The Legend

You mean to tell me you ain’t ever heard the legend of Jenny and the Heartbreakers?

Well, sit back and let me spin you a tale.

The year was 1988, and Jenny and the Heartbreakers had already been living on the road for nearly two years.

They had played every smoky bar, sticky-floored nightclub, county fair, and half-empty theater willing to give five loud women a stage. They slept on buses, ate dinner from paper cartons, changed clothes in bathrooms no larger than broom closets, and learned to repair half their equipment with electrical tape and profanity.

They were good.

Everybody who saw them knew they were good.

But being good and being famous are two entirely different animals.

Then one afternoon, somewhere on the highway between Cleveland and Detroit, the five of them were scattered around their tour bus doing absolutely nothing glamorous.

Kit was asleep with her boots on the table.

Roxie was trying to repair a mangled cassette with a pencil.

Maxine was reading a music magazine she claimed to despise.

Dani was eating somebody else’s potato chips.

And Jenny was staring through the window, watching a gray Midwestern sky roll past.

The radio crackled.

A piano began to play.

Jenny froze.

Roxie looked up.

Kit opened one eye.

Then Jenny’s own voice came through the speakers.

For three full seconds, nobody moved.

Then all five women began screaming at once.

Their song.

Their song was on the radio.

Not at three in the morning on some tiny station nobody could find again. Not during a local-band hour tucked between the weather and farm reports.

It was playing in the middle of the afternoon.

“My Name Is Jenny.”

Their first smash hit.

The song that turned five exhausted women in a battered tour bus into one of the biggest rock bands in the country.

The song that made the whole world stop and ask:

Who is Jenny?

And once they heard her, they never forgot.

The guitars crashed in.

The drums began to pound.

And the legend took off running.

The years that followed came fast.

They went from smoky bars and cheap stages to packed clubs, record stores, magazine covers, and arenas. Their faces appeared on posters, shirts, records, cassettes, buttons, and anything else that could carry a lightning-split heart.

The battered black tour bus carried them from city to city. Fans waited at the doors. Roadies hauled equipment through the night. Every new crowd seemed larger than the one before it.

Behind the noise, they were still five women living together on the road, eating from cartons, playing cards between cities, and trying to understand how quickly the world had learned their names.

By 1988, Jenny and the Heartbreakers were no longer fighting to be heard.

They owned the night.

JENNY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS… 28 YEARS LATER

Deep in the woods, far enough from the nearest town that even the mail carrier considered the trip a personal favor, there stood a log cabin.

Beside it stood a tour bus.

The cabin looked cared for. Smoke sometimes curled from its stone chimney. Flower boxes sat beneath the windows, though most of the flowers had long ago surrendered to the deer. A pair of wind chimes hung beneath the porch roof, producing one soft, uncertain note whenever the breeze remembered them.

The bus was another matter.

It had not moved in years.

Dust coated the windows. Pine needles gathered around the tires. Moss had begun creeping along one wheel well, apparently under the impression that the vehicle now belonged to the forest.

Faded across its black side, beneath twenty-eight years of rain, sun, and neglect, were the words:

JENNY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS

Below them, barely visible through the dirt, ran another line:

HEARTS ON THE RADIO TOUR ’88

The old emblem remained between them.

A pink heart split by a black lightning bolt.

At twelve fourteen in the afternoon, the cabin door opened.

Jenny stepped onto the porch as though noon were a perfectly respectable time to greet the morning.

Her long hair hung loose and entirely unbrushed, wandering around her shoulders in every direction it pleased. She wore faded jeans, an old black tank top, and an oversized flannel shirt that had once belonged to somebody else and had outlived whatever relationship had brought it into her possession.

In one hand she carried a mug of coffee large enough to qualify as kitchenware.

Jenny stepped into the sunlight, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath of fresh woodland air.

Birds called from somewhere beyond the trees. The sky was bright blue. Sunlight spilled across the porch and turned the dust drifting through the air into gold.

Jenny considered the majesty of creation.

“Eh,” she said.

She reached into her shirt pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shook one free, and lit it.

After a long drag, she lowered herself into the old rocking chair beside the door.

The chair creaked beneath her.

Jenny drank her coffee.

She smoked.

She stared into the woods.

For nearly half an hour, absolutely nothing happened.

It was wonderful.

Then something rustled among the trees.

Jenny lowered her mug.

A branch snapped.

She leaned forward slightly, squinting through the shadows.

“Huh.”

Another rustle.

“Is that a deer?”

A dark shape moved between the trunks.

It was not a deer.

A kid emerged from the woods.

He looked about fourteen, though it was difficult to tell beneath all the clothing. He was large for his age, perhaps sixty pounds overweight, and dressed in layer after layer.

An oversized hoodie hung nearly to his knees. His pants were several sizes too big. Thick dark hair fell across his forehead and covered most of his face.

His hands were buried inside his pockets.

His head was down.

He was not looking toward the cabin. He did not seem to be looking anywhere at all. He simply trudged forward through the leaves, following no trail Jenny could see.

She watched him cross nearly half the yard before he finally noticed the porch.

He stopped so abruptly that his body seemed to arrive a second before the rest of him.

His head lifted.

He saw the cabin.

Then he saw Jenny sitting in the rocking chair.

His eyes widened.

Jenny raised one eyebrow.

“Hey there,” she called. “What’re you up to?”

The kid glanced behind himself, as though she might be speaking to some more suspicious person standing in the woods.

“You,” Jenny said. “The mysterious woodland drifter.”

His hands flew out of his pockets.

“Sorry.”

He immediately turned to leave.

“Hey, hold on. Hold on.”

He kept walking.

“C’mon,” Jenny called. “Come over here.”

He hesitated.

His shoulders drew inward.

Jenny waved him toward the porch.

“I don’t bite.”

The kid looked back at her.

Jenny considered this.

“Not before lunch, anyway.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

“Come on,” she said again, softer this time.

Reluctantly, he turned around.

Then, as though afraid he might lose his nerve, he hurried toward the cabin. His oversized pants swished around his legs with every step.

He stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs.

Jenny gestured upward with her cigarette.

“You can come up. No toll.”

He climbed one step and stopped again.

“Don’t be shy, darling. What’s your name?”

He looked down at his shoes.

“Jeff.”

“Jeff.” Jenny nodded solemnly, as though committing the name to an official record. “Glad to meet you. I’m Jenny.”

He glanced toward the cabin and then back toward the woods.

Jenny took another drink of coffee.

“So, Jeff. What’re you doing wandering around in my woods?”

“I just moved here.”

“Into my woods?”

“No.”

“That’s a relief. I charge rent.”

He shifted his weight.

“Across the road. My mom told me to get out of the house while they unpacked. There’s nothing around, so I just started walking.”

“And you ended up here.”

“Yeah.”

Jenny pointed past him, toward the far side of the trees.

“You over by what everybody used to call Jimmy’s place?”

Jeff followed the direction of her finger.

“The one with the green roof?”

“Used to be green. Mostly rust now.”

“Yeah. That one.”

Jenny sat back in her chair.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Jimmy finally came back?”

Jeff nodded.

“Your mom with him?”

“Yeah.”

“So they’re together.”

Another nod.

“Huh.” Jenny looked toward the trees as though Jimmy might appear and provide an explanation. “Good for Jimmy, I guess. Took him long enough to do something with that place.”

Jeff stood silently at the edge of the porch.

Jenny waited.

He made no move to leave, but he did not come any closer either.

“Well,” she said, “don’t be a stranger.”

“Okay.”

“Plenty of exciting things to do around here.”

Jeff hesitated.

Then, displaying a degree of courage that appeared to surprise even him, he asked:

“What’re you doing?”

Jenny looked at him over the rim of her mug.

“Well, you’re rather nosy.”

His face reddened.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

She finished the last of her coffee and glanced around the side of the cabin.

“I was thinking about cleaning my tour bus.”

Jeff looked up.

“Tour bus?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a tour bus?”

Jenny rose from the rocking chair. She stretched, took one final drag from her cigarette, and crushed it into the old coffee can she used as an ashtray.

“C’mon. I’ll show you.”

She carried her empty mug to the porch railing, set it down, and headed around the cabin.

Jeff followed several steps behind.

They passed a woodshed, a stack of split logs, and an old wheelbarrow filled with rainwater.

Then the trees opened enough for him to see the enormous black vehicle resting behind the cabin.

Jeff stopped.

The bus seemed even bigger up close. Its dark windows reflected the surrounding trees. Dust lay thick across its side, but the faded lettering remained visible beneath it.

JENNY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS.

Jeff stared at the name.

Then at the lightning-split heart.

Then at Jenny.

“Wow.”

Jenny placed both hands on her hips.

“That’s about the reaction I was hoping for.”

“What is this?”

“My tour bus.”

“You were in a band?”

Jenny turned slowly toward him.

“Was?”

Jeff’s eyes widened again.

“Are you in a band?”

“Baby,” Jenny said, “I am the band.”

She held the pose for precisely two seconds before breaking into laughter.

Jeff looked from her to the bus.

“You’ve seriously never heard of me?” Jenny asked.

He shook his head.

Jenny pressed a hand against her chest.

“Brutal. Absolutely brutal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. They don’t play us much on the radio anymore. Apparently the public has moved on to music made after you were born. Selfish bastards.”

She ran one hand along the side of the bus, leaving a long clean streak through the dust.

“See this?”

“The dirt?”

“History.”

“It looks like dirt.”

“History often does.”

Jenny walked toward the door.

“Well, the outside isn’t the worst part.”

She pulled the handle.

The folding door opened reluctantly, releasing a low metallic groan and a breath of air that had been trapped inside for far too long.

The smell struck them both.

Jeff recoiled.

Jenny stepped back.

They stared into the darkness.

“Good Lord,” Jenny said.

Jeff covered his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I know, kid.”

“What happened in there?”

“Rock and roll.”

“That smells like something died.”

“Also possible.”

Jenny climbed the first step, reached inside, and flipped a switch.

Nothing happened.

She flipped it again.

A small amber light flickered on above the aisle, illuminating a narrow interior filled with dust, discarded blankets, old paper cups, empty bottles, cassette cases, crumbling magazines, and several objects Jenny chose not to identify immediately.

Jeff remained outside.

Jenny looked back.

“Come on in.”

He shook his head.

“Wise decision.”

She stepped farther inside, then stopped and surveyed the remains of her former life.

The couches were still upholstered in dark red fabric. Faded curtains hung beside the windows. A tiny television sat above a VCR. An old leather jacket had been draped over one chair for so long that it appeared to have become part of the furniture.

Jeff finally climbed onto the bottom step and peered inside.

“When was the last time you cleaned it?”

Jenny considered the question.

“Well, the last time anybody used it, there was a fair amount of celebrating.”

“When?”

She counted silently.

“Fifteen years ago.”

His eyes widened.

“You left all this here for fifteen years?”

“I’ve been meaning to get around to it.”

“For fifteen years?”

“I have a complicated schedule.”

Jeff looked toward the quiet cabin, the rocking chair, and the empty yard.

Jenny pointed at him.

“Don’t judge me in my own bus.”

He lowered his sleeve from his nose just long enough to ask:

“Why are you cleaning it today?”

“I woke up inspired.”

She looked around at the bus again.

The job was enormous.

Then she looked at Jeff.

A slow smile spread across her face.

Jeff noticed it.

“What?”

“You arrived at an interesting moment.”

He took one step backward.

Jenny pointed toward the mountain of debris.

“I think the universe sent me a helper.”

“No.”

“I’ll pay you.”

He stopped retreating.

“How much?”

“Twenty bucks.”

Jeff studied the bus.

Jenny studied Jeff.

“Forty,” she said.

His head snapped toward her.

“Forty dollars?”

“And lunch.”

“What kind of lunch?”

“I don’t know. Whatever’s in my refrigerator.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“Kid, I used to feed five musicians and eighteen roadies out of gas stations. I’ll come up with something.”

Jeff looked into the bus again.

The smell had not improved.

He pulled his sleeves over both hands.

“Forty dollars?”

“Cash.”

“And lunch?”

“Within the generally accepted definition of food.”

He took another cautious step inside.

Jenny held out her hand.

“Deal?”

Jeff looked at it.

Then at her.

He reached out and shook her hand.

“Deal.”

Jenny grinned.

“Well, congratulations, Jeff. You are now officially employed by Jenny and the Heartbreakers.”

He looked around at the ruined bus.

“Do the other Heartbreakers know?”

“Nope.”

“Are there still other Heartbreakers?”

Jenny’s smile changed, just slightly.

But only for a moment.

“Of course there are.”

She picked up a black trash bag, snapped it open, and handed it to him.

“They’re just not here.”

Then she opened another bag for herself.

“All right, kid. Let’s see what survived the tour.”

Pancakes and a Leather Jacket

Two hours later, Jenny stood in the middle of the tour bus with both hands braced against her knees.

Her hair, already unbrushed when the day began, now looked as though it had survived a wind tunnel. Dust streaked her arms. Something sticky clung to the bottom of one boot, and she had made the executive decision never to investigate what it was.

Jeff stood beside her holding a half-full trash bag.

He looked around the bus, completely baffled.

“I can’t believe it’s still dirty.”

Jenny slowly straightened and surveyed the damage.

They had filled six garbage bags, uncovered most of one couch, and cleared a path from the front door to the tiny kitchenette. Somehow, the bus looked only marginally less abandoned than it had two hours earlier.

Jenny began to laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re done.”

“But we’re not done.”

“We’re done today.”

She took the bag from him and dropped it beside the others.

“You did a great job, kid. This was way more than I should’ve asked anybody to do on their first day.”

Jeff looked toward the back of the bus, where several mysterious piles remained untouched.

“There’s still a lot.”

“There’s a reason I didn’t clean it for fifteen years.”

She pulled forty dollars from her pocket and handed it to him.

“Here. You earned every cent.”

Jeff stared at the money before carefully folding it and slipping it into his pocket.

Jenny clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here before the bus grows teeth.”

They stepped outside into the fresh evening air.

Jenny filled her lungs and exhaled dramatically.

“Trees,” she said. “Beautiful, wonderful, non-toxic trees.”

Jeff tugged at his filthy hoodie. Dust rose from it in a small cloud.

Jenny looked him over.

“You like pancakes, kid?”

His head came up.

“Yeah. I love pancakes.”

“Excellent, because I make a mean pancake.”

They headed back toward the cabin.

By the time they reached the porch, Jenny had decided that neither one of them should be allowed near upholstered furniture.

She opened the door and pointed Jeff directly toward the bathroom.

“Okay, look. You’re filthy.”

Jeff glanced down at himself.

“Not your fault,” she added. “That’s entirely on me and fifteen years of deeply irresponsible bus ownership.”

She looked down the hallway.

“You should wash up. Take a shower, if you want. I probably have some clothes around here that’ll fit while yours are in the laundry.”

Jeff looked uncertain.

Jenny softened her voice.

“The bathroom door locks. Towels are in the cabinet. I’ll leave some clean clothes outside, and I’ll be in the kitchen making pancakes.”

