Page 122 of Down Beat

You’re already a star to me. XX

Holy fuck—this is from before we made it. How long has he been toting this thing around?

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Shit, shit, shit. I jam the picture back in his bag, and ferret around for what I’m after. “Have you got any swag shit in here, man?”

Kris rips the canvas bag from my hands, buckling up the main compartment before tearing into a side pocket. He throws one of the picture postcards we had made at me, quickly followed by a pen.

“Just ask next time.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” I scrawl a quick message on the blank side of the card. “Yo, Robert. What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Becky.”

I add her name to the top, and then shove it at Kris. “Sign this.”

He reads what I wrote, and nods as he add his scrawl. “Cool.”

I watch him, gaze flicking to the damn bag of secrets at his feet. “Who is she?”

“None of your fucking business.” The card gets thrust my way while he stashes the pen.

“You never talk about anyone from home.”

“For a good fucking reason.” He closes his eyes again as he pops the buds back in, shrinking down into his hoodie.

Fucking dark horse. I lean forward and tap Robert on the shoulder before I slide the postcard on the front seat beside him. “For Becky.”

He glances down at it as we ease up outside the hotel, and then twists to look at me once stopped. “Hey, that’s.…” He sighs. “Ride is on me tonight.”

“No, man. We’ll pay.” I nudge Kris to let him know we’re here.

“No. No.” Robert waves a hand. “You’ve just made this old man’s night. I can’t wait to tell her who I had as a fare when I see her tomorrow. You two go on and enjoy yourselves.”

“Thanks, man.” I lock hands with the guy and give it a squeeze.

Kris pats him on the shoulder as I slide out. “Have a good night.”

Fuck yeah. As I look up at the glass doors into the lobby, I know that’s what I’m about to get—a good night. Fucking lift can’t carry me up there fast enough.

Look out, kitty, because here comes trouble.