Chapter 64
“No,” Lucky says, “we don’t have to be saviors.”
“Standing here and doing nothing is one step down from being the bad guys.”
“That’s not fair. Of course I want to help, but I don’t think unnecessarily dying helps anyone.”
Love. Protection. Community. It used to be understood as a basic human trait. Now I’m not sure what is base about humans beyond our ability to surprise ourselves.
“Then stay. I’ll go by myself.”
He blinks himself into my path, stopping me. “Oh, no, no, no, no. Christ, what is it about you journos? I’m cursed to want you, and you’re cursed to break my heart.”
He pushes both hands into his hair. I don’t have time for his internal struggle; there are lives at stake, and if I’m on my own, I need to leave now.
Lucky huffs. “I’m just a musician. I write down my feelings, and sometimes, it sounds good. I’m not a bloody hero.”
“You don’t need to be,” I counter. “I’m asking you to be a good man.”
“Fuck it. But if I die, don’t let Bentley fucking Michaels anywhere near these guitars. That prat’s had his eye on ’em for years, and I’d rather get up close and personal with his moldy balls than let him touch my babies.”
Later, when all this is done, I’m going back to the shop and asking Moira for something to remove that image from my head.
“I promise. Can we go now?”
* * *
What are you waiting for?
let’s do this (go to 66)
go back (go to 42)