The offer seemed to catch him by surprise.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

Jenny found an old pair of jeans, a clean black T-shirt, and a soft flannel shirt. All of them were large enough to be comfortable. She left them folded on a stool outside the bathroom door.

A few minutes later, the door opened a crack.

A bundled mass of dirty clothing appeared through it.

Jenny accepted the pile.

“Good grief, kid.”

“They didn’t smell like that before.”

“I believe you. The tour bus has enhanced them.”

She carried everything to the washing machine and added detergent.

Then she added more detergent.

Then, after considering what had lived inside that bus, she added enough detergent to wash the wardrobe of a small marching band.

The machine churned ominously.

“Good luck,” Jenny told it.

Then she headed for the kitchen.

The cabin was surprisingly neat, and the kitchen was the neatest part of all. Jenny’s cupboards contained an impressive variety of breakfast foods: pancake mix, flour, oats, several kinds of syrup, waffle ingredients, bacon, sausage, eggs, and enough coffee to keep a touring company awake through three consecutive states.

She owned instant pancake mix.

She ignored it.

Instead, Jenny found the flour, cracked eggs into a bowl, melted butter, measured milk, and made the batter from scratch. Once she became invested in feeding someone, half measures offended her.

Soon bacon hissed in one pan while pancakes rose golden and soft on the griddle.

The bathroom door opened.

Jeff stepped into the hallway wearing Jenny’s jeans and one of her old black T-shirts. Both were still a little oversized, but they fit him better than the layers he had arrived in. His hair was damp, hanging loosely around his face.

Jenny glanced over from the stove.

“Well, look at you.”

Jeff tugged nervously at the shirt.

“Is this okay?”

“Better than okay.”

He looked down at the faded lettering across the chest.

JENNY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS

Below it was the familiar pink heart split by a black lightning bolt.

“I get to keep it?”

“You get to keep it. That shirt has been sitting in a drawer since before you were born. It’s thrilled to have a purpose.”

She stacked several pancakes onto a plate and placed it on the table.

“Come on, darling. Sit down.”

Jeff saw the food.

A grin spread across his face.

Then his stomach growled so loudly that Jenny looked toward the windows.

“Was that you, or is there a bear outside?”

Jeff turned red.

Jenny laughed and set bacon beside the pancakes.

“Dig in. That’s real maple syrup, too. I spare no expense for my employees.”

Jeff poured syrup over the stack, cut an enormous piece, and put most of it into his mouth at once.

His eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Jenny leaned against the counter.

“Good?”

He nodded rapidly while trying to chew.

“These are awesome.”

“I thought you’d dig ’em.”

“These are so good.”

Jenny disappeared down the hallway.

“Keep eating,” she called. “I’ll be right back.”

Jeff did not require further encouragement.

By the time Jenny returned, he had already made a substantial dent in the pancakes and acquired a strip of bacon in his other hand.

She carried several folded shirts over one arm.

“All right, kid. You did excellent work today, I more or less destroyed your clothes, and I want you to come back tomorrow.”

She placed the shirts on the chair beside him.

“A few leftovers from the old touring days. You can have those.”

Jeff wiped his mouth.

“I get to keep all of them?”

“You get to keep all of them. I’ve got boxes of the things.”

Jenny smiled.

“But that’s not the actual surprise.”

She reached behind the chair and lifted a black leather jacket.

Jeff stopped chewing.

The leather had softened with age, but it was still beautiful. Across the back was the emblem of Jenny and the Heartbreakers: the pink heart divided by a jagged black lightning bolt. Beneath it ran the faded lettering:

HEARTS ON THE RADIO TOUR ’88

A column of cities and dates covered the lower back.

Jenny held it out.

“Here you go, buddy.”

Jeff stared at it.

“What?”

“You earned it. Or you will have by the time we finish that bus.”

She laughed.

His mouth was still full of pancake.

“For me?”

“Unless there’s another filthy fourteen-year-old working for me today.”

He swallowed hurriedly.

“But this is yours.”

“I know. That’s why I’m allowed to give it away.”

He touched the sleeve carefully.

Jenny gave the jacket a little shake.

“Come on. Try it.”

Jeff stood and slipped one arm into it, then the other. Jenny helped pull it over his shoulders and adjusted the collar.

It fit remarkably well.

“Hold on,” she said. “This part is important.”

She popped the collar.

“That’s what the cool kids do.”

“Do they?”

“They did in 1988, which is the last year anybody made a good decision.”

Jenny guided him toward the full-length mirror in the living room. She had installed it years earlier for checking stage outfits and had never found a reason to remove it.

Jeff looked at himself.

The old band shirt, clean jeans, and black leather jacket worked surprisingly well together.

Jenny reached over and pushed some damp hair away from his face.

“There.”

A smile slowly appeared.

Jenny pointed at his reflection.

“Look at that, kiddo. You’re a rocker now.”

Jeff turned slightly, trying to see the emblem on the back.

The smile grew.

“All right,” Jenny said. “Enough fashion. Pancake time.”

They returned to the kitchen.

Jenny was not shy about eating. She might forget meals entirely when left alone, but once food appeared in front of her, she approached it with the seriousness of a professional assignment.

Between them, they demolished a startling number of pancakes, four strips of bacon each, and most of the maple syrup.

At last, Jenny pushed her plate away and leaned back.

“I don’t know about you, kid, but I am stuffed.”

Jeff slumped in his chair, one hand over his stomach.

“Me too.”

“Excellent. Means I did my job.”

Jenny looked at the clock.

“Good grief. It’s nearly six.”

Jeff followed her gaze.

“You’ve been here all day. Your mom and Jimmy are probably wondering whether the forest swallowed you.”

“You should probably head back before they send out a search party.”

Jeff nodded.

“Your clothes might still be swimming in detergent, so leave them here tonight. Wear what you’ve got.”

He glanced down at the jacket.

“This too?”

“Especially that.”

Jenny stood and began gathering plates.

“I need you back tomorrow, bright and early. We still have half a civilization buried inside that bus.”

“I’ll be here at eight.”

Jenny nearly dropped a plate.

“Eight?”

Jeff laughed.

“Yes. Eight in the morning.”

“No, no, no. Noon, kid. Noon. There’s nothing inside that bus worth seeing before noon.”

“All right. Noon.”

Jenny pointed toward the door with a dish towel.

“Exit stage right.”

Jeff headed for the porch, then stopped and looked back.

“Thanks, Jenny.”

She waved one hand as though it were nothing.

“Get home safe.”

He stepped outside wearing the Heartbreakers jacket.

Jenny watched through the window as he crossed the yard and disappeared between the trees, the pink lightning-split heart bright across his back.

Biohazard Rock and Fish Pizza

At almost exactly noon the next day, a black streak came flying out of the woods.

Jenny had just settled into her rocking chair with her coffee when she caught sight of it racing between the trees.

For one startled second, she thought some large animal was charging the cabin.

Then the shape burst into the clearing.

It was Jeff.

He was not quite running and not quite skipping, but performing some enthusiastic combination of the two. He still wore the old Heartbreakers shirt, jeans, and black leather tour jacket Jenny had given him the day before. The bright pink heart and black lightning bolt flashed across his back whenever the sunlight caught it.

Jenny began to laugh.

“Would ya look at that? Perky at the crack of noon!”

Jeff startled so badly that he nearly tripped.

He recovered, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and hurried the rest of the way toward the porch with a broad smile.

“All right,” he announced. “I’m here. I didn’t want to be late.”

“You’re not late, kid. You’re dangerously punctual.”

Jenny rose from the rocking chair.

Today she had prepared.

Several large plastic bags sat on the porch beside rolls of tape, gloves, dust masks, disposable shoe covers, and two cheap plastic rain ponchos with hoods.

Jeff stared at the supplies.

“What’s all this?”

“We’re going in like a biohazard team this time.”

He laughed.

“Is that right?”

“Yesterday we were amateurs. Today we respect the enemy.”

Jenny handed him one of the ponchos.

“Put this on.”

Jeff pulled it over his clothes while Jenny did the same. She taped the plastic loosely around his wrists and ankles, slipped protective covers over his shoes, and gave him a pair of rubber gloves.

Then she stepped back to inspect him.

He looked like someone preparing to clean a nuclear reactor during a rainstorm.

Jenny nodded approvingly.

“Very stylish.”

“You look ridiculous too.”

“I make ridiculous look expensive.”

She taped her own sleeves and ankles, then held up two dust masks.

“And now, the finishing touch.”

Once they had covered their faces, Jenny pointed dramatically toward the tour bus.

“Let’s go.”

They marched across the yard in matching plastic suits, each one making loud crinkling noises with every step.

Inside the bus, the stale odor was still present, but the masks and plastic made the work considerably more bearable.

They resumed their excavation.

Garbage disappeared into bags. Old blankets were dragged outside. Dust was swept into clouds, then trapped with wet rags. They discovered the floor beneath the kitchenette, two additional cushions, and an entire storage compartment filled with empty cassette cases.

After about an hour, Jeff stopped and surveyed their progress.

“All right,” he said. “This looks sort of better.”

Jenny looked around.

The bus had advanced from public health emergency to merely deeply filthy.

“You’re right,” she said. “We have achieved ‘not very good.’”

Jeff laughed.

“That’s a major improvement.”

“A tremendous leap forward from catastrophe.”

He wiped his forehead with the back of one plastic sleeve.

“I could almost sit on the couch now.”

“Let’s not get reckless.”

Jenny looked toward the front of the bus.

“I’ll tell you what the problem is.”

“What?”

“This is way too boring.”

She rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out an old black boombox. The casing was scratched, one speaker grille had a dent, and the battery compartment was being held shut with several layers of silver tape.

Jeff eyed it suspiciously.

“Does that still work?”

“Watch and learn.”

Jenny set it on the counter, plugged it into an extension cord, and pressed the power button.

Nothing happened.

She slapped the side.

The display flickered.

“There we go.”

“That doesn’t seem safe.”

“Neither was most of the eighties.”

She dug through a box of old cassettes and selected one with handwritten lettering across the label.

Jeff leaned closer.

“What is that?”

“Jenny and the Heartbreakers.”

He looked at her.

“Really?”

“You said you’d never heard us.”

“No.”

“Well, you’re about to get an hour of concentrated education.”

Jenny pushed the cassette into the machine.

The boombox clicked.

For half a second, there was only static.

Then guitars exploded through the speakers.

The music was bright, loud, and fast. Some songs charged forward with snapping drums and rough-edged guitars. Others had pounding piano, sharp horn breaks, enormous choruses, and the kind of beat that made it almost impossible to stand still.

Jenny turned the volume far past what the little boombox had any reasonable hope of surviving.

Jeff looked confused.

Then delighted.

Jenny grabbed a broom and began sweeping in time with the drums.

“Come on, kid! Put some rhythm in it!”

They cleaned to the music.

Jenny sang along while dragging bags toward the door. Jeff began nodding his head as he scrubbed the kitchenette. During one especially loud chorus, they both used their brooms as guitars until Jenny nearly knocked over the boombox.

By the time the tape clicked off, they had accomplished enough cleaning that the bus merely looked very dirty.

Jenny removed her mask and stared around in disbelief.

“I can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“We got it all the way to awful.”

Jeff pulled off his mask.

“Way better than yesterday.”

“You can almost see furniture.”

“I told you. I could probably sit on that now.”

“Not until we confirm your vaccinations.”

They stepped outside and peeled off their protective gear.

Jenny opened a fresh trash bag.

“All right. Throw it all in.”

They dropped the masks, gloves, shoe covers, and crackling plastic ponchos into the bag.

Jeff stretched his arms.

“This was way better.”

“No emergency showers required.”

Jenny reached into her pocket and handed him two twenties.

“Here you go.”

Jeff took the money.

“Thanks.”

“So,” Jenny said, “what did you think of the music?”

“I liked it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I really did.”

Jenny folded her arms, pretending to conduct a serious interview.

“Which song was your favorite?”

“The third one.”

“The third one?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny nodded.

“That’s a good one. Lotta attitude.”

She leaned against the bus.

“You ever play music?”

Jeff shook his head.

“I mean physically,” Jenny said. “Guitar, piano, anything like that?”

“No. Never played anything.”

“All right.”

She pushed herself away from the bus.

“We’re gonna fix that.”

Jeff’s face lit up.

Jenny pointed at his leather jacket.

“You can’t walk around dressed like a Heartbreaker and not know how to rock.”

His smile became enormous.

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “I thought you might like that.”

She began walking toward the cabin.

“I don’t feel like making pancakes today. Pizza all right?”

“Oh, I love pizza. That’s my favorite.”

“Thought so. I like anchovies on mine.”

Jeff frowned.

“What are anchovies?”

“Tiny salty fish.”

“Fish pizza?”

He squinted at her as though she had proposed spreading pond water over the crust.

“Delicious little salty fish.”

“You put fish on pizza?”

“You ever tried it?”

“No. I didn’t even know what anchovies were.”

Jenny opened the cabin door.

“Tell you what. I’ll order one big fish pizza and one smaller normal pizza as insurance.”

“Why’s the fish pizza bigger?”

“Because I know what I’m doing.”

Jeff remained unconvinced.

“You can take the regular one home afterward if you don’t like the anchovies.”

“All right.”

“Pepsi okay?”

“Yeah. I like Pepsi.”

“Good. We were sponsored by Pepsi. I’ve got coupons.”

“From when?”

Jenny paused.

“Coupons don’t understand time.”

She telephoned the nearest pizza place and ordered two pies. The delivery charge was considerable, but the cabin was so far into the woods that Jenny had learned to tip heavily if she ever wanted a driver to return.

While they waited, she poured herself another coffee.

The pizza arrived surprisingly quickly.

Jenny gave the driver an extra ten dollars for locating the cabin without becoming part of a search-and-rescue operation.

She carried the boxes into the kitchen and opened the larger one.

The anchovies glistened across the melted cheese.

Jeff leaned over it.

“It smells really strong.”

“That’s flavor announcing itself.”

Jenny placed a slice on his plate.

“All right, kid. Your first fish pizza. This may ruin ordinary pizza for you forever.”

Jeff lifted the slice cautiously.

He took one bite.

His eyes widened.

“Oh, it’s salty.”

“Yeah, but good salty.”

He chewed.

Then began nodding.

“Yeah.”

Jenny pointed at him triumphantly.

“I knew you’d dig it. All rockers love fish pizza. Sort of a rule.”

She twisted the cap from a two-liter bottle of Pepsi and took a drink directly from it.

Jeff stared.

Jenny lowered the bottle.

“My bad.”

She fetched two glasses, poured the soda properly, then took another drink from her cup with exaggerated dignity.

“Civilization restored.”

They each grabbed another slice.

Jenny picked up her plate.

“All right, kid. Let’s go.”

Jeff looked toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“To the studio.”

“The studio?”

“Yep. My sanctuary.”

Jenny led him down the hallway.

“This cabin wasn’t originally a retirement home for a woman allergic to mornings. I bought it because I needed somewhere quiet to write music.”

