Dirty(61)
“What do you think, Lydia?”
“I can’t.”
A frown. “You can’t what?”
“Think.”
His smile was pure carnal pleasure.
The doorbell jangled again and Andre entered, all smiles. “Those kids are your new biggest fans. You should have heard them going on about you.”
Vaughan moved back a step. Thank god. I got the feeling mounting him on the shop counter in the Guitar Den might be a no-no. Public place, children had recently been present, et cetera.
“They’re great kids,” said Vaughan.
“No,” corrected Andre. “You’re a great teacher.”
With a laugh, Vaughan moved his hand to the back of my neck and started rubbing. Sore muscles eased. Even my feet stopped hurting, mostly. I leaned into his touch, urging him on. Any and all contact with the man made things better.
“I’m serious,” said Andre. “You’ve got a gift, Vaughan.”
“No. Just a little more patience with children than you do.”
Andre cut the air with his hand, suddenly serious. “Bullshit.”
“Man—”
“I didn’t need it, so I pretty much let the teaching side of the business slide. But it wouldn’t take much for you to build it up again,” said Andre, hand outstretched and expression earnest. “Soundproof room’s out back, it’s all there. Move back here and teach guitar. You can make decent money doing something you like.”
“Come on.”
“Don’t tell me you weren’t enjoying sharing the music with those kids. I saw your face.”
The fingers fell from my neck and Vaughan turned away. “It was fun, sure. But it’s not what I do.”
“It could be.”
“No.” Vaughan shook his head. “Listen, I called Conn earlier. You’re not going to believe this, but Henning Peters wants to work with us. Isn’t that fucking amazing?”
“Impressive.”
“Right? Apparently he saw us play last year and liked what he heard. Thinks we could write some good stuff together,” said Vaughan. “And get this, he’s got record companies already lined up wanting to hear his next project.”
“Is that what you want, to be someone’s project?”
“Hell yes. Henning’s on the verge of going big and we’ll be right there with him. Come on, Andre. This is an amazing opportunity, you know it.” Vaughan’s grin was big, huge. “All I have to do is survive financially until we’ve got enough songs ready then we are going to make a shitload of money.”
“That’s what it’s about now, the money?”
“It was always about the money.”
“No, it wasn’t,” argued Andre “When you left here, you wanted to share your music. You wanted to play guitar, write songs and get them out there, perform live. That’s what drove you.”
I hung back, keeping quiet. Awkward. It seemed being caught in difficult situations was my lot these days. I only wish I knew how to help. Other than keeping my mouth shut and staying out of it, of course.
“Christ,” breathed Vaughan, laughing softly. “Ease up, Andre. I’m still doing what I love.”
“Then why are you so fucking unhappy?”
Vaughan’s face was blank, empty.
“I’ve known you almost all your life. You put on a good show, but you’re not fooling everybody.”
“We’ve been going through some shit, that’s all.”
Face lined with frustration, Andre shook his head. “I’m not talking about we, about the band. I’m talking about you.”
Nothing.
“Heading back out to the coast is not the only option you—”
“Are you insane?” Vaughan took a deep breath, visibly searching for calm. “This is the biggest opportunity of my life. I’m not stopping now.”
“You played to crowds of thousands, got albums out there, songs on the charts. Sure as hell, you got further than I ever did,” said Andre with a self-deprecating smile. “If your parents were alive, they’d be ecstatic.”
“It’s not enough.”
“When something is no longer working, changing your plans is not giving up. It’s not failure.”
“Maybe not for you. But for me, it would be. Especially with Henning now in the cards. I’m not staying here, I’ve moved on.”
For a moment Andre said nothing and the silence stung. But his next words, and the tone of his voice, was far worse. “Yeah, Vaughan, you moved on, and you left a hell of a lot of people behind.”
Everything stopped as if someone had pressed “pause.”
The two men just looked at each other. Then a car zoomed past, the doorbell jangled, and a customer entered. Nothing had changed. Angry words didn’t stop the world from turning round.