professor."
Claire laughed. "Well, that would explain Brian's fascination with her."
Ouch.
"So you're like Doctor Ruth. Only younger, taller, and more attractive," Claire said.
"No, Doctor Ruth is a Sex Psychiatrist," Myrna clarified. "I don't treat people for sexual dysfunction."
"Well, that's a relief," Malcolm said behind her, his booming voice making her jump. "I thought maybe my boy had some problems he didn't see fit to share."
"No, no problems." Myrna's face flamed.
"And trust her, she would know," Eric said.
He laughed. Claire laughed. Malcolm laughed. But Myrna didn't laugh. She was too busy looking for a rock to crawl under.
"Doctor Myrna's on tour with us because she's studying the sexual behavior of our groupies," Eric added.
Claire stopped laughing. "Ugh," she said. "Groupies. How do you stand them?" She wrapped an arm around her husband's waist and looked up at him. "I hated your groupies."
"They hated you, too," he said and kissed her passionately. She clung to him as if he'd stolen her senses. If he kissed anything like his son did, Myrna was certain Claire had completely lost her senses. Myrna's face flamed even hotter at her errant thoughts. These were Brian's parents. His parents.
Mind out of the gutter, Myrna.
When Claire and Malcolm drew apart, Malcolm looked down at Myrna. It was strange to look up at an older, not quite as gorgeous, version of her boyfriend. "So what have you learned about Brian's groupies?"
"They're all madly in love with his stage persona," she said.
"But you're madly in love with the real person," Malcolm said. Myrna felt the blood drain from her face. "That's why I married Claire. She knew the real me and loved me anyway."
Claire grinned up at him mischievously. "What makes you so sure?"
"Excuse me," Myrna said. "I need to… erm… use the restroom."
She fled to the shower room, not realizing how it must look until she'd already entered and found herself in the company of not only naked-Brian, but also naked-Sed and naked-Trey. She caught a glimpse of three very nice, very white asses before she diverted her gaze and scanned the room for a bathroom stall. Urinal? No can do.
"Don't mind me," she said, locating a stall in the corner. She let herself in and locked the door behind her. She stood there trying to collect her scattered wits. What exactly had Brian told his parents about her? Madly in love? She'd never been madly in love with anyone.
"You okay in there?" Brian asked from the other side of the stall door.
"Did you tell your father I was madly in love with you?"
"Uh… No, of course not."
"Don't lie to me, Brian Sinclair." She opened the stall door. He stood there in his towel, water clinging to his skin, looking as irresistible as ever. Madly in lust . Yeah, she'd admit to that.
"I'm not lying. Are you hiding?"
She laughed. It sounded false even to her own ears. "Of course I'm not hiding."
"Trying to get a glimpse of the band naked?"
"Yeah, that's what I was doing."
"So, who said what?"
She could tell his patience was wearing thin. "Your father said I was madly in love with you." She rolled her eyes.
"Maybe he was just calling it like he saw it." He put his hands on his hips, a challenge in his eyes.
"What did you tell them?"
"I didn't tell them anything." He sighed, all the fight going out of him. "Because apparently there's nothing to tell." He turned and walked toward the dressing area.
She lifted a hand toward his retreating back. Trey approached, one towel around his waist, another in his hands as he dried his hair. He dropped the second towel around his shoulders. Trey usually had this devil-may-care expression on his face, so Myrna didn't quite know what do when confronted by this serious version of party boy.
"I try to stay out of this because it's none of my business," he said, "but you need to realize a few things, Myrna. Brian won't say anything."
"About what?"
"About his parents."
Her brow arched in question.
"It's hard to understand what it's like for Brian. To grow up in the shadow of a great and be destined for the same career. Brian has always tried to prove himself to his father, and the man scarcely validates him as a musician. I don't think Malcolm realizes how that affects his son. Brian works his ass off to show his father he's worthy of his approval, but it doesn't matter. He'll always fall short in Malcolm's eyes. And Brian's mother?" Trey rolled his eyes. "She's got her plastic surgeon on fuckin' speed dial. I know because my father handles her wrinkle catastrophes. All she cares about is herself and how great she looks."