At the far end of the hall stood an ordinary wooden door.

There was no sign on it. No decoration. Nothing to suggest what lay beyond.

Jenny placed her hand on the knob.

“You ready?”

Jeff nodded.

She opened the door.

The room beyond was enormous.

Jeff stopped in the doorway.

The studio occupied nearly an entire wing of the cabin. Thick acoustic panels covered the walls. A professional mixing desk sat behind a broad glass partition. Microphones waited on stands. Cables had been coiled neatly against the baseboards.

Instruments filled the room.

Electric guitars gleamed from wall racks. Acoustic guitars rested in stands. Several basses hung beside them. Two saxophones sat in open cases. Keyboards lined one wall, and a polished piano stood in the corner.

At the far end of the studio, beneath a row of carefully positioned microphones, waited a complete drum kit.

Jenny swept one arm across the room.

“Welcome to the sanctuary.”

Jeff stepped inside slowly.

“Wow.”

“Don’t touch anything yet. Your hands are still greasy.”

He held them up.

“I washed them.”

“You ate anchovies afterward.”

Jeff stared at the guitars, microphones, amplifiers, and control board.

“You really are a rock star.”

Jenny tossed her hair back and struck a dramatic pose.

“Told you.”

She leaned against the mixing desk.

“So, you’ve never played an instrument?”

“No.”

“Well, look around. What strikes your fancy?”

Jeff began walking through the room.

“Just look for now,” Jenny added. “We establish desire before we risk property damage.”

He paused beside an electric guitar with a sharply angled body.

Jenny followed his gaze.

“Oh! All right. A shredder, eh?”

Jeff moved toward a bass guitar.

Jenny nodded.

“Not a bad choice. Every band needs a bassist. Everybody wants lead guitar, but nobody appreciates the bassist until the bassist doesn’t show up.”

Jeff looked at it for another moment.

Then his attention shifted.

His eyes settled on the drum kit.

Jenny saw the change immediately.

She smiled.

“Oh, I know that look.”

Jeff moved closer to the drums.

Jenny pointed to the slice of pizza still in his hand.

“Put that down, kid.”

He placed his plate on a nearby table.

“Wash your hands again.”

He hurried toward the small studio sink.

Jenny followed him with her eyes, then glanced at the drums.

“All right,” she called. “Get yourself settled behind the kit.”

Jeff returned and climbed carefully onto the drummer’s stool.

Jenny studied the way he sat there, both excited and uncertain.

“Hold on,” she said. “Before we begin.”

Jeff looked up.

“You’ve never played drums before?”

He shook his head.

“Not even once?”

“No.”

Jenny picked up a pair of drumsticks and held them out to him.

“Good.”

Jeff blinked.

“Good?”

“No bad habits to break.”

He accepted the sticks.

Jenny smiled.

“Let’s find out how much noise you’ve got in you.”

The Cowbell

“All right, kiddo,” Jenny said. “Give it a whop.”

Jeff looked up at her, confused.

“Hit the drums.”

“Oh.”

He lifted one stick and tapped the snare.

The crack echoed through the studio.

Jeff’s eyebrows rose.

He hit it again, harder this time.

Then he turned toward the nearest cymbal and struck it.

The bright metallic crash rang through the room and hung in the air.

“Ooh.”

Jenny smiled.

“Yeah. Pretty nice, huh?”

Jeff began experimenting.

He struck the toms one after another, then returned to the snare. He tapped one cymbal, then another, listening to the different sounds as though each drum had just introduced itself.

“There you go,” Jenny said. “Now don’t forget the bass drum. Put your foot on that pedal.”

Jeff looked down and positioned his foot.

He pressed.

Thump.

He did it again.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“That’s it,” Jenny said. “Feel that?”

Jeff nodded.

The bass drum vibrated through the floor beneath him.

“You think you wanna be a double-bass kid, or a single-bass kid?”

He stared at her.

“What?”

“Some drummers use one bass drum. Some rockers like two.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes one enormous drum isn’t enough.”

Jeff looked at the empty space beside the kit.

“Do I need two?”

“We’ll start with one. Later, if you decide your feet aren’t making enough trouble, we’ll add the second.”

She waved toward the kit.

“Go ahead. Keep exploring.”

Jeff resumed hitting the drums.

At first, there was no pattern to it. He struck whatever happened to be nearest, stomping the pedal now and then and crashing the cymbals whenever the impulse took him.

It was chaotic.

It was loud.

It was glorious.

Jenny folded her arms and watched.

“All right. Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Then her expression changed.

“Hold on.”

She crossed the room and picked up a small metal instrument mounted beside the drums.

“You see this?”

Jeff examined it.

“You know what it is?”

“No.”

Jenny held it with almost religious reverence.

“This is singularly the greatest percussion instrument the world has ever known.”

Jeff’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“The cowbell.”

Jeff stared at it.

“That?”

“That.”

Jenny placed it back on its mount and handed him a stick.

“Go ahead.”

Jeff struck it.

Clonk.

He struck it again.

Clonk. Clonk.

Jenny nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, huh?”

“It’s kinda nice.”

“Kinda nice? Some of the greatest songs in history have cowbell.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. That’s why we used so much of it.”

She laughed.

“Try the snare, then the cowbell.”

Jeff hit the snare.

Crack.

Then the cowbell.

Clonk.

He repeated it several times.

Crack. Clonk. Crack. Clonk.

Jenny began bobbing her head.

“There ya go. You’re already improving civilization.”

Jeff smiled.

“All right,” she said. “Now put some oomph into it. You’re still a little timid.”

Jeff hit the snare harder.

Jenny tilted her head.

“I am hitting it hard.”

“You’re sort of hitting it.”

She stepped closer.

“Scoot over.”

Jeff moved aside on the stool, and Jenny sat behind the kit.

She adjusted the sticks in her hands, pressed her foot against the bass pedal, and began to play.

A steady groove filled the room.

Bass drum.

Snare.

Hi-hat.

Bass drum.

Snare.

Cowbell.

Jeff’s head began to move with it almost immediately.

Jenny glanced at him.

“You feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the rhythm section. Drums and bass. Everybody else gets to pose and make dramatic faces, but you two are the reason the song doesn’t fall down.”

She played the groove once more, then stopped.

“That’s what rhythm does. It gives everybody else somewhere to stand.”

Jeff looked at the drum kit differently now.

Jenny turned back toward it.

“And when I say put some effort into it, I mean this.”

She raised the sticks.

Then she attacked the drums.

The sound exploded through the studio.

She struck the snare with enough force to make Jeff jump, hammered the toms, drove the bass pedal into the floor, and crashed through the cymbals with wild, joyous violence.

Her hair flew around her face.

Her arms became a blur.

She played as though the drums had borrowed money from her and refused to pay it back.

Jeff stood frozen, watching.

Jenny finished with one enormous cymbal crash.

The sound rolled through the studio.

She looked at him, breathing hard.

“See that?”

Jeff nodded.

“All right. Get in there.”

He sat behind the kit again.

He raised the sticks and began to play.

“Harder!” Jenny called.

He struck harder.

“Harder!”

Jeff drove the sticks down with more force.

“That’s it! Keep going!”

He hit the snare, the toms, the cymbals. His foot pounded against the bass pedal.

At first, the rhythm was uneven.

Then something began to take shape.

Not a song.

Not yet.

But something real.

Jenny stood beside him, watching closely.

“Not bad, kiddo. Not bad.”

Jeff slowed.

Jenny’s voice softened.

“But if you really wanna do this, there’s something you need to understand.”

Jeff looked up.

“Drums are fantastic because they don’t care what you’re feeling.”

She placed one hand on the back of his stool.

“When I’m sad, I play.”

She tapped the snare with one finger.

“When I’m angry, I play harder.”

Her smile faded slightly.

“And when the rage is pouring outta me and I don’t know where else to put it, I come in here and beat those drums like they owe me money.”

Jeff stared at the kit.

“You understand?”

He nodded, though Jenny was not certain he did.

She rested one hand gently against the back of his head.

“All right,” she said. “Go ahead.”

For a moment, Jeff did nothing.

Then he lifted the sticks.

He struck the snare.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

The next hit was harder.

Then came the toms.

The bass drum.

The cymbals.

His whole body began moving.

He stopped trying to make the drums sound right.

He simply hit them.

Harder.

Faster.

The noise filled the studio.

His dark hair fell completely across his face. His shoulders tightened. His hands clenched around the sticks.

He hit the drums again and again.

Jenny’s smile disappeared.

There was pain in the sound now.

Far too much pain for someone his age.

Her eyes began to sting.

She blinked it away and forced encouragement into her voice.

“There you go.”

Jeff kept playing.

“That’s it, kid. Let it out.”

The sticks hammered against the drumheads.

“Keep going.”

He played until there was no pattern left, only sound.

He played until his arms began to shake.

He played until the anger gave way to exhaustion.

Nearly half an hour passed before the sticks finally slipped from his hands and landed across the snare.

Jeff sat hunched over the kit, breathing hard.

He did not speak.

His hair covered his face, but Jenny could see his shoulders trembling.

She crossed the room without saying anything.

She placed her arms around him.

“There you go,” she whispered.

Jeff pressed one hand against his face.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

She kissed the top of his head.

“You did great.”

He remained quiet.

Jenny lifted his chin just enough to look at him, but she did not make him hold her gaze.

“I told you you’d like fish pizza.”

A small laugh escaped him despite everything.

Jenny smiled.

“See? I’m right about all kinds of things.”

She picked up one of the fallen sticks and placed it across his lap.

“I think you’re gonna make a great drummer, kid.”

Jeff looked down at the drum kit.

“You really think so?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“That’s not true.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

“You said the tour bus had history in it.”

“It did.”

“It had garbage in it.”

“History and garbage overlap more than people admit.”

Jeff smiled again.

Jenny let the quiet settle for a moment.

Then she asked, “Do your parents know you come over here?”

Jeff shook his head.

“No?”

“They’ve been busy.”

“They say anything about the jacket?”

Another shake of his head.

“They didn’t see me.”

Jenny’s expression changed, though she tried not to let it show.

“Oh.”

She glanced toward the darkening windows.

“Well, all right.”

Jeff slid carefully off the drum stool.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He sounded disappointed that the day was ending.

Jenny handed him the drumsticks.

“Crack of noon. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

He started toward the studio door.

Jenny called after him.

“Hey. Don’t you want your pizza?”

Jeff turned quickly and reached for the anchovy box.

Jenny pulled it away.

“No, no, no. Your regular, ordinary pizza.”

His face fell.

Jenny laughed.

“Oh, look at that. One day and you’re already a fish-pizza convert.”

She opened the plain pizza box, then transferred the remaining anchovy slices into it.

“There. Half respectable, half delicious.”

Jeff accepted the box.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Your house is gonna smell like anchovies for three days.”

Jenny picked up the Pepsi bottle.

“Pepsi stays here, though.”

She twisted off the cap and took a long drink directly from the two-liter.

Jeff pointed at her.

“I thought you said that was bad.”

“I said it was bad when company was watching.”

“I’m still here.”

Jenny lowered the bottle.

“Exit stage right, drummer.”

Jeff laughed, tucked the pizza box under one arm, and headed for the door with the drumsticks in his other hand.

Jenny stood in the hallway and watched him leave.

Just before he reached the porch steps, he turned around.

“Jenny?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can I really come back tomorrow?”

She leaned against the doorway.

“I’m counting on it.”

Jeff smiled, then disappeared into the woods carrying pizza, drumsticks, and the first rhythm he had ever made.

The Jacket at the Door

The pounding began at eleven thirty at night.

Not knocking.

Pounding.

Jenny woke with her face pressed into the pillow and one arm hanging over the side of the bed. For several seconds, she had no idea what the noise was or why the ceiling appeared to be in the wrong place.

The pounding came again.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Jenny lifted her head.

“What in the hell…”

She squinted at the clock.

Eleven thirty.

Practically midnight.

Another series of blows rattled the front door.

“All right! I hear you!”

Jenny dragged herself out of bed, pulled on a shirt, slipped her feet into her slippers, and staggered down the hallway with her hair hanging loose around her face.

“Who pounds on somebody’s door at this hour?”

She unlocked it and pulled it open.

Jimmy stood on the porch beneath the yellow glow of the porch light.

He was enormous, at least six feet six, built like a man who had spent his entire life assuming size settled every disagreement. His jaw was clenched. His face was red.

In one hand, he held the black leather Heartbreakers jacket.

In the other, he held the shirts Jenny had given Jeff.

“Did you give him this?”

Jenny blinked against the porch light.

“What?”

Jimmy shook the jacket at her.

“Did you give him this?”

Jenny’s grogginess began burning away.

“Yes. I gave it to him. Why are you standing on my porch waving it in my face?”

“Don’t talk to me that way.”

Jenny stared at him.

“You came to my house.”

Jimmy’s mouth twisted. He told her not to give Jeff any more of “that kind of crap,” then spat an ugly word for boys he considered insufficiently masculine.

For a moment, Jenny did not move.

The forest seemed to fall silent behind him.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Jimmy repeated the hateful idea without quite repeating the word. “He already prances around enough. I caught that kid wearing his mother’s dress once. I was ready to throw him out then, but his mother begged me not to.”

Jenny’s face became very still.

Jimmy tossed one of the shirts against her chest.

“So keep your pathetic has-been clothes away from him.”

Something hot and ancient rose inside Jenny.

Not embarrassment.

Not fear.

Rage.

“Hold on,” she said.

She closed the door.

Jimmy stood outside, apparently satisfied that the conversation was over.

Inside, Jenny crossed the living room, opened a cabinet, and removed the shotgun she kept there for coyotes, bears, and anything else foolish enough to threaten her home.

She checked it.

Then she returned to the door.

Jimmy had barely begun pounding again when Jenny opened it.

The shotgun rested firmly in her hands, pointed toward the floor between them.

Jimmy froze.

Jenny stood three feet away, no longer sleepy.

“Say it again.”

The color drained from his face.

“What?”

“You heard me. Call that child that word one more time.”

Jimmy dropped the shirts.

The jacket followed, collapsing onto the porch boards.

Jenny’s voice remained low.

“Don’t you ever call him that again. Don’t you humiliate him. Don’t you threaten to throw him out. And don’t you come onto my property thinking you can speak to me however you please.”

Jimmy stared at her.

He was accustomed to filling a doorway and watching people surrender.

Jenny did not surrender.

“Get off my porch,” she said.

He glanced at the shotgun.

Jenny tightened her grip.

“Now.”

Jimmy backed down the steps.

He did not argue.

He did not threaten her.

He simply turned and walked toward the woods, following the same narrow path Jeff had taken two days before.

Jenny stepped onto the porch and watched until his tall shape disappeared among the trees.

“That miserable…”

She stopped herself only because the remainder of the sentence would have alarmed several species of woodland animal.

Jenny lowered the shotgun.

The jacket and shirts lay crumpled at her feet.

She picked them up one by one, brushed off the dirt, and carried them inside.

