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Lennon grabs Kelsey’s arm when she makes a fist. She says something but I can’t hear her as I rush toward them. Kelsey turns all her attention to Lennon. “She can’t treat you like that.”

“It’s okay.” Lennon’s trembling voice is barely decipherable until I’m practically on top of them. “I was slacking off. I should get back to work.”

She rubs angrily at her red and splotchy face as she runs past me. And Kodiak, who apparently was right behind me.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Kelsey glares at me. “You’re just going to let your fiancée treat people like that? I can’t believe this is who you are now.”

“He’s more of a man with me than he ever was with you.” Sonatina drapes herself against my side. Her touch makes me want to kill myself, but I fight my way through it.

Kodiak shoves past me. He grips her upper arms. “Come on, Scary Girl. Don’t waste your energy on them. I’ll get you some caffeine and a bag of Reese’s.”

“Let’s get out of here.” She nods, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me as he leads her away. “But I might need more than caffeine and candy to make me feel better.”

All that anger she’s aiming my way doesn’t hide the hurt or sadness. It just makes it harder to remember that what I’m doing is to protect her. I’ve lived through one of my brothers being falsely accused of a crime. And Rebel did jail time for a violent act that saved a friend’s life. The aftermath of that impacted us all. When he came home, he was distant, moody. He wasn’t himself. Not for a while.

I can’t let that happen to Kelsey. She’s already been through so much. “I’m doing what you want, Sonatina. Everything you’ve asked. Can’t you leave her alone?”

“She might be dating Kodiak, but she still thinks she has a claim on you.” Sonatina sneers. “She needs to realize that her claim is null and void before we get married. You belong to me.”

I shove her off me, then get in her face and make myself very clear, “I don’t love you. I don’t like you. I fucking hate you. I will never marry you. The only reason I’m going along with this is to protect her.”

“You will marry me.” One hip popped, she twirls a lock of her gold hair around her finger. “Because you don’t have any other choice.”

“You’re fucking delusional.” Could I let it come to that? Knowing that protecting Kelsey from her at that point would lose me any chance with her. My hands form fists, they shake so fucking hard. I want to destroy her. If she pushes me one more time... “I’m going to find Coffey. I need a new high E.”

I stalk away from her. I don’t need Coffey to fetch me a string. I have plenty of them in my backpack right there on the stage, but Sonatina can go fuck herself. I need a breather.

Since I can’t smoke in the stadium, I make my way out to the loading bays where the trucks are. Jasper follows.

Coffey keeps one of those punching bags on a stand set up during shows in case shit goes wrong and band or crew need to let off steam. That’s where I’m going.

Holding up a hand, I gesture for Jasper to give me some space. He falls back. I light a joint and drag the smoke into my lungs as I look around for the gloves. I can’t afford to break my hands hours before a show, but if I don’t punch something I’m not going to be able to get through tonight.

Or tomorrow night. Or however many nights it takes to get rid of Sonatina. I find them under a cardboard box full of extra pedals. I pull one of the white gloves out by its wrist strap.

Red flecks the white leather. It’s a dark glossy red.

Blood. Is that fucking blood?

I flick the joint on the ground and jostle aside the box, but the other glove isn’t where the first one is. Pulse racing, I climb into the truck. Frantically I move spare speakers and amps, boxes of cords...

Breathing hard, I freeze when I find the other glove.

It isn’t blood.

The other glove has flecks of the same red on the leather. In the center of the palm is a tube of cherry red lipstick worn down to the nub. And on the wall of the truck in that lipstick is a poem.

Face-to-face

Heart-to-heart

The next time I follow her

You and I will never part

“Holy fuck!” I stagger back and almost trip over a box. My shoulders hit the far wall, and I drop onto my ass.

Underneath the words is a photo of me. The image is dark, lit by streetlights. I’d just dropped my motorcycle like it meant nothing to me.