Myrna shook her head. "She obviously loves her son."
"Yeah, now that he's famous. She completely ignored Brian as a kid. She was too concerned about Kara's blossoming beauty. Do you know who Kara is? Brian's little sister."
"Brian told me she died."
Trey nodded, a deep sadness in his eyes. "When Kara died, Claire's competition for best-looking in the family was gone. I think she was relieved that her daughter would never surpass her in the modeling world. And Malcolm is the same way with Brian. It's strange to watch. And it eats Brian alive. He always makes excuses for the man."
"Aren't parents happy when their children are more successful than they are?"
"These aren't normal parents, Myrna. We're talking about a pair of highly successful people beyond their prime. Now the reason I'm even bringing up Brian's family baggage, at risk of a serious ass whippin', is because Brian saw fit to introduce you to his parents. That's a big deal for him, you know. He's never opened a relationship to criticism from them. He identified you as being worthy of their approval. Approval even he can't seem to obtain."
"You mean he's never introduced a romantic interest to his parents before?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, why didn't you just say that?"
"Because if I called you his 'romantic interest,'" he said, using finger quotes, "you'd probably go hide in the bathroom again."
"I wasn't hiding."
"Yeah, uh-huh, okay. Myrna, you really shouldn't blow this thing with Brian. There will come a time when that fortified wall of yours will turn him away. I mean a guy can only take so much abuse."
She scowled at him.
"Lucky for you, he's a glutton for punishment." Trey grinned. He paused and ran a finger along one eyebrow. "And he doesn't like guys."
Myrna's eyes widened. Was Trey implying what she thought he was implying?
Trey laughed. "I'm kidding, Myrna."
"Trey, you better get dressed," Sed said. He leaned against the stall partition next to Myrna.
"If you tolerated his parents tonight, it would mean a lot to him, Myrna," Trey said.
Myrna nodded. She'd pretend to be Brian's doting girlfriend for his parents' sake, but he'd owe her one. Trey winked at her and headed for the dressing area.
"What were you two discussing?" Sed asked. "Looked serious."
"Parents."
Sed sighed. "Mine didn't show up. Both of them had to work." He leaned closer to her and grinned. "So all those squats I've been doing have really been paying off, huh?"
"What?"
"Don't tell me you didn't check out my ass when I was in the shower. You'd be lying."
She snorted with laughter. "Yeah, Sed. I can't stop thinking about it. Thoughts of your perfect ass will consume my every waking moment, interrupt my dreams and send me into an insatiable lust even Brian won't be able to satisfy."
"I could offer my assistance." He ran his fingers over her lapel, his eyes trained on her neckline.
"Only if you want to lose some teeth," she said, brandishing a fist at him.
He laughed. "You know it turns me on when you play hard to get."
"Try impossible to get." She patted his recently shaved cheek and headed toward the locker room exit, hoping Brian's parents wouldn't notice that she'd just spent twenty minutes in the locker room with their son and two other guys.
She found Claire laughing hysterically with Eric. Claire wiped tears from the corner of her eye and gave Eric a heartfelt squeeze. "I'm going to adopt you one of these days."
"If you adopt me, I can't marry you," he said, grinning ear to ear.
"Hey, wait until I'm dead before you start hitting on her," Malcolm said, drawing his wife away from Eric and against his side.
Claire started when she noticed Myrna standing at her elbow. "Oh, you're back," she said. "So, how did you meet my son?"
Myrna wondered if Brian had already told her. She knew better than to get caught in a lie, but if Brian had already lied about it, then he'd be the one who looked bad. She smiled, deciding to be as vague as possible.
"I met him in a hotel lounge. I was at a conference for work and he…" Why had the band been in the hotel that night instead of staying on the tour bus?
"…was staying in the hotel suite the concert venue provided free of charge," Eric supplied. "Nothing better than a long bath after being on the road for a month."