She folded the shirts carefully.

She smoothed the jacket over the back of the couch, checking it for damage. The pink heart and black lightning bolt remained intact.

Then she lit a cigarette.

Jenny paced the living room, muttering through a rapidly expanding vocabulary of profanity.

“Think he’s gonna come up in my house? Tell me what I can give that child? Call him that word on my porch?”

She took a hard drag.

The rage continued building.

She looked toward the shotgun.

“No. No, I’m not letting that stand.”

Jenny crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, grabbed the shotgun, and marched toward the front door.

“I swear, I’m gonna go down there and…”

She flung the door open.

Jeff stood on the other side.

He had changed back into the oversized hoodie and loose pants he had worn the first day. His dark hair covered his face.

He was crying.

Everything inside Jenny stopped.

The shotgun lowered immediately.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Jeff tried to turn away.

Jenny set the gun against the wall inside the doorway and stepped toward him.

“No. Come here.”

He stood trembling on the porch.

Jenny guided him inside, one hand against the back of his head.

“Come on. Come on, darling.”

He tried to speak, but the words broke apart before they reached his mouth.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey. You don’t have to talk yet.”

She closed the door behind him.

His eyes landed on the jacket lying across the couch.

His face crumpled.

Jenny took his hand.

“Come with me.”

She led him down the hallway and opened the studio door.

Jeff followed without resistance.

Jenny crossed to the drum kit, picked up the sticks, and placed them in his hands.

“Go ahead.”

Jeff looked at her.

“Hit them.”

He sat behind the drums.

For one second, he remained perfectly still.

Then he struck the snare.

The crack split through the room.

He hit it again.

Then the toms.

Then the cymbals.

The anger arrived all at once.

Jeff began hammering the drums with more force than he had the day before. The bass pedal thundered beneath his foot. The cymbals crashed over and over, bright and violent.

He played until he lost the rhythm.

Then he found another.

He stopped only long enough to catch his breath before beginning again.

Jenny remained beside him.

She did not tell him to calm down.

She did not ask what Jimmy had said.

She let the room take it.

The drums absorbed everything Jeff could not say.

He pounded until his arms gave out.

Then he rested his head over the snare and began to cry.

Jenny sat beside him and rubbed slow circles between his shoulders.

“It’s all right.”

Jeff shook his head.

“No.”

“Look at me.”

He did not.

Jenny waited.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Eventually, Jeff lifted his face.

His eyes were red.

“You did nothing wrong,” Jenny said.

Jeff’s mouth trembled.

“He said…”

“I know what he said.”

“He found the clothes.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“He said I was…”

“Don’t repeat it.”

Jenny cupped the side of his face.

“That word belongs to him. It doesn’t belong to you.”

Jeff stared down at the sticks.

Jenny leaned closer.

“Was I right about the fish pizza?”

The question startled him.

“What?”

“Was I right about the fish pizza?”

Jeff sniffed and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Was I right about the tour bus?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

Jenny sighed.

“Fair. That thing was a biological catastrophe.”

A tiny sound escaped him, almost a laugh.

“Was I right about the drums?”

Jeff nodded again.

Jenny wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb.

“Then you can trust me when I tell you this.”

Her voice grew firm.

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not shameful. You are not broken. And nobody gets to throw you away for being yourself.”

Jeff closed his eyes.

Jenny kissed the top of his head.

“You’re safe here.”

For a while, neither of them moved.

Then Jenny stood and held out her hand.

“Come on.”

Jeff looked exhausted.

“Where?”

“Let’s get you out of those miserable clothes and into something more appropriate for a rock star.”

She led him farther down the hallway.

The cabin had three guest bedrooms, remnants of the years when the Heartbreakers visited and slept two to a room. Most of them had not been used in a long time.

Jenny opened the door to the room nearest the studio.

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across a neatly made bed. A dresser stood beneath the darkened window. A few old framed concert photographs hung on the walls.

The clothes Jimmy had returned were folded on the bed.

The jacket rested on top.

Jenny gestured around the room.

“This one’s yours.”

Jeff stared at her.

“What?”

“Whenever you’re here, this is your room.”

“I can’t…”

“You can.”

Jenny opened the closet.

“You want posters, put up posters. You want pizza boxes stacked to the ceiling, we negotiate. You want to paint the walls purple, I’ll help.”

Jeff looked toward the bed.

“You don’t have to…”

“I know.”

That stopped him.

Jenny touched his shoulder.

“You look exhausted. Lie down for a while.”

Jeff sat on the edge of the bed, then slowly curled onto his side with his back toward the room.

His shoulders shook again.

Jenny pulled a blanket over him.

“I’ll be back.”

She went to the kitchen, scooped vanilla ice cream into two tall glasses, and poured Pepsi over it. Foam climbed to the rims.

Jenny returned carrying both drinks and two straws.

“All right, kid. Emergency medicine.”

Jeff rolled over slightly.

“What is it?”

“A Pepsi float.”

He sat up.

“You’ve never had one?”

Jeff shook his head.

Jenny handed him the glass.

“Better than fish pizza.”

He looked skeptical.

“That’s impossible.”

“Try it.”

Jeff took a sip through the straw.

His eyes widened.

“Whoa.”

Jenny smiled.

“Yeah. I know.”

She sat beside him with her own glass.

For several minutes, they said nothing.

They ate the ice cream with their straws and listened to the quiet sounds of the cabin.

When Jeff’s breathing had steadied, Jenny stood.

“Why don’t you rest? I have to make some calls.”

“Okay.”

She patted his shoulder.

“I’ll be right down the hall.”

Jenny closed the bedroom door most of the way.

The moment she was alone, she pressed one hand against her chest.

Then she walked to the telephone in the living room.

She knew the number by heart.

After all those years, her fingers still remembered it.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then the answering machine clicked.

A familiar voice filled the room.

Jenny closed her eyes.

The tone sounded.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s me.”

She paused.

“I know I should’ve called. I know it’s been too long, and I’m sorry.”

Her hand tightened around the telephone cord.

“But I need you, Kit.”

Another pause.

“Please call me back.”

Jenny lowered her voice.

“I really need my drummer.”

She hung up.

The receiver settled into its cradle with a soft click.

And the cabin became quiet again.

The Pink Cadillac

Less than an hour later, the quiet of the woods was torn open by the roar of a large engine.

Jenny looked up.

Jeff sat upright on the guest-room bed, still holding the remains of his Pepsi float.

The engine grew louder.

Then came the unmistakable shriek of tires sliding across gravel.

“What in the world?” Jenny said.

They both hurried toward the front of the cabin.

Headlights burst between the trees.

A huge pink Cadillac convertible came charging up the drive, chrome flashing beneath the moonlight. For one alarming second, it appeared to be headed directly toward the porch.

Jeff froze.

Jenny grabbed the porch railing.

The Cadillac turned sharply.

Its back end slid sideways across the clearing, spraying gravel in a wide arc before the car came to a dramatic stop only a few feet from the steps.

The engine rumbled.

Jenny stared.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The driver’s door flew open.

A woman leapt out.

Kit Vandal looked older than the woman in the posters, of course. Her once-wild red hair was streaked with silver now, though she still wore it in an enormous mass of curls that seemed determined to challenge gravity. She had on dark jeans, high boots, several bracelets, and a black leather jacket with the faded Heartbreakers emblem across the back.

Jenny had not seen her in seven years.

Kit slammed the car door and bounded up the porch steps.

“I’m here!”

Jenny barely had time to react before Kit wrapped both arms around her.

For one stunned moment, Jenny stood frozen.

Then her face broke into a huge smile.

“Kit.”

She hugged her back.

The years between them collapsed.

Jenny began to cry.

Kit held her tighter.

“What’s wrong?” Kit demanded. “Are you hurt? Are you sick? Did somebody die? Do I have to kill somebody?”

Jenny laughed through the tears.

“I’m okay.”

“You sounded terrible on the machine.”

“I know.”

“Then what happened?”

Jenny glanced toward Jeff.

He stood just inside the doorway, watching them with wide eyes.

“Come inside,” Jenny said. “This is Jeff.”

Jeff gave a small wave.

Kit looked from him to Jenny.

Then back to Jeff.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi.”

Jenny stepped aside and opened the door wider.

Kit entered the cabin, bringing cold night air, expensive perfume, and the lingering vibration of the Cadillac’s engine with her.

She looked at Jeff.

Then she looked back at Jenny.

“So what’s the emergency, kiddo?”

She asked Jenny the question, but her eyes remained on Jeff.

Jenny gave the smallest nod in his direction.

Jeff noticed the movement, but not what it meant.

Jenny stepped closer to Kit and leaned toward her ear.

Jeff could not hear the words, only the low murmur of Jenny’s voice.

“His would-be old man,” Jenny whispered, “this six-foot-six gorilla, came over here and threatened me.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed.

Jenny continued.

“So I introduced him to the shotgun and encouraged him to reconsider his travel plans.”

Kit slowly nodded.

“That’s the very, very, very short version,” Jenny said. “I gave Jeff those clothes and that jacket. His would-be old man decided to bring them back.”

Kit glanced at the folded shirts and leather jacket on the couch.

Something dangerous began to simmer behind her eyes.

“Gotcha,” she said.

One word.

Quietly spoken.

Jenny knew that tone.

Kit turned toward Jeff.

“What’re you doing with those drumsticks?”

Jeff looked down at them as though he had forgotten they were in his hands.

“Um. Jenny gave them to me.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“She showed me how to play drums.”

Kit stared at him.

Then at Jenny.

“Jenny showed you how to play drums?”

Jeff nodded.

Kit’s face filled with sympathy.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

Jenny folded her arms.

“Excuse me?”

“Poor, poor child.”

“I taught him perfectly well.”

Kit stepped toward Jeff and placed one hand gently on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m here now.”

Jenny pointed at her.

“You haven’t heard him play.”

“I’ve heard you play drums.”

“I can play drums.”

“You can hit drums.”

“That’s what drums are!”

Kit looked toward the hallway.

“Is the studio still set up?”

Jenny’s expression shifted.

“Yeah.”

“All of it?”

“Everything’s there. Just like you remember.”

“Immaculate?”

Jenny placed a hand against her chest.

“Of course it’s immaculate.”

Kit looked around the cabin.

“The woman who abandoned a tour bus full of garbage for fifteen years has maintained an immaculate recording studio.”

“The bus was a lifestyle choice. The studio is sacred.”

Kit nodded.

“That part I believe.”

She turned back to Jeff.

“All right, kid.”

He straightened.

“Let’s see what she showed you.”

Jeff glanced toward Jenny.

Jenny shrugged.

“You might as well. She’s gonna keep circling until somebody lets her destroy something.”

Kit grinned.

Jenny was a force of nature.

A hurricane, perhaps. Loud, broad, impossible to ignore.

Kit was different.

Kit was a tornado.

She did not arrive so much as touch down.

“Come on,” Kit said.

She swept down the hallway with Jeff close behind her and Jenny following after them.

At the end of the hall, Kit stopped before the plain wooden studio door.

For the first time since the Cadillac had screamed into the yard, she became completely still.

Her hand rested on the doorknob.

Jenny watched her.

Seven years stood silently between them.

Kit opened the door.

The studio waited on the other side, polished, silent, and exactly as she remembered it.

Her eyes went immediately to the drum kit.

“Well,” Kit said softly.

Then the tornado started moving again.

“All right, kid. Get behind the drums.”

Jeff hurried across the room.

Jenny leaned against the doorway.

Kit picked up a second pair of sticks, rolled one between her fingers, and looked at Jeff with a spark in her eyes.

“Let’s find out what kind of damage she’s done.”

The Drummer’s Union

Jeff sat behind the kit and began beating the drums in the same wild, chaotic fashion as before.

Kit’s face lit up.

“Yeah, that’s right. Harder now. Harder.”

Jeff smiled and started really going after them, thumping the bass pedal and cracking the snare.

“Let that rage go,” Kit said. “That’s what they’re for.”

He hit harder.

The rhythm was nonexistent, but the enthusiasm was magnificent.

“All right,” Kit said. “You need timing, but don’t worry about that yet. Timing’s a whole different animal.”

She moved closer and watched his hands.

“Hold on. Lemme see your grip.”

Jeff stopped.

Kit gently adjusted his fingers around the sticks.

“You’re holding too tight. Loosen up.”

Jeff relaxed his hands.

“More.”

He loosened them again.

“Think noodles,” Kit said. “Loose like a noodle.”

Jenny leaned against the studio wall.

“Very technical.”

Kit ignored her.

“Loose when you need loose, tight when you need tight. You’ll learn when. For now, stop trying to strangle the sticks. They haven’t done anything to you.”

Jeff laughed.

“There. Better.”

Kit stepped back.

“Now go.”

Jeff resumed playing.

“That’s it. Pop, pop, pop, pop.”

He struck the snare several times.

“Good. Don’t worry about rhythm yet. Just get used to the sticks.”

Kit held up her own pair.

“Bang them together.”

Jeff clicked the sticks against one another.

“Hear that?”

He nodded.

“Everything makes a sound. Even the sticks.”

She pointed toward the snare.

“You ever hit the rim?”

“No.”

“Try it.”

Jeff struck the rim.

The sharp metallic crack surprised him.

“Different, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Now move from the center of the drum toward the edge.”

He tapped at several points across the drumhead.

Each strike sounded slightly different.

“There you go,” Kit said. “Drums aren’t one sound. They’re a whole neighborhood.”

She pointed toward the cymbals.

“Cymbals.”

Jeff struck one.

“More cymbals.”

He struck another.

“More.”

He crashed both.

Kit nodded solemnly.

“Excellent.”

Then she spotted something beside the kit.

Her eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Jenny knew exactly what she had seen.

Kit turned toward Jeff.

“All right, kid. I think you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Your initiation.”

Jeff looked nervous.

Kit began pacing beside the drums.

“You are about to enter the Drummer’s Union.”

She reconsidered.

“The Drummer’s Army.”

Another pause.

“The Drummer’s Syndicate.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

“The Drummer’s Simpatico?”

Kit pointed at her.

“Don’t interrupt the ceremony.”

She turned back to Jeff.

“The name is still being negotiated. The important thing is, you’re joining the team.”

Jeff grinned.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Kit pointed dramatically toward the cowbell.

“Hit the bell.”

Jeff laughed.

“Hit it!”

He struck the cowbell.

Clonk.

Kit threw both hands into the air.

“There it is!”

Jeff hit it again.

Clonk. Clonk.

“I need a hundred of those!”

He began hammering the cowbell.

Kit cheered.

“More cowbell! More cowbell!”

Jenny covered one ear.

“This is why nobody lets drummers make decisions.”

Kit slapped Jeff lightly on the shoulder.

“You’re in the club, kid.”

Jeff’s grin stretched across his entire face.

“All right,” Kit said. “Scoot over.”

Jeff moved aside.

Kit sat behind the drum kit and rolled her shoulders.

She spun one stick between her fingers.

Then she began to play.

