Free SailtotheMoon by Lynne Connolly Page A

active one. I had to get away for my own good, but you were
right about the other shit. He’d brought me up, he’d taken me with him, shared
his life with me. Without him, I could have died or ended in care.” His voice
gained a sardonic edge. “That wouldn’t have ended well. So thanks for bringing
us back together. I mean it.”
    “It was like you’d only been away for a day.” Her parents
would have closed the door on her.
    “I’d take off sometimes and when I came back, he never asked
me where I’d been or who I’d been with. He waited for me to tell him, and I
always did, eventually. It was always like that. I know he has a computer
because I bought him one. Does he use it?”
    “He does.”
    “So when I’ve gone from here, we can carry on talking.” He
glanced back at the closed door. “I don’t have to go for a few days yet. And
after that, there’s another gap before we play New York.”
    She caught her breath. He looked down at her, eyes grave.
“So will you be with me? At least until then?”
    Staring at him, she saw need, pleading and a touch of sexual
arrogance in his steady gaze. “Me? Why me?”
    “Because we communicated, Laura. I’m always restless,
especially after a show, and I never sleep well. But I feel content with you. I
like you, we talk. And I slept for more than a two-hour stretch.” His mouth
twisted into a sardonic smile. “Not forgetting that you’re a great fuck.”
    She couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter.
    * * * * *
    “Fancy meeting you here.” Laura looked up from Zazz’s eReader
to find Kelsie standing over her, hands on hips.
    “Fancy,” she answered, sitting straighter in the
uncomfortable plastic chair. After finding a quiet place for lunch, Zazz had
taken Laura to the arena for that afternoon’s sound check. He’d warned her he
wouldn’t have much time for her, and she could go back to the hotel if she
wanted to. “Not a chance,” she’d told him, and happily followed him in through
the stage door. She watched with fascination as the crew milled around her,
setting everything up, checking the rigging and making sure the cables that
snaked over the stage wouldn’t trip anyone. Gone were the days when the stage
was more cable than floor.
    Some of the equipment was radio controlled. The rest of the
cables were channeled out of the way in plastic drainage tubes and wind-around
cable tidies. The stage set was too complex for the more haphazard techniques
of the past. Roadies had evolved into techies, each with their own
specialization, sound, light, even one to look after the guitars that were
stored in their own self-contained unit onstage. That fascinated Laura, and so
did the guitars, but she knew better than to touch them. Nevertheless, someone
saw her interest in them.
    “Do you play?”
    Laura spun around to confront Chick. For a big man he was
light on his feet. Come to think of it, the thick pullovers and shapeless
checked shirts he wore insinuated a figure better than the one she’d first
assumed. She wondered how much of his size was muscle. Not that she intended to
find out. “Yes, I play guitar. Acoustic, mostly.”
    Chick gave her a look through narrowed eyes. “You’re with
Zazz now, right? Are you hoping he’ll give you a spot?”
    “He’s not my client.” She wasn’t breaking any laws, actual
or ethical. Then she realized what he was really saying. “And I haven’t told
him I play. Or that I write songs. I might, but I’m not stupid enough to think
he’d immediately offer to get me into the business. Anyway, I’m not sure I want
to. It’s a hobby. Probably better if it stays that way.”
    Chick’s lips flattened. “Bright girl. So you didn’t get with
him to—”
    “No.” With difficulty, she put a rein on her temper. “Do
people do that often?”
    “You wouldn’t believe how many.” And Zazz being single would
happily take them, then send them on to Chick. Great.
    “Not me. If he asks, I’ll tell him. If