Free Heated Beat 02 - Lucky Man by Garrett Leigh Page A

did sound exhausted, and Finn felt bad for doubting him. “I’m in the car right now. Good job you called, actually. I was dozing off.”
    “Are you driving?”
    “Nah, just waiting.”
    “Like a stakeout?”
    Danny laughed. “Something like that, only far less exciting.”
    Curiosity burned a hole in Finn’s shambolic brain, but Danny’s vague answer told him further questioning would get him nowhere. “So… it’s the Liverpool derby on Saturday. Most of the band are watching it here. Come over if you want.”
    Silence, one of those awkward, stretched-out beats that amplified the noise in Finn’s subconscious until he was sure he’d made a total twat of himself. Then a car door slammed on the street outside the house, and he realized he’d zoned out and missed Danny’s answer. “Huh?”
    Danny chuckled. “I said I’ll come over if I get off work in time.”
    There wasn’t much else to say. Finn said good-bye and hung up, then lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d felt adrift all week, but Danny’s gently dry humor had evened him out.
    The front door banged. Jack was home, and he wasn’t alone. Finn listened to him and Will crash around, pretended to be asleep when Jack checked on him, then later, heard them slip into bed and fuck. Hearing them love each other like that often pissed Finn off as much as he felt happy for them, but tonight, with Danny’s warm laugh echoing in his head, he found comfort in their affection and fell asleep.
     
     
    J ACK FLICKED a balled-up crisp packet at Finn’s head. “Piss off with the Morcheeba, will you?”
    “Fuck off.” Finn threw a glare in Jack’s general direction, knowing it would only encourage Jack to wind him up more.
    “Seriously, mate. You only play that stoner shite when you’re nervous. Why are you so agitated about this bloke coming over? Thought you’d shagged him already.”
    “Fuck off .” Finn looked around for something else to throw.
    Will intervened. “Jack, leave him alone. Just ’cause you don’t give a shit what I think of you, doesn’t mean everyone else is the same.”
    “Bollocks. That’s not true.” Jack looked affronted, but Will had him there. The two of them had been friends their whole lives. They knew each other inside out, loved each other flaws and all, even if they weren’t always sure what to do with it.
    Finn gave Jack the finger and went back to his Gibson. The match had started half an hour ago, and Finn’s house was full of the friends who made his life bearable—made his life happy —but with Danny due anytime, his nerves had got the better of him and he’d retreated to the dining room. Jack had come after him, and naturally Will had followed, so Finn’s sanctuary had turned into Jack heckling him and Will doing his best to keep the peace.
    Jack stomped off to find more crisps. Will took his place, perched on the battered dining table that held Jack’s drum kit more often than it did plates of food.
    “Play ‘Big Calm’ again. I like that one. Reminds me of Newquay Festival last year.”
    Finn strummed the warm chord pattern and smiled. Jack had taken Will all over the world with his DJ work, but the glitz and glamor was lost on Will. Finn too, for that matter, and for a while he let the grungy, mellow tune work its magic and calm the devil inside him.
    Then he sensed a new presence and his world narrowed to the inky-haired man in the doorway. He came. Finn dropped his guitar pick. Danny came forward and retrieved it. He held it out with a tired smile.
    “Don’t stop. I like that one.”
    “Yeah?” Finn picked out the tune again. “Didn’t have you pegged as a nineties trip-hop folk fan.”
    “A what?”
    “Never mind.”
    Finn set his guitar aside. He felt vulnerable without its comforting weight in his hands, but the feeling faded as he and Danny stared at each other. True to his word, Danny looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but Finn reckoned he’d never looked