The first beat hit like thunder.

Her arms moved with astonishing speed, crossing from snare to toms, then racing across the cymbals. Her feet drove the bass drum beneath everything. The sound was not merely loud. It was precise, layered, and alive.

Jeff stared.

Jenny smiled.

There she was.

Kit Vandal.

The engine room.

Jenny crossed to the guitar rack and selected a battered electric guitar with a chipped black finish. She plugged it into an amplifier, switched on the microphone, and struck a roaring chord.

Kit immediately caught the rhythm.

Jenny launched into a fast, rebellious old rock favorite, belting its defiant chorus with all the swagger she had possessed at twenty-five and considerably less concern for whether the windows survived.

Kit pounded along behind her.

Jenny played harder.

Kit answered with a drum fill.

The studio became complete chaos.

Jeff jumped up and down beside the kit, trying to clap with the beat, shouting along whenever he caught the hook. He did not know all the words, but that did not stop him from contributing loudly and enthusiastically.

They reached the end.

Kit slammed the cymbals.

Jenny let the last chord ring.

For one second, the room went silent.

Then all three of them burst out laughing.

“Again!” Jeff shouted.

Jenny looked at Kit.

Kit raised her sticks.

They played it again.

And then, because nobody present had the good sense to stop, they played it a third time.

When they finished, Kit threw one hand into the air.

Jenny high-fived her.

Then Jenny turned toward Jeff and held up her palm.

He slapped it.

Kit leaned out from behind the drums.

“Over here, rookie.”

Jeff hurried over and high-fived her too.

Kit pointed at him.

“You see that? That’s the official drummer’s handshake.”

“It’s just a high five.”

“Don’t ruin the mythology.”

She sat back behind the kit.

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

Jenny laughed.

“Of course you are.”

Kit motioned Jeff toward the stool.

“Get in there. Your turn.”

Jeff sat down and began playing again.

Kit watched closely.

“That’s already better.”

Jeff looked up.

“Really?”

“Yep. Still terrible. But better.”

Jenny snorted.

Kit leaned over his shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her. How long have you been doing this?”

Jeff thought about it.

“Including today?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe an hour or two.”

Kit stared at him.

Then she laughed.

“An hour or two?”

Jeff nodded.

“All right. Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.”

She looked around.

“Where’s the fish pizza?”

Jenny glanced at the clock.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“And?”

“The pizza place is probably closing.”

Kit folded her arms.

“You called me out here for an emergency and didn’t arrange food?”

“I arranged emotional support.”

“I can’t eat emotional support.”

Jenny reached for the telephone.

“All right, all right.”

The pizza place answered on the final ring.

Jenny turned on the charm, reminded them of her generous tipping history, and ordered the largest anchovy pizza they were still willing to make, along with two bottles of Pepsi.

Kit corrected her from across the room.

“Three.”

Jenny covered the receiver.

“There are three of us, not three Pepsis.”

“Exactly.”

Jenny ordered three.

The driver arrived less than forty minutes later, looking as though he deeply regretted every decision that had led him into the woods after midnight.

Jenny tipped him forty dollars.

His regret vanished instantly.

They carried the pizza into the studio.

Kit opened the box and inhaled.

“Now that smells like civilization.”

Jeff grabbed a slice.

Jenny pointed at him.

“Careful. You’ve already been converted.”

“I like it now.”

Kit looked at Jenny.

“You converted him to anchovies?”

“First day.”

Kit nodded proudly.

“Good kid.”

They sat on the studio floor surrounded by drums, guitars, pizza boxes, and open bottles of Pepsi.

Jeff ate until his eyes began to droop.

Kit ate as though she had not seen food since 1994.

Jenny leaned against an amplifier, watching them both.

For the first time that night, the cabin felt loud in a good way.

By the time the pizza box held only grease and anchovy shadows, Jeff could barely keep his eyes open. Jenny sent him back to the guest room, and Kit claimed the room across the hall.

Jeff woke before either woman, walked home long enough to change, and left a note promising he would return.

The Bus Comes Back to Life

Jenny woke at three in the afternoon to the sound of drums shaking dust from the rafters.

She opened one eye.

Then the other.

For several seconds, she lay perfectly still, trying to decide whether the noise belonged to the present or to one of the hundreds of mornings when Kit had used percussion as an alarm clock.

A cymbal crashed.

Jenny smiled into the pillow.

“Present,” she murmured.

She pulled on yesterday’s jeans, found a shirt, and followed the music down the hallway.

Kit was alone in the studio, playing with her eyes closed.

Not showing off.

Not performing.

Just playing.

Jenny leaned against the doorway and listened.

The beat was slower than Kit’s usual attack, heavy and thoughtful, as though she were working through seven lost years one measure at a time.

When the final note faded, Kit opened her eyes.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re getting sentimental.”

Kit pointed a drumstick at her.

“I will deny that under oath.”

Jenny smiled.

“Come on. Follow me.”

She led Kit outside and around the cabin.

The old tour bus waited beneath the trees.

Kit stopped.

Even buried beneath dirt, it was unmistakable.

The black body.

The faded pink lettering.

The lightning-split heart.

Kit walked toward it slowly.

“You kept her.”

“Of course I kept her.”

Kit ran her fingertips over the emblem, leaving five clean trails in the dust.

“She looks terrible.”

“She’s had a difficult retirement.”

Kit climbed the steps and stared into the partially cleaned interior.

The path down the aisle was clear now. One couch had been uncovered. The floor was visible in several exciting locations.

Kit looked back at Jenny.

“You call this cleaning?”

“I call it progress.”

“You call everything progress.”

Jenny folded her arms.

“Well?”

Kit considered the remaining work.

“Coffee.”

“What?”

“I need coffee before I answer.”

Jenny went inside and returned a few minutes later carrying two enormous mugs.

Kit was no longer standing beside the bus.

She was inside it.

Cleaning.

Jenny climbed aboard and found her dragging an old blanket toward the door.

“You started without me.”

“You were moving too slowly.”

“I was making coffee.”

“Same thing.”

Kit accepted her mug, drank half of it in one go, set it safely on the counter, and picked up a trash bag.

“This is only a few hours.”

Jenny stared at the wreckage still filling the back half of the bus.

“A few hours?”

“Maybe four.”

“That is not a few.”

“It is to a drummer.”

Jeff arrived just after noon by Jenny’s clock, which meant a little after three by everyone else’s.

He came through the trees wearing the Heartbreakers shirt and jacket again, carrying his drumsticks in one hand.

Kit leaned out the bus door.

“Rookie! You’re late.”

Jeff looked toward Jenny.

“She told me noon.”

Jenny pointed at the sky.

“It is noon in spirit.”

Jeff laughed and climbed aboard.

The three of them worked.

They hauled out blankets, boxes, broken lamps, old cases, empty cans, warped magazines, and enough ancient clothing to outfit a very confused thrift store.

They scrubbed every surface.

They opened every window.

They found one lost boot, six unmatched earrings, a plastic hotel key from a building that no longer existed, and an unopened box of cereal.

Jeff held it up.

“Can I eat this?”

Jenny looked at the date.

“Only if you want to meet God before dinner.”

Kit snatched the box and dropped it into the trash.

By early evening, the transformation was astonishing.

The red couches were visible and clean.

The little kitchenette shone.

The narrow bunks had fresh sheets.

The windows reflected trees instead of dirt.

Even the faded curtains looked almost respectable after a trip through Jenny’s washing machine.

Jeff stood in the aisle and turned slowly.

“It looks brand-new.”

“No,” Jenny said. “It looks old and fabulous.”

Kit leaned against the driver’s seat.

“Just like us.”

Jenny pointed at her.

“Speak for yourself.”

Kit smiled.

Then all three of them heard heavy footsteps outside.

The bus door folded open before anyone reached it.

Jimmy climbed aboard.

Three Beats

He did not knock.

He did not ask permission.

He came through the door like the bus belonged to him.

Jenny stepped into the aisle.

“Get out.”

Jimmy did not stop.

His eyes found Jeff near the back of the bus.

Then he saw the leather jacket.

His face twisted.

“I told you to stay away from this place.”

Jeff backed against one of the couches.

Jenny moved between them.

“You’re trespassing.”

Jimmy looked down at her.

“Move.”

“No.”

His hand shot out.

He caught Jenny by the shoulders and drove her backward.

She hit the edge of the couch hard enough to lose her breath.

Then Jimmy was on her.

He tackled her into the narrow aisle.

Jenny struck the floor with him above her, one forearm pressing across her chest.

Jeff screamed.

He grabbed Jimmy’s coat and pulled with both hands.

“Get off her!”

Jimmy threw one arm backward and brushed him away as though swatting at a curtain.

Jeff struck the wall and fell beside the couch.

Jimmy shouted an ugly word at him, one meant to make him feel small, shameful, and less than a boy.

The bus went still.

Kit stood near the front storage cabinet.

One of the old tour bats rested inside it.

The band had carried them years ago for parking-lot trouble, roadside emergencies, and the occasional person who mistook five women on a bus for easy prey.

Kit took one out.

“Hey,” she said.

Jimmy turned.

The first strike landed against his shoulder.

One.

A hard, clean beat.

He rolled away from Jenny and tried to rise.

The second caught him across the upper back.

Two.

Another beat, perfectly spaced.

He staggered against the couch, still moving, still trying to turn toward her.

The third caught the outside of his thigh.

Three.

His leg folded. He crashed against the metal cabinet, struck his head on its edge, and collapsed into the aisle.

Kit stopped.

The bat lowered.

Silence rushed into the bus.

Jeff stared at her.

Jenny pushed herself upright, coughing and clutching her ribs.

Kit looked down at Jimmy, then at the bat in her hand.

“I’m a drummer,” she said.

Jenny began to laugh.

It hurt, but she laughed anyway.

Jeff scrambled toward her.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

He threw both arms around her.

Jenny held him tightly with one arm and reached for the telephone with the other.

Kit placed the bat on the table, well out of Jimmy’s reach.

Then she stood over him until the police arrived.

The Choice

Two patrol cars came through the trees with red and blue light sliding over the cabin, the bus, and Kit’s enormous pink Cadillac.

The first officer boarded carefully.

He took in Jenny sitting on the couch with Jeff pressed beside her.

Kit stood near the kitchenette.

Jimmy lay unconscious in the aisle.

The baseball bat rested on the table.

The officer looked at Kit.

“What happened?”

“He attacked her,” Kit said.

“How many times did you hit him?”

“Three.”

“Why three?”

“That’s how many it took.”

The officer looked at Jenny.

She nodded.

“He was still coming after us until the third.”

Jeff spoke before anyone could ask him.

“He pushed me and attacked Jenny. Kit made him stop.”

The officers spoke to Jenny, Kit, and Jeff one at a time. The story did not change.

The second officer checked Jimmy’s breathing, then called for an ambulance.

Jimmy began to stir before it arrived.

He groaned.

The moment his eyes found Jeff, hatred returned to his face.

He spat another terrible word.

Jenny moved before the officers did.

She pulled Jeff against her chest and covered one of his ears.

Kit stepped forward.

The first officer raised a hand.

“Don’t.”

Kit stopped, but the look she gave Jimmy could have stripped paint from the bus.

The officers rolled him onto his stomach and handcuffed him.

That was when headlights appeared through the trees.

Jeff’s mother came running toward the bus.

“What did you do?” she screamed.

Jeff stepped toward the door.

“Mom, Jimmy attacked us.”

She climbed aboard and saw the handcuffs, the blood near Jimmy’s hairline, and the bat on the table.

Her eyes moved from Jimmy to Jeff.

“He attacked Jenny,” Jeff said again. “He threw me into the wall.”

Jimmy twisted toward her.

“Tell them what that kid is.”

He used another hateful word.

Jeff’s mother flinched.

For one brief second, Jenny thought she saw a mother standing there.

A mother who understood.

A mother who would cross the aisle, gather her child, and never let go.

The second passed.

She looked at Jimmy.

Then she looked at Jeff.

Her face hardened.

“It’s just us now,” she told Jimmy.

Jeff stopped breathing.

His mother turned toward him.

“No son of mine should ever look better in a dress than me.”

The words landed more quietly than Jimmy’s violence.

They hurt more.

She followed the officers as they led Jimmy away.

Kit leaned out the bus door.

“Don’t come back!”

Jeff remained in the aisle.

He did not cry immediately.

That frightened Jenny more than tears would have.

She crossed the space between them and wrapped both arms around him.

“When you’re part of the band,” she whispered, “you’re family.”

Kit joined them from behind.

“Drummer’s Union,” she said softly.

Jeff finally broke.

They held him between them while the ambulance doors closed outside.

Punch the Ticket

The older officer remained after the others had gone.

He stood beside the bus with his hat tucked beneath one arm.

“We can hold Jimmy tonight,” he said. “Probably a couple of days. Maybe three. But he may make bail after that.”

Jenny nodded.

“We can keep an eye on the house,” he continued. “Drive through. Make sure he stays away.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The officer glanced toward the cabin.

“You planning to stay somewhere else?”

Jenny looked at the tour bus.

The black paint was still faded.

The heart was still worn.

But the windows were clean now.

The door stood open.

The engine had not been started in years, yet for the first time it did not look abandoned.

It looked patient.

“No,” Jenny said.

Kit heard something in her voice.

She stepped closer.

Jenny smiled.

“I’m gonna punch that ticket.”

Kit knew exactly what she meant. Buried in the Heartbreakers’ old contract was one final company-backed tour they had never claimed.

Kit went completely still.

“You mean it?”

Jenny looked toward Jeff.

He stood inside the bus wearing the Heartbreakers jacket, one hand wrapped around his drumsticks.

Then she looked back at Kit.

“I mean it.”

Kit’s eyes filled.

“We’re going on tour?”

“We’re going on tour.”

Kit let out a scream loud enough to send birds exploding from the trees.

She grabbed Jenny and spun her around.

Jenny laughed, clutching her sore ribs.

“Careful! I was recently tackled by a building!”

Kit set her down.

“We need Max.”

“And Dani.”

“And Roxie.”

Jenny looked up at the old bus.

“We’ll get them.”

Jeff stepped into the doorway.

“Am I coming?”

Jenny turned toward him.

“Kid, you’re the reason we’re leaving.”

He stared at her.

Then his face opened into the first real smile he had worn since his mother arrived.

Jenny held out her hand.

“Welcome to the tour.”

The Road Begins

Packing the tour bus should have taken three or four hours.

They finished in ninety minutes.

Jenny wasn’t entirely sure how.

Kit attacked the work the same way she attacked a drum solo: with frightening enthusiasm and absolutely no intention of slowing down.

Jenny organized food, clothes, instruments, and anything else they might need with the precision of a bandleader who had once moved twenty-three people across three states before breakfast.

Jeff happily carried whatever either woman pointed at.

By the time the sun began dipping toward the horizon, the old Heartbreakers bus looked alive again.

Every cabinet was stocked.

Every instrument was secured.

Every bunk had fresh bedding.

The refrigerator was full.

The interior gleamed.