At Eric's mention of the hotel bath, Myrna's lungs stopped functioning.
Claire giggled.
"I hear you," Malcolm said.
Myrna decided it would be better if she asked the questions. "So I assume the two of you have seen Sinners in concert before. They put on a fantastic live show, don't they? The best."
Eric beamed at Myrna's compliment and shifted from Claire's to Myrna's side. Myrna hoped he didn't start with the perpetual fondling. She glanced up at him and found him behaving himself for a change. Claire didn't look too pleased to have lost Eric's undivided attention. Trey obviously understood this woman quite well. Myrna made a note to never look more attractive than Brian's mother while in her presence.
"We've seen them quite a few times," Malcolm said. "They sound a hell of a lot better than they did when they were making noise out in the garage as teenagers."
Claire giggled again and patted her husband's chest. "They were awful, weren't they?"
"And now they're one of the most popular and talented bands out there," Myrna said, still smiling.
Eric touched the small of Myrna's back, as if trying to protect her from impending doom.
"Just because you're popular doesn't mean you're talented," Malcolm said, scowling.
If Myrna had a cotton swab, she would have cleaned out her ears. He didn't really just say that, did he? Eric's fingers gripped the back of her jacket. Was he trying to keep her from jumping Brian's father and kicking the shit out of him? Probably a good move on Eric's part.
"They just don't make music like they used to," Malcolm added.
"Thank God," Myrna grumbled.
"I mean Sed doesn't even sing," Malcolm said. "He just screams and growls."
Eric's fingers gripped Myrna's jacket even tighter.
"And Brian solos constantly," Malcolm continued, the furrow in his brow deepening. "He wouldn't know a good riff if it bit him in the ass."
"Malcolm…" Claire said in warning, but she was grinning to herself in agreement.
"And why in the hell do you need three bass drums, Sticks?" Malcolm asked. "You only have two feet. And fourteen cymbals? I mean really. What's the point?"
"Different sounds," Eric said quietly.
"You're a fuckin' drummer. Your job is to keep the beat, not make different sounds ."
"Eric is the best drummer in the business," Myrna said, her blood pressure sky high. "Sed has a beautiful voice and Brian's solos are amazing!"
"Yeah, well, it sounds like a bunch of noise. It ain't music."
"What the hell do you know, you washed-up has-been?" Myrna sputtered. "Why don't you step off your self-erected pedestal and offer your son some support? You don't want him to succeed, do you? He thinks you want him to appreciate his success, but in reality, you didn't want him to surpass you. Too late, O'Neil. He already has."
"Did you just call me a 'has-been'?" Malcolm asked.
She doubted he'd heard anything else she'd said. The important stuff about his son had apparently bounced off his overly large ego. Frustrated to the limits of her tolerance, she shoved Eric away and spun on her heel. Sed, who was standing directly behind her, caught her by the shoulders to steady her. And beside Sed stood Trey and… Brian.
Shit!
From Brian's stunned expression, she gathered he'd overheard her tirade.
"I'm sorry." She ducked her head so she didn't have to see his face. What was she thinking? Calling a rock legend—Brian's father —a washed-up has-been. To his face. She wouldn't take it back though. She'd meant every word. "We'll talk later, Brian. I'll go wait on the bus." Maybe she could think of the right thing to say in the interim. She was at a complete loss at the moment.
"Why?" Brian asked.
"You heard what she called me," Malcolm bellowed.
"I also heard what you said." Emotion made Brian's voice waver, but Myrna still couldn't garner the courage to look at him. "If you don't want to be here, you should leave."
Malcolm grunted.
"Is it that hard for you to be proud of him?" Trey asked.
"Trey, stay out of this," Brian said. "He doesn't have to support everything I do."
"But he should," Myrna murmured. She wondered how it was possible to produce words with her entire foot in her mouth.
"You don't want to watch the show either?" Brian asked Myrna.
"Of course I want to watch the show."
"I never said I didn't want to be here," Malcolm added.