Even the ancient engine, after years of neglect, rumbled contentedly beneath the floor.

Kit climbed into the driver’s seat wearing the biggest grin Jenny had seen in years.

She wrapped both hands around the enormous steering wheel.

“All right…”

She glanced toward everyone.

“Let’s roll.”

She leaned on the horn.

HOOOOONK!

The old bus answered like it had been waiting decades for someone to ask.

Kit laughed.

“Oh, I missed that.”

She shifted into gear.

The Heartbreakers bus rolled down the long gravel driveway.

Then faster.

Then faster.

By the time they reached the road, Kit planted her foot.

The rear tires kicked gravel behind them.

The bus practically peeled onto the highway.

“Hoo-hoo!”

Another blast of the horn echoed through the trees.

“We’re back!”

Jenny laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee.

Meanwhile…

Ten stories above downtown, inside a towering office building, Maxine Vale shuffled through another endless workday.

Gray cubicles.

Gray carpet.

Gray walls.

Gray people.

She carried a stack of reports that she no longer cared about.

Her shoulders slumped.

Her eyes were empty.

A manager intercepted her.

“You’re late again.”

She barely looked up.

“You understand there won’t be another warning.”

Silence.

“You hear me?”

“…Yes.”

The manager wandered away, still talking.

Max never really heard another word.

She sat at her cubicle.

Opened another report.

Started typing.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Then…

Something.

Very faint.

Music.

Her fingers stopped.

She frowned.

Impossible.

The sound grew louder.

A guitar.

Drums.

Her eyes widened.

“No…”

She stood.

The music echoed between the buildings outside.

She hurried toward the enormous office windows.

Ten floors below, rolling down the street, was a black tour bus.

Pink lettering.

Lightning bolt.

The music blasting proudly from its speakers.

Her heart stopped.

“No…”

She leaned against the glass.

Outside, standing in the open doorway of the slowly moving bus, Jenny waved both arms.

Kit leaned on the horn.

Max screamed.

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!”

Every head in the office turned.

She didn’t care.

She spun in a complete circle.

“YES!”

The receptionist stared.

Coworkers froze.

Her boss stepped out of his office.

“Maxine, what on earth—”

She pointed wildly out the window.

“They came back!”

Nobody understood.

She didn’t care.

She grabbed her purse.

“Forget this place!”

She sprinted toward the elevators.

Halfway there, she stopped.

“Oh!”

She ran back.

Everyone watched.

She snatched her purse from her chair.

Then pointed toward one coworker.

“Not you, Stuart!”

Stuart blinked.

“You’ve always been nice!”

She pointed at everyone else.

“The rest of you…”

She laughed.

“…good luck!”

Then she ran.

By the time she burst through the front doors, the tour bus had already stopped.

Jenny stood waiting.

Max launched herself into Jenny’s arms.

“I can’t believe it!”

Jenny laughed.

“I know!”

“Does this mean—”

“Yep.”

“We’re going on tour?”

“We’re going on tour.”

Max screamed loud enough to startle pigeons.

People on the sidewalk applauded despite having absolutely no idea why.

Jeff smiled.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but everybody else looked happy.

That was enough.

Jenny looked at Max.

“You need to go get your stuff?”

Max laughed.

“Absolutely not.”

Jenny grinned.

“Good.”

Kit leaned out the driver’s window.

“Everybody aboard!”

The Couch Remembers

Kit guided the bus back onto the interstate.

Max stood in the aisle for several seconds, looking around as though she had boarded a dream before it could pull away.

The red couches.

The tiny kitchenette.

The bunks.

The old curtains.

Every dent and scratch seemed to remember her.

Kit called from the front.

“Hey, Max! You good for the night shift?”

Max laughed.

“I’m good for every shift.”

Then she looked down at the office blouse, skirt, stockings, and sensible shoes she was still wearing.

“First, let me get out of these crazy clothes.”

She unbuttoned the blouse.

Then noticed Jeff sitting only a few feet away.

She hesitated.

Jenny waved one hand.

“It’s all good. We’re all good here.”

Max looked at Jeff, then back at Jenny.

Something passed between the two women.

Max smiled.

“Got it.”

She disappeared behind one of the little curtains and emerged a minute later wearing an oversized Heartbreakers T-shirt, soft shorts, and thick socks.

She grabbed a Pepsi from the refrigerator.

Tsssshhhhh.

She drank nearly half of it in one long pull.

“Oh, my goodness.”

She dropped onto the old red couch.

The bus rolled over a seam in the highway.

The couch bounced beneath her.

Max closed her eyes.

Every bump brought something back.

Every vibration.

Every rattle.

The sensation of miles moving beneath her.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said again. “This feels so good.”

She took another enormous drink.

“It was like a nightmare.”

Nobody interrupted.

Max stared at the ceiling.

“A living nightmare.”

Her voice became very small.

“I’m never, ever going back.”

Jenny sat beside her.

“You ain’t ever going to.”

Max turned her head.

Jenny continued.

“No matter what happens with this tour, you can live with me.”

Max’s eyes filled immediately.

“You’re saying that?”

Jenny smiled.

“I am saying it.”

She took Max’s hand.

“But I also mean it.”

Max laughed once, shakily, and began to cry.

Jenny pulled her into a hug.

The bus rolled on beneath them.

Jeff watched from across the aisle, looking a little perplexed by how quickly these women moved between shouting, laughing, and crying.

Jenny noticed.

“All right, Jeff. Come over here.”

He moved closer.

“You’re probably a little confused about what’s going on, hey?”

He bobbed his head.

“You know we’re going on tour.”

“Yeah.”

Jenny gestured toward Max.

“I’d like you to meet Maxine. We call her Max.”

Max straightened and wiped her eyes.

“Well, hello.”

Her voice became warm and cordial.

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Jeff said shyly.

“Well, you’re going to be more than fine if you hang out with us.”

She looked at the jacket and shirt he wore.

“I see you’re already wearing the gear.”

Jenny slipped an arm around him.

“Jeff’s part of the band.”

Max looked at Jenny, then gave Jeff a delighted sideways glance.

“Fantastic. Welcome aboard, kiddo.”

“So what do you play?”

Kit answered from the driver’s seat.

“The drums.”

She looked at Jeff in the rearview mirror.

“And he’s pretty good.”

Jeff blushed.

Max raised her eyebrows.

“That’s a big compliment coming from her.”

Kit nodded solemnly.

“It is.”

Jenny took Jeff gently by the hand.

“All right, buddy. Sit down. There are a couple things you should know.”

One More Truth

Jenny sat beside Jeff while the old bus carried them west beneath a darkening sky.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she looked toward Max and Kit.

“We had one really big song,” she began. “One that went number one in a lot of countries and number four here in the United States.”

Jeff nodded.

“‘My Name Is Jenny.’”

“That’s the one.”

Jenny smiled faintly.

“I wrote it when I was sixteen years old. Roxie heard me singing it one day and said we should record it. I was reluctant. The rest of them convinced me.”

Kit called from the front.

“Bullied you lovingly.”

“Relentlessly,” Jenny corrected.

Max smiled.

“And we were right.”

“You were.”

Jenny’s smile faded.

“We put it on the album. Then the record company released it as a single, and it shot up all over the world.”

She looked through the windshield at the highway unrolling ahead of them.

“The thing is, the song was very revealing about me. And the thing about being famous is that people pry.”

She paused.

“They pry a lot.”

Max’s hand tightened around her Pepsi bottle.

“Especially the British tabloids,” Jenny continued. “We were number one in Britain, and they treated my life like a locked door they deserved to kick open.”

Jeff listened without moving.

“One reporter found a photograph of me when I was younger. About fifteen or sixteen.”

Jenny drew a breath.

“I don’t even know how he got it. Maybe from a school. Maybe from somebody who knew me. But he got it.”

The bus became very quiet.

“They were pictures of me as a boy.”

Jeff froze.

Jenny looked down at her hands.

“The pictures went everywhere. Newspapers. Magazines. Television. People acted like they had uncovered who I really was.”

She shook her head.

“They hadn’t.”

Her voice grew steadier.

“They had found a picture of what the world thought I was.”

She placed one hand against her heart.

“But I knew. I knew deep in my soul, in my heart, with everything I knew, that I was a girl.”

Jeff’s breathing changed.

“There is no way on Earth I was ever a boy.”

His hands began to shake.

Jenny noticed.

She reached over and gently brushed the hair away from his face.

“I think maybe you understand this,” she said softly. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

Jeff could not speak.

His eyes filled.

He nodded.

Once.

Then again.

“I thought so,” Jenny whispered. “I thought so.”

She took his hand and stroked the back of it with her thumb.

For nearly a full minute, no one spoke.

Jenny simply held him and brushed his hair away from his wet face.

Then she continued.

“I could handle people attacking me. I’d been fighting for myself my whole life.”

Her eyes moved toward Kit and Max.

“But then they started attacking my friends.”

Kit’s shoulders tightened at the wheel.

“They followed them. Called them. Printed lies about them. Tried to hurt the people I loved because they loved me.”

Max’s voice broke.

“We would’ve protected you.”

Kit said it at the same moment.

“We would’ve protected you.”

Max leaned forward.

“We loved you. We would never have let them hurt you.”

Jenny’s composure shattered.

“I know.”

The words came out as a sob.

“I know. That’s why I stopped.”

Kit looked at her in the mirror.

Jenny covered her mouth, trying to pull herself together.

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. They were going after you, and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let them destroy you because of me.”

Max was crying now.

“You didn’t have to protect us from loving you.”

Jenny shook her head.

“I know that now.”

She pressed both hands to her face.

“But then, all I could think was that if I stopped, they would stop. So I canceled the dates. I ended the tour.”

Her voice became quieter.

“They didn’t want to stop. They never wanted to stop.”

Kit’s voice was barely audible.

“No.”

Jenny looked at Jeff.

“I stopped us.”

Nobody spoke.

The old bus hummed beneath them.

The tires whispered against the road.

After a long while, Jenny squeezed Jeff’s hand.

“But here is the thing, sweetheart.”

He looked at her through tears.

“You’ve got us.”

She smiled, though her own face was wet.

“Just like my friends helped me, we can help you, if you want.”

Jeff’s lips trembled.

“We can make sure you get to be you. Who you really are. We can help you be free and happy.”

Jenny’s smile grew warmer.

“And touring with us, you can find some of the joy I found.”

She gave a small, watery laugh.

“Oh, my goodness, you would love it.”

She leaned closer.

“Would you like that?”

Jeff nodded so hard his whole body moved.

He still could not speak.

Jenny pulled him into her arms.

She kissed the top of his head.

Max joined them from the other side.

“There now, precious,” Max whispered. “You don’t have to be alone.”

She smoothed his hair.

“We were able to help Jenny. We’ll be able to help you.”

Then Max looked toward Jenny and smiled through her tears.

“And I have to say, you were even prettier than she was before she started.”

She winked.

Jenny gasped.

“Oh, excuse me?”

Jeff laughed into her shoulder.

Kit remained unusually silent.

Tears rolled down her face as she drove.

At last, Jeff found his voice.

“I would like that very much.”

Jenny held him tighter.

“All right,” she whispered. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Heather

For several minutes, the four of them remained close together on the old red couch.

Then Jenny leaned back and studied the kid beside her.

“All right, baby.”

She smiled.

“It’s a little unusual, huh?”

The kid looked back.

“What is?”

Jenny leaned closer.

“Jeff.”

A pause.

“Jeff?”

The kid nodded uncertainly.

“Yeah…”

Jenny smiled warmly.

“That’s what everybody else calls you.”

She gently brushed the hair from the kid’s face.

“But what’s your real name, girl?”

Silence.

The kid looked down at her hands.

Her fingers twisted together.

Nobody hurried her.

Finally, almost too quietly to hear, she answered.

“Heather.”

Jenny’s smile became enormous.

“There it is.”

She wrapped an arm around Heather’s shoulders.

“I knew it.”

Heather looked up.

“You did?”

Jenny laughed.

“Why else would I invite you into an all-girl band?”

For one second, Heather simply stared.

Then she laughed.

Real laughter.

Kit laughed.

Max laughed.

Before long, the whole bus was laughing together.

Jenny squeezed her shoulder.

“Well, I guess we’d better get you out of those dusty old boy clothes and get you some real gear.”

Max immediately pointed toward one of the storage compartments.

“I’ll fix that.”

She disappeared down the aisle.

“I know we still have some tour clothes packed away.”

Jenny watched her go.

“Probably enough to dress three bands.”

Kit chuckled from the driver’s seat.

“Or one Jenny.”

Jenny pointed toward her.

“Watch it, drummer.”

Heather could not stop smiling.

A few minutes later, Max returned carrying an armload of shirts, jackets, jeans, shorts, and stage clothes.

She dumped them onto one of the couches.

“There.”

She looked proudly at Heather.

“We’ll figure out your style.”

Heather stared at the pile as though someone had opened a door into another life.

Punching the Ticket

Jenny picked up one of the jackets and held it against Heather’s shoulders.

“Oh, before I forget. You heard us talking about punching the ticket, didn’t you?”

Heather nodded.

“I didn’t know what that meant.”

Max laughed.

“What she means is Jenny’s a genius.”

Jenny rolled her eyes.

“Oh, here we go.”

“No, seriously.”

Max leaned against the table.

“When our first big hit exploded, the record company wanted to lock us into a three-album deal.”

“They figured we’d sign anything,” Kit said.

“They figured wrong,” Max replied.

She looked at Heather.

“Jenny sat there and started negotiating.”

Heather looked surprised.

“She did?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Jenny shrugged modestly.

Max ignored the performance.

“She told them we would sign, but we got two buses and a year’s worth of free fuel. Record companies loved charging touring bands for everything, especially things they claimed were helping us.”

Kit laughed.

“They hated the fuel.”

“And then Jenny said they had to sponsor our next tour.”

Heather blinked.

“They agreed?”

“They fought us,” Max said. “They argued. They stalled. But we were so popular at the time that they knew they had us.”

She corrected herself.

“They knew they had a hit on their hands. Having a hit isn’t rare. Knowing you have one before the whole world does? That’s rare.”

Jenny smiled.

“So they agreed.”

Max nodded.

“They promised us another fully sponsored tour.”

Kit tapped the steering wheel.

“The funny part is, we never stopped touring.”

“We played for thirteen years straight,” Max said.

Heather’s eyes widened.

“Thirteen?”

“We practically lived on this bus.”

Max looked around the old interior with affection.

“Then everything happened.”

The bus became quiet for a moment.

Max smiled again.

“But the contract still owes us one tour.”

Heather looked around at all three women.

“Really?”

Jenny nodded.

“Really.”

“That’s what punch the ticket means,” Max said. “We get to take the tour that was promised to us.”

Heather’s smile slowly spread across her face.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yep,” Jenny said. “So all we have to do is get the other two, get the practice place—”

“No practice place,” Kit interrupted.

Jenny looked at her innocently.

“What?”

“Practice is onstage.”

Max stared at them.

“You are crazy, girl.”

Jenny grinned.

“Just like the old days.”

The whole bus erupted into laughter as it thundered into the night toward the next Heartbreaker waiting to come home.

Dani on the Highway

Sometime deep in the middle of the night, Max took over driving the tour bus.

Kit was fast asleep across one of the couches, one boot hanging over the edge.

Jenny had drifted off in the seat beside her, her head tipped against the window.

Heather was curled near the back with a blanket pulled beneath her chin, sleeping with the peaceful exhaustion of someone who had lived several weeks’ worth of life in a handful of days.

Only Max was awake.

The highway stretched ahead beneath the stars, long and nearly empty. The night was cold and crisp, the kind that sharpened every headlight and made distant objects appear briefly magical before they passed.

The Heartbreakers bus rumbled steadily along.

Then Max saw a broken-down car on the shoulder.

At first, it was only a crooked silhouette beneath the moonlight. Its hood was raised. One door hung open. A woman stood beside a flat tire, fighting with a crowbar.

Max leaned toward the windshield.

Her eyes widened.

“No way.”

She slammed on the brakes.

The bus screeched.

Everybody inside shifted violently forward.

Jenny bolted awake.

“What? Did we hit something?”

Kit rolled from the couch and landed in a heap on the floor.

Heather sat straight up and struck her head against the seat in front of her.

“Ow!”

Even Max was half-thrown out of the driver’s seat. She scrambled upright without answering anyone.

“What the heck, Max?” Kit demanded from the floor.

Max shoved the bus into reverse.

The enormous vehicle lurched backward along the shoulder, tires crunching gravel, until she brought it to another hard stop beside the broken-down car.

Then she flung open the folding door and ran into the night.

“DANI!” she screamed. “IS THAT YOU?”

The woman beside the tire turned around.

For one stunned second, she simply stared.

Then the crowbar fell from her hand.

“What?”

Her eyes jumped from Max to the black bus behind her.

“What is this? Max?”

By then Jenny and Kit were spilling out of the bus, both half awake and thoroughly confused.

Jenny squinted through the dark.

Then her jaw dropped.

“Dani?”

Kit screamed.

“No way!”

Dani Wilde let out a cry of absolute joy and ran toward them.

Max reached her first.

They collided in a hug, laughing and crying at the same time. Max lifted Dani from the ground and spun her in a full circle.

Dani looked past her.

The black tour bus idled beneath the stars.

The pink lettering glowed under the roadside lights.

The lightning-split heart waited on its side.

Dani covered her mouth.

“No.”

Then louder:

“No way.”

She pointed at the bus.

“Are we on tour?”

Jenny and Kit reached her together, and for several seconds all four women became one tangled, laughing, shouting embrace in the middle of the highway.

“What are you doing out here?” Jenny asked when they finally separated.

Dani looked from one face to another, still laughing in disbelief.

“I was coming to see you.”

Jenny blinked.

“Coming to see me?”

“Yeah.”

Dani gestured helplessly down the road.

“I just got this feeling that I should come see you. So I got in the car and started driving. Then one of those gravel trucks must’ve dropped something, because my tire caught a nail or something and blew out. I’ve been out here at least thirty minutes trying to change it.”

Everyone looked at the car.

It was an old jalopy. Not charmingly old. Not collectibly old. Just dented, exhausted, and stubbornly alive.

Max snorted.

“I’m surprised you got this far in that thing.”

Dani burst out laughing.

“Well, it’s all I’ve got.”

By then Heather had peered from the bus, seen everyone laughing, and climbed down the steps.

She walked toward them with a broad smile, still sleepy but happy because they were happy.

The cold air made her pull the Heartbreakers jacket tightly around herself.

For a brief moment, everything became quiet.

The stars.

The low growl of the bus engine.

The soft ticking of Dani’s ruined car.

Jenny stepped forward.

She took Dani’s face gently between her hands and rested her forehead against hers.

“Baby,” Jenny said softly, “we need you.”

Dani’s heart melted across her face.

Her eyes filled.

“I know,” she said.

Then she smiled.

“That’s why I was coming.”

Jenny’s smile became radiant.

She hooked one thumb toward the broken car.

“You need that lump?”

Dani looked back at it.

Then shook her head.

“No.”

“Well, come on. We’ve got a tour to get ready for.”

Dani screamed and began jumping up and down.

“Are you serious? We’re really doing this?”

“We’re really doing this,” Kit said.

“Absolutely,” Max added.

Everybody started talking at once.

How did you know?

When did you leave?

Is that really your car?

You drove that across state lines?

What happened to your hair?

You still carry a crowbar?

Dani answered none of the questions in order.

Then she noticed Heather.

She stopped and pointed.

“Well, who’s this little charmer?”

Jenny put an arm around Heather’s shoulders.

“This is Heather.”

Dani’s whole face lit up.

“Well, hi, Heather!”

Before Heather knew what was happening, Dani wrapped her in a generous hug.

“Nice to meet you.”

Heather smiled and hugged her back.

“Nice to meet you too, Dani.”

Dani pulled back and looked at her warmly.

“Oh, I already like you.”

“Everybody does,” Kit said.

“Especially if they’ve got rhythm,” Max added.

Heather blushed.

Jenny clapped her hands.

“All right, everybody aboard. We still have one more Heartbreaker to find.”

“Roxie,” Dani said.

“Roxie,” Jenny agreed.

They climbed back onto the bus together.

Dani did not look back at the broken car.

The folding doors hissed shut.

Max pulled the bus onto the highway.

The Heartbreakers were four again.

And somewhere beyond the headlights, the last one was waiting.

The Bride

“That’s the deal, toots.” Sal stood over her with his arms folded. “You’re the one who played your hand. You’re the one who has to pay the piper.”

“But I don’t want to do this, Sal. I don’t want—” The bride pressed one hand against her chest, struggling to breathe beneath the tight bodice of her wedding gown. “He’s ninety-three years old, Sal. Ninety-three!”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you took up gambling, kid.”

The bride stared at him, her eyes wet and furious.

“So, what’re you gonna do about it?” Sal asked. “You gonna cry? You gonna weep until somebody finds you six feet under? Or are you gonna slap a sweet smile on your face, pinch your cheeks, and go out there and get married?”

Her breaths came faster. She tried to pull in one deep breath, but it broke apart halfway down.

“That’s right,” Sal said. “Get yourself together. I know you got it in you. Besides, the guy’s ninety-three. How long do you think he’s got left? You’ll be free in no time.”

“His mother’s still alive.”

Sal’s expression went blank. “What?”

“She’s one hundred and eleven.” A frantic little laugh escaped the young woman. “Still kicking. Lives in Sicily, right by the Mediterranean.”

Sal stared at her for a moment.

Then the first solemn notes of “Here Comes the Bride” began drifting through the walls.

“That’s your cue.”

He left the dressing room, and two older women hurried in to fuss over the bride’s veil, straighten her train, and soothe her increasingly frantic nerves.

The gown was extraordinary—a shimmering Vera Wang original, designed by Vera herself. Layers of white silk and lace flowed around the young woman like moonlight, every bead and crystal sewn into place by hand. It was the sort of gown meant for royalty, movie stars, and women experiencing the happiest day of their lives.

The bride looked like she was being prepared for execution.

“There must be six hundred people out there,” she whispered.

“Closer to six-fifty,” one of the women said cheerfully.

The bride made a faint choking sound.

The other woman gently patted her arm. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle.”

“Sal’s going to walk you.”

The bride grimaced. “Oof.”

The first woman stepped back and examined her handiwork.

“Look, it’s showtime,” she said. “You’re always telling us stories about how famous you used to be. Well, this is it—your final gig.”

She began laughing.

The other woman shot her an irritated look before turning back to the bride.

“Listen, it can’t be—” She stopped, apparently unable to find an honest way to finish that sentence. “Look, the alternative is much worse.”

The bride’s breathing quickened again.

The sympathetic woman sighed, placed both hands on the bride’s shoulders, and squared them.

“Stand tall.”

Then she shoved the bride through the door.

Sal was waiting in the corridor. He held out his arm.

The bride looked at it as if it were a dead fish, but the music was already playing and the doors to the wedding hall were opening.

She took his arm.

The hall was breathtaking—and completely inescapable.

Tall arrangements of white roses lined the narrow aisle. Golden light poured down from crystal chandeliers, glimmering across marble floors and hundreds of elegantly dressed guests. Flower girls stood beside the pews in matching dresses. Little children smiled and waved at the bride as she passed. Cameras flashed from every direction.

Most of the guests were perfectly polite. Others had come to pay their respects to Anthony and his family.

The bride looked from side to side like a trapped cat, her head turning almost completely around as she searched for an exit. A side door. An open window. A loose brick.

Anything.

There was nowhere to go.

The hall might as well have been a fortress.

Step by step, Sal escorted her toward the altar. With every flash of a camera and every swelling note of the music, the bride grew more lightheaded.

Her knees wobbled.

“Hey. Hey, hey.”

Sal tightened his grip and gave her shoulder a firm shake.

“The deal is, you like this. Right?”

The bride stared at him.

“No—better than that. You love him. Right?”

Something changed behind the young woman’s eyes.

Years of performing took over.

She lifted her chin, straightened her back, and summoned a brilliant arena-stage smile—the sort of radiant, ten-out-of-ten smile that could reach the cheapest seats in the building.

In an instant, she was glowing.

To the guests, she looked like the happiest bride who had ever lived.

Sal nodded approvingly. “There. That’s much better. Now finish the show.”

The bride continued down the aisle, smiling and waving as the cameras flashed.

Anthony Joyous Marzulli stood waiting beside the priest.

He looked every bit of ninety-three—and perhaps a few years more—but his enormous smile was warm and genuine. He beamed at the bride with absolute adoration.

Anthony was the brother of one of the most powerful crime-family leaders in the country. His brother had arranged the marriage, presenting it to Anthony as a joyful romance.

Anthony had no idea that the young woman was standing there because of gambling debts and threats.

He truly believed she loved him.

When the bride reached the altar, Anthony offered his hand. She placed hers inside it, maintaining that magnificent stage smile even as her fingers trembled.

The music faded.

The priest opened his book.

“Do you, Anthony Joyous Marzulli, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Anthony slowly nodded.

“Yes,” he said, his voice thin but certain.

He took the ring and carefully slid it onto the bride’s finger.

Before the priest could turn to her, a voice rang out from the far end of the hall.

“ROXY!”

Roxy’s head snapped up.

Standing inside the open doors were the Heartbreakers.

They stared at Roxy in her magnificent wedding gown.

Then they stared at Anthony.

They had arrived expecting a reunion—not to discover that Roxy was marrying a man old enough to have seen Moses in person.

The entire hall fell silent.

Roxy’s glowing smile vanished.

For one frozen second, she stared at her friends.

Then she bolted.

She tore away from Anthony and flew down the aisle in a blur of white silk. Her bouquet struck the edge of a pew, sending roses spinning through the air. Guests leaped out of her way. Flower girls screamed. Cameras flashed wildly as she thundered past.

Roxy raced straight past the Heartbreakers without saying a word.

They turned and watched her go.

“What the—” Max began.

Sal raised one hand and made a sharp signal.

Several men in black suits immediately charged down the aisle.

The Heartbreakers took off after Roxy.

She burst through the outer doors, spotted the tour bus, and sprinted toward it with her gown gathered in both hands. She hit the closed bus door headfirst, staggered backward, then furiously pried it open.

Heather had been waiting inside with a Pepsi float. She looked up in astonishment as a woman in an enormous wedding gown stormed aboard and threw herself into the driver’s seat.

Silk and lace spilled over the steering wheel and covered half the dashboard.

Roxy twisted the key and pumped the accelerator.

The engine coughed.

“Come on!” she screamed. “Come on, come on, come on!”

The engine roared to life.

Jenny, Kit, Dani, and Max were racing across the pavement, with six men in black closing fast behind them.

Roxy threw the bus into gear.

Jenny and Kit barely made it through the front door before the bus began rolling. Dani jumped aboard next.

Max did not.

“Roxy!” Dani shouted. “You’re leaving Max!”

Roxy stomped harder on the accelerator.

Dani raced toward the back of the swaying bus. Her gigantic duffel bag blocked the aisle, and she had to climb over it before reaching the rear emergency door.

She threw it open.

Max was sprinting after the bus, her arms pumping, while the six men rapidly gained on her.

“MAX!” Dani screamed.

Dani stretched out from the open doorway, reaching as far as she could.

Max lunged.

Their hands locked together just as the bus screeched around a corner.

The turn whipped them sideways like the end of a chain. Dani clung to the doorway with one hand and held Max with the other while Max’s legs scraped across the asphalt.

“Get me in!” Max shrieked.

“I’m trying!”

Behind them, several of the men dragged a stunned driver out of a waiting car, piled inside, and sped after the bus.

Kit grabbed Dani around the waist. Together, she and Jenny hauled backward until Max finally came tumbling through the hatch.

Max collapsed across the floor, swearing at Roxy with impressive creativity.

The stolen car was gaining on them.

Jenny looked at the enormous duffel bag blocking the rear aisle.

Then she looked at the approaching car.

“Wait,” Dani said. “What’re you doing?”

Jenny shoved the duffel bag through the open hatch.

“No!” Dani screamed. “That’s all my stuff!”

The bag struck the highway directly in front of the pursuing car.

The car slammed into it, swerved violently, and crashed into another vehicle. Brakes shrieked as traffic scattered around the wreckage.

But more cars filled with men in black were already weaving around the collision.

Kit and Dani wrestled the rear hatch closed as the tour bus rocked wildly from side to side.

Max staggered to her feet and stormed toward the driver’s seat.

“You almost got me killed!” she screamed. “What is going on?”

Roxy didn’t answer.

She sat rigidly behind the wheel, glassy-eyed with panic, jerking the bus through traffic while her wedding veil streamed behind her.

Jenny grabbed the wheel.

“Move!”

She pulled Roxy out of the driver’s seat and took control of the bus.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” Roxy screamed. “They’re still after us!”

Then she slid to the floor, disappearing behind those glassy eyes once again.

The pursuing cars ducked and weaved through traffic, closing the distance.

Jenny tightened her grip on the wheel.

Then she spotted something ahead.

A blue-and-silver Metro 8 News truck sat in the parking lot of a shopping center, its broadcast mast raised into the sky. Its two-man crew had nicknamed the truck the Roadrunner.

Metro 8’s chief field correspondent, Cal Mercer, stood beside a flock of geese happily devouring discarded french fries while cameraman Luis Ortega filmed him.

Jenny’s eyes narrowed.

She wasn’t looking for somewhere to hide.

She was looking for witnesses.

Jenny slammed on the brakes.

Everyone inside the tour bus flew forward.

She twisted the wheel and threw the enormous bus into a U-turn. Cars scattered in every direction, horns blaring. Jenny reversed, lurched forward, turned crossways through traffic, and briefly ended up facing the wrong direction on the highway.

“Jenny!” Kit screamed.

“I know!”

“You’re on the wrong side!”