"It's settled then. Everyone has to suffer through my solos for the next hour."
Myrna reached for Brian's hand, but he threw her off and stalked out of the dressing room. Before she could start after him, Trey caught her arm. "Thanks for saying something," he whispered. "He'd have kicked my ass for that."
"I should have kept my mouth shut." Now she had to fix things. She didn't want to be remembered as Brian's crazy ex-girlfriend who'd called Malcolm O'Neil a has-been.
Trey grinned. "You just showed how much you care. Brian will be stoked when he cools down and realizes it."
"I don't think he's stoked that I made an ass of myself in front of his parents."
She glanced at Malcolm and Claire who were talking with their heads close together as they followed Eric out of the dressing room.
"The name-calling was a bit much," Trey said.
"And who instigated the entire thing?" She jabbed Trey in the chest with her finger. "You. I wouldn't have gone off if you hadn't alerted me to the situation."
"I've been wanting to tell off Brian's father for years."
Trey started after the rest of the group and Myrna followed, her mind racing. "How can I make this up to him?"
"Do you want my honest opinion?" Trey asked.
"No, Trey, I want you to lie to me."
He grinned at her crookedly. "If you can get Malcolm to admit Brian is a great guitarist, I think he'll forgive you."
"That should be easy enough. All he has to do is listen to Brian play."
"Good luck with that."
"Do you think I can talk Malcolm into joining Brian on stage while he's soloing in the middle of the show?"
"Doubtful." Trey paused and took her by the arm, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Maybe if the band plays a tribute to Winged Faith. Malcolm's problem is he's stuck in the seventies. He's an amazing musician but refuses to change, which puts him out of a job."
"That might work. Does the band know any Winged Faith songs?"
Trey's eyebrow arched. "Do you really have to ask? Every band knows every Winged Faith song ever written."
She chuckled. "True." Problem was, she doubted that Malcolm would agree to any suggestion she made. She squared her shoulders. She just wouldn't take no for an answer.
Trey laughed and tugged her into motion again.
She glanced up at him. "What?"
"The look of determination on your face. Papa Sinclair won't know what hit him." He hugged her against his side.
When they entered the backstage area, Myrna and Trey went in opposite directions. She spotted Brian near the stairs behind the stage. He always had preshow jitters, but tonight he looked physically ill.
She considered going to talk to him, but figured she'd probably make things worse and he didn't need the added anxiety right before their set. Trey, now equipped with his yellow and black guitar, approached Brian and pounded him on the back vigorously. He leaned close and said something in Brian's ear. Brian smiled, seeming to relax slightly, and whispered something back.
Trey was so good to Brian. She loved Trey for it and was jealous of him at the same time. She didn't quite understand that jealousy part. Trey had always been there for Brian. She should be happy that he had that kind of friend. And in a way she was. In another way, she wished she was the one who Brian depended on.
Brian's eyes met hers across a sea of sound equipment. He sucked his top lip into his mouth and lowered his eyes to inspect his shoes. Her heart twisted and tears prickled her eyes.
He couldn't even look at her.
Was this the end? God, she hoped not.
But even if he never forgave her, she wanted to patch things up between him and his father. She'd put her psychology degree into full operational mode.
She continued around the stage, hurting more than she should. Why did she care if Brian no longer wanted to be with her? She never expected him to be a permanent fixture in her life, but this was too soon. She wasn't ready to give him up. Their three months weren't over. She still had six more weeks of data to collect for her project.
Myrna stood next to Malcolm on the floor to the side of the stage. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a look of tried patience on his face. Myrna bit her tongue and turned her attention to the stage. A camera crew stood ready to film a live video the band would be releasing soon. They'd chosen their hometown for the video because the crowd was guaranteed to be pumped up. When the stadium lights went down, the roar of the crowd was so deafening Myrna covered her ears with both hands.
Knock 'em dead, guys.
The curtain dropped and blinding white streams of fireworks fell behind the stage. The brilliant light-curtain silhouetted Brian, who stood on a platform behind and above the drum kit wailing on the intro to "Gates of Hell." Myrna's heart thudded with a mixture of pride and anticipation. Claire clapped excitedly. Malcolm didn't move a muscle. The crowd erupted in chaos.
Plumes of fire shot into the air on either side of the drum kit the instant the rest of the band joined Brian. The crowd screamed their approval.
Sed's low growl started to build. Myrna didn't see him at first, but based on their enthusiastic reaction, the fans obviously did. Then she saw what had them so excited. Sed rose from the floor, center stage, the low rumble of his voice increasing in intensity as a platform lifted him. When the platform hit flush with the stage, Sed leapt onto a raised, circular stage section that jutted out toward the crowd. Red and blue fountains of sparks shot up around him on all sides, concealing him in a circle of colorful light. As soon as the display went dark, he started singing the lyrics.
The pyrotechnics display impressed Myrna with its perfect synchronicity to the song. The crew had outdone themselves for the live recording.
"Show offs," Malcolm grumbled.
Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the shins.
As the song's solo approached, Brian worked his way down from the platform behind the drums toward the circular outset at center stage. Sed moved back and Brian took his place. During his solo, a ring of fire surrounded his feet. As if he were playing for the devil himself, the flames licked higher and higher as the music built, until she could only see his silhouette. Myrna's heart squeezed with anxiety. Being surrounded by all those flames must be hot, and if something went wrong…
But the fire died at the end of the solo and Brian stepped back onto the main stage unharmed.
"Wasn't that cool, baby?" Claire shouted.
Malcolm shrugged.
Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the ass.
When the song ended, the crowd yelled their approval.
"Good evening, Los Angeles!" Sed screamed into the mic. "Are you ready to rock?" He held the mic out toward the crowd. When they weren't loud enough to satisfy him, he screamed, "I said, are you ready to mother fuckin' rock?" He punctuated his final words with exaggerated nods of his head and thrust his microphone toward the audience. The crowd responded with greater enthusiasm.
Claire cringed. "Does he have to cuss like that?"
"Small vocabulary," Malcolm commented, grinning to himself.
Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the stomach.
Sed continued on stage, "The hometown crowd looks beautiful from where I stand. What do you think, Jace?" He grabbed Jace in a headlock and pulled him to the front of the stage.
"Craziest fuckers on the planet," Jace said quietly into Sed's microphone.
Myrna grinned. He was so damn cute. Some girl in the audience yelled, "I love you, Jace!"
Myrna could see the blush spread up his face from where she stood. "I love you, too."
"Oh hell, no," Sed growled. "I don't get any love?" He spread his arms wide, inviting adulation.
Thousands of women professed their love for Sed at the top of their lungs. He grinned like a shark.
"That's more like it," he said. "As you know, we're filming the concert tonight, so are you going to raise the roof?"
Yeah, they were. He sure knew how to get them pumped up. Myrna covered her ears to protect them from the roar of the crowd.
"Cuz our producer thought we should film this in fuckin' Canada."
Rounds of boos from the audience.
"That's what I said. Now, don't make me look bad. I stuck up for you guys. I said no one knows how to rock harder than L.A. What do you say, Master Sinclair?"
"I don't know, Sed," Brian said into his microphone, stage left. "Remember the last time we were up North? Those fans are pretty fuckin' insane." He paused for the crowd's negative response. "But I think they were just trying to keep warm." He rubbed his arms as if cold and hopped up and down like an overly excited fan. Eric drummed a buh-dum-bumb to accompany Brian's attempt at comedy.
Myrna laughed along with everyone else. Except Malcolm. His jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together.
Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the throat.
What in the hell was Malcolm's problem? He seemed to be making an effort to not enjoy himself. Claire had wandered off to chatter with a roadie and the lead singer of one of the opening bands, who obviously didn't realize he was hitting on Brian Sinclair's mother. Claire didn't seem to care that her son easily kept ten thousand people entertained with his talent and charm. She paid him no mind.
No wonder Brian desperately needed love and Myrna's constant approval. Stupid parents. Myrna had the strangest desire to just hug Brian. Hold him. Tell him how wonderful he was. How his father's approval didn't matter. He had the approval of hundreds of thousands of fans, but she knew that wouldn't fill that hole in him she hadn't recognized until this evening. Only one thing would fill that.
"You know what you should do," Myrna said to Malcolm as nonchalantly as she could muster. "You should get up there and show these kids where their guitar heroes got their influence."
He glanced at her, but quickly covered his look of interest with annoyance. "Why are you talking to me?"
Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the teeth.
She shrugged. "Well, if you can't…"
He grunted, the arms crossed over his chest tightening until his biceps strained the sleeves of his T-shirt. "There's a difference between can't and won't."
"The outcome is the same."
The band started the next song. Myrna watched with her usual enthusiasm, pretending to ignore Malcolm, who tapped his toe occasionally and shifted his hands into his pockets during Brian's solo. This might be easier than she thought. He wanted to be up there with Brian. She knew he did. So why was he holding back? And why did he find it necessary to belittle not only Brian, but his entire band?
The majority of the crowd was a mosh pit—bodies ricocheting off each other in chaos. When the song ended, the audience surged toward the barrier as individuals tried to situate themselves closer to the stage.
"Wild crowd tonight," Myrna commented. "Ever had a crowd like this one?"
Malcolm snorted. "Ever heard of Woodstock?"
"Oh yeah, you played there when Winged Faith was first starting out. That was what? Forty years ago?"
He scowled. "Yeah, I guess it has been that long. Best four days of my life."
"I'm betting the days your children were born were right up there with them."
"I was on tour in Cleveland when Brian was born. New Orleans with Kara."
"That must've been hard. Being on the road and missing your children's births."
"Being on the road all the time is hard. I missed a lot. But not being on the road is harder."
"You could get a little taste of that back tonight. I'm sure Brian would love to play a tribute to Winged Faith with you on stage. He said so himself." Forgive me for lying, Brian.
Malcolm's brow furrowed with what Myrna hoped was consideration. He glanced at his wife, who had found several more men to add to her entourage. Myrna counted two drummers, a bassist, and a guitarist, in addition to the lead singer and roadie. Malcolm rolled his eyes, removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms again.
She could tell he wanted to be on stage, but apparently he needed more pushing. "I need to apologize to you for calling you a—"
He lifted a hand to silence her. "Do you always talk this much?" he asked. "You must drive Brian insane."
She laughed. "No, I talk a lot when I'm nervous."
He looked at her. Really looked at her for the first time. "Why are you nervous?"
"I'm in the presence of one of the original guitar greats. I don't think anyone could make me more nervous. Unless Jimi Hendrix rose from the grave and stood beside me."
"A Jimi Hendrix zombie would make everyone nervous." They laughed, continuing to talk loudly because the next song had started on stage.
"Did you meet Hendrix at Woodstock?"
Malcolm shook his head. "I watched him, though. That man could play."
"Brian's one of a kind, but I hear Hendrix's influence in his sound. And yours."
"Mine? He doesn't play anything like me."
"Sure he does. Listen to him. It's your style with embellishments."
"Lots of embellishments," he said, but he listened. Myrna suspected this was the first time Malcolm had actually heard Brian play. She watched Malcolm's expression change from indifference, to disbelief, to interest, and finally pride. "He does sound a lot like me," he murmured. He glanced at Myrna. "With embellishments."
"The fans love his soloing style, but without the sensual undercurrents that he borrowed from you, he'd sound flat."
"Look at him go. I could never keep up with him. He has crazy fast fingers."
Myrna flushed and averted her gaze. "Yeah."
When the song ended after a particularly embellished guitar outro, Malcolm clapped and thrust a fist in the air. "That's the way to play it, son," he shouted.
Myrna wished she'd gotten that on tape. She almost had him. Just a little more pushing and she knew she could talk Malcolm into joining Brian on stage. She'd better hurry though, because she only had the span of two songs to convince him.