“I know!”

Jenny forced the bus down an entrance ramp in the wrong direction, using it as an exit. Cars coming up the ramp slammed on their brakes. One driver had to reverse while furiously leaning on his horn.

The tour bus was heavy, slow, and designed to travel in long, dignified lines.

Jenny drove it as though nobody had informed her of that.

The black cars continued following, but Jenny’s reckless maneuvers had cost them ground.

Inside the bus, everyone was being flung from one side to the other.

Max had both hands wrapped around the back of a seat while she continued shouting at Roxy.

“What did you do? Roxy, look at me! What did you do?”

Roxy sat on the floor in her magnificent wedding gown, nearly catatonic. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t seem to see anything. Several of the women tried shaking her into awareness, but she remained silent and frightened.

Heather sat nearby, completely stunned.

The Pepsi float appeared glued to her hand. She simply sat there clutching it, watching everything unfold as though her mind had decided it would process the evening sometime next year.

Dani was still mourning the loss of her gigantic duffel bag.

“All my clothes were in there! My shoes were in there! My good hair dryer was in there!”

The bus swung around another corner.

Dani looked through the rear window and caught the metallic flash of something inside one of the pursuing cars.

Her mouth dropped open.

“They’ve got guns!”

Everyone turned.

“They’ve got guns!” Dani screamed again. “They’ve got guns!”

Max rounded on Roxy. “What did you do?”

At the word guns, Roxy suddenly came back to life.

She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the rear of the bus, fighting through the train of her wedding gown. She squeezed in beside Dani, and they pressed their faces against the back window like two frightened fish staring out of an aquarium.

One of the men in the nearest car raised a handgun just high enough for them to see it.

Roxy slowly pulled her face away from the glass.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered.

Then she gathered up her gown and ran toward the front.

Jenny careened into the shopping-center parking lot.

Cal was standing in front of the camera, delivering his live report with grave professional concern.

“Residents say the geese have become increasingly aggressive in their search for food. The question remains: who keeps feeding them french fries—and what, if anything, can local officials do about it?”

The tour bus came shrieking into the shot.

The geese scattered in a storm of wings and furious honking. Cal spun around as the enormous black-and-pink bus skidded to a stop several yards away.

Luis looked toward him, waiting for instructions.

Cal glanced at the bus, the fleeing geese, and then the glowing red light on the camera.

He motioned urgently.

Keep rolling.

The broadcast was live.

Jenny threw open the bus door.

“Come on! Everybody out! Come on, come on, come on!”

The Heartbreakers spilled into the parking lot.

They placed Roxy in the center of the group, surrounding her with their bodies. Unfortunately, it was difficult to conceal a woman wearing an enormous Vera Wang wedding gown and veil in the middle of a parking lot.

Jenny marched directly toward the astonished reporter.

“Ma’am, we’re currently—”

Jenny leaned toward his microphone and looked straight into the camera.

“Jenny and the Heartbreakers are back!”

The reporter blinked.

Behind Jenny, Kit’s jaw dropped.

Max whispered, “We are?”

Jenny continued, her voice carrying across the parking lot.

“I want everybody to know that we are officially back—and we’ll be performing live, coming to a theater near you!”

Cal looked toward Luis.

Luis gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

At the far end of the parking lot, the black cars arrived.

They slowed when the men saw the television truck, the camera, and Jenny speaking into a live microphone.

The cars stopped just beyond the edge of the shot.

Several men climbed out, keeping their guns low and out of sight. They could see Roxy standing in the middle of the Heartbreakers, still wearing Anthony’s ring and the wedding gown.

But now thousands of people could see her too.

The men remained beside their cars, watching and waiting.

Jenny glanced toward them. Then she turned to the Heartbreakers.

“We need to sing.”

“Right now?” Kit asked.

“Especially right now.”

“With what instruments?” Max demanded.

“None. ‘Keep Time With Me.’ A cappella.”

Jenny gathered them into a tight semicircle, keeping Roxy protected in the middle.

She counted them in.

Max began the low harmony. Kit clapped out the rhythm while Dani slipped into the next note.

Jenny started the song.

“I don’t need a limousine…”

For the first few seconds, Roxy stood frozen in her wedding gown.

Then she lifted her head, found her old harmony, and joined them.

The five voices came together.

“Keep time with me!”

The cameraman moved closer.

People leaving the surrounding stores stopped to listen. Shopping carts gathered beside parked cars. Drivers rolled down their windows. Parents lifted children onto their shoulders.

A small crowd formed around the Heartbreakers.

The men in black remained beside their cars, unwilling to enter the camera’s view.

The Heartbreakers finished the song.

For half a second, everything was silent.

Then the parking lot erupted in applause.

Roxy looked around as though she had just awakened. Her veil was crooked, her hair was coming loose, and a piece of asphalt was caught in the lace near the bottom of her train.

But she was safe.

And she was smiling for real.

Jenny turned toward the reporter.

“We’re gonna need a little more room.”

Before he could respond, Roxy hurried back onto the tour bus and began pulling out equipment. Dani followed her, muttering bitterly about her lost duffel bag while opening the storage compartments beneath the bus.

They brought out microphone stands, cables, amplifiers, a keyboard, guitars, and pieces of a drum kit.

Heather finally set down her Pepsi float.

She joined them, carrying whatever equipment they handed her. She dragged cables across the pavement, helped unfold stands, and held part of the drum kit steady while Kit assembled it.

The television crew helped them run power from the truck.

Within minutes, the parking lot had become an improvised concert venue.

The cameras never stopped rolling.

Calls flooded into the television station. People who remembered Jenny and the Heartbreakers shouted for family members to come look at the screen. Longtime fans stared in disbelief as the vanished band performed live in a shopping-center parking lot.

Plenty of viewers had no idea who they were.

But they kept watching anyway.

The original crowd grew larger. Some people had seen the broadcast and driven to the shopping center. Others heard the music from nearby streets and followed it.

Roxy stood behind her keyboard in her Vera Wang wedding gown. Dani raised her saxophone. Kit settled behind the drums. Max took up her bass.

Jenny strapped on her guitar and stepped toward the microphone.

“I told you,” she announced to the crowd and the cameras. “Jenny and the Heartbreakers are back!”

The band launched into another song.

Across town, the record executive who had sponsored their last tour received an urgent telephone call.

“Turn on the television,” the caller told him.

“What channel?”

“Any of them.”

He switched on the nearest television.

There they were.

Jenny and the Heartbreakers were performing in a parking lot before a crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute. Roxy was playing in a wedding gown. A local reporter had abandoned his story about french-fry-eating geese and was now covering an impromptu reunion concert.

Then Jenny looked directly into the camera and announced that the Heartbreakers were going back on tour.

The executive’s face went white.

He knew exactly what that meant.

He was going to have to sponsor them.

“Oh, shit.”

After six or seven songs, the crowd was rocking. People danced between parked cars. Children sat on their parents’ shoulders, clapping along. Roxy continued playing in her Vera Wang wedding gown, while the camera crew captured every glorious, ridiculous second.

The men in black had not left. They remained at the far end of the parking lot, waiting beside their cars and watching from just beyond the reach of the television cameras.

The Heartbreakers were nearing the end of their final song when one of the men stepped forward.

He put two fingers into his mouth and released a piercing whistle that nearly cut through the music.

Roxy looked over.

The man hurled a telephone toward her.

It sailed almost twenty feet through the air.

Part Four - Chapter 2

A distant growl of thunder rolled across the sky as it rose. Roxy released her keyboard, reached up, and caught it just as a streak of lightning flashed across the clouds.

The band continued playing around her.

Roxy stared toward the black cars, trembling as though she could somehow see through their tinted windows.

She slowly lifted the phone to her ear.

Sal’s gravelly voice came through the receiver.

“Well played, kid. Well played.”

Roxy said nothing.

“I’ll see you on the flip side.”

The connection went dead.

Roxy lowered the phone, shaking.

Max stormed over, snatched it from her hand, and hurled it back toward the men in black. It struck the pavement several feet in front of them and shattered into pieces.

Then Max put one arm around Roxy.

The men stared at them for another long moment before slowly returning to their cars.

Engines started.

The black vehicles pulled away from the parking lot and disappeared into traffic.

Max gave Roxy a reassuring squeeze before returning to her bass. Roxy wiped her eyes, placed her hands back on the keyboard, and finished the song with the rest of the band.

The crowd erupted.

Jenny and the Heartbreakers waved as the last note faded. The reporter was nearly beside himself. He had begun the afternoon with a throwaway story about geese eating french fries and had somehow ended up broadcasting the return of a legendary rock band.

His cameraman had captured everything—the tour bus screeching into the parking lot, the mysterious cars, the wedding gown, the flying telephone, and the entire concert.

The reporter approached the Heartbreakers as the crowd continued cheering.

“Great job,” he said. “I can’t believe my eyes.”

Then he turned toward the camera and gathered whatever remained of his professional composure.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen—back to weather.”

He motioned for the cameraman to cut the feed.

The red light went dark.

Every Heartbreaker released the same enormous breath.

Heather still didn’t completely understand what had happened. She didn’t know who Sal was, why Roxy had been wearing a wedding gown, or why armed men had chased them across the highway.

But she understood that the immediate danger had passed.

That was enough.

Without waiting for instructions, Heather began gathering cables and folding microphone stands. Dani and Max noticed what she was doing and joined her.

Jenny and Roxy remained where they were.

Jenny gently cupped one side of Roxy’s face. She moved Roxy’s hair away from her ear and looked at her.

“I’m so happy to see you.”

Roxy collapsed into her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept.

“It’s all right,” Jenny whispered. “It’s gonna be all right. We’re here now.”

She hugged Roxy tightly, then pulled back, gave her a wink, and playfully patted her cheek.

Jenny and Roxy walked toward the tour bus with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

They hadn’t unloaded much equipment, so it didn’t take long to pack everything away. The Metro 8 crew finished loading its gear, and Cal gave them one final astonished wave before the Roadrunner departed.

Max watched it leave.

“Anybody else feel like a hot dog?” she asked. “I feel like a hot dog.”

“Yes,” Dani answered immediately. “I’ll take two. I don’t have anything left now.”

She looked toward the highway, thinking about her gigantic duffel bag massacred somewhere across several lanes of traffic.

Everyone laughed.

It was sympathetic laughter, but it was still laughter.

Max headed toward the hot-dog stand and returned carrying an enormous order of hot dogs, chili dogs, and french fries. Heather followed behind her with several drinks and a container of vanilla ice cream.

Kit was already sitting behind the steering wheel when everyone climbed aboard. They closed the door and began passing food around.

For several seconds, nobody said anything.

Then Max looked at Roxy.

“Roxy,” she said. “Holy moly.”

That did it.

Everyone burst into hysterical laughter.

“Holy moly!” Dani cried.

“We were dragged behind a bus!”

“You threw away my entire life!”

“You were getting married!”

“He was ninety-three!”

“He had a nice smile!” Roxy protested.

That only made them laugh harder.

The terror, confusion, and exhaustion of the last hour poured out of them. They laughed until they cried, gasped for air, and nearly dropped their food.

Roxy sat in her Vera Wang wedding gown with a chili dog in one hand, trying desperately to keep it away from the lace.

Heather spotted the bottle of Pepsi she had abandoned earlier and began making floats. She prepared root-beer floats for herself and Jenny, then looked around the bus.

“Anybody else want one?”

Several hands went up.

Heather prepared another float and handed it to Roxy.

Roxy took one sip.

Her face changed.

“Ooh. What is this?”

“A float.”

“Is this Pepsi?”

Heather looked surprised. “Yes.”

Roxy stared at the cup as if Heather had handed her motor oil.

She reached into it with one hand and caught the scoops of ice cream in her palm. With her other hand, she opened the bus door and poured the Pepsi onto the pavement.

“Roxy!”

Still holding the melting ice cream, Roxy cracked open a can of Coke, returned the scoops to the cup, and poured the Coke over them.

She took another sip.

Her shoulders relaxed.

“Much better.”

“Don’t mind her, Heather,” Jenny called from across the table. “She lacks good taste.”

Roxy looked down at herself. “I’m wearing Vera Wang.”

“My point stands.”

A smirk crept across Roxy’s face.

She held the Coke float out to Heather. “Here you go, kiddo. Try a real drink.”

Heather accepted the cup and aimed the straw at Roxy as if accepting a challenge. She took a sip, considered it carefully, and shook her head.

No.

“That’s my girl!” Jenny declared. “That’s my girl. We share the same taste buds!”

Jenny burst out laughing, and everyone else joined her.

Roxy pulled the float back toward herself.

“Fine. All the more for me.”

She went back to drinking while everyone settled into their food. Hot dogs, chili dogs, and french fries moved around the table. For the first time since the wedding, nobody was running, screaming, being dragged across asphalt, or threatened by men with guns.

Roxy studied Heather over the top of her float.

“All right,” she said. “What’s your story, kid?”

Before Heather could answer, Max spoke up.

“She’s a Heartbreaker.”

Roxy looked Heather over again, this time more carefully.

“I can see that.”

“And she’s part of the Drummer’s Union,” Kit added.

Kit raised her hand.

Heather smiled and gave her a high five.

A low rumble sounded outside.

Rain began tapping against the windows. Within seconds, the gentle patter became a steady downpour. Lightning flashed across the parking lot, followed by a crack of thunder powerful enough to shake the bus.

Kit looked through the windshield.

“We should probably get somewhere. It looks like it’s gonna get pretty bleak out there.”

She slid behind the steering wheel and turned the key.

The engine cranked but didn’t catch.

Kit tried again.

The starter strained. The engine coughed once, then fell silent.

“Oh, come on.”

She turned the key a third time.

Nothing.

Kit released it and drummed a quick, irritated rhythm across the steering wheel with both hands.

“We’re gonna have to check it.”

Another flash of lightning illuminated the entire parking lot. Thunder crashed almost immediately afterward, and the rain became torrential.

Kit peered through the glass.

“But not now. Not tonight.”

Water poured down the windshield in sheets, completely obscuring the world beyond the bus.

“Looks like we’re bunking in,” Max said.

Jenny leaned back in her seat. “Well, we’re in the right place for it.”

“We would’ve been in the right place,” Dani said, “except all my stuff is gone—and that included most of our supplies.”

Everyone turned and looked at her.

Dani stared back at them.

Then she sank lower in her seat.

“Ugh.”

She reached beside her and lifted a smaller bag that she had kept separate from the enormous duffel.

“At least I still have my Bible,” she said. “I always keep that separate, so we’ll be good to go.”

The Bible was tattered and torn, its cover decorated by Dani’s own hands and its pages softened from years of being carried everywhere she went.

It was a Greek Bible. Her father was Greek and her mother Jamaican, and Dani had owned it since she was seven years old.

Photographs filled the spaces between its pages—pictures of family, friends, and all the people she loved.

Which meant it contained an awful lot of Heartbreakers.

Heather leaned closer to examine the battered book.

“What kind of Bible is that?”

“It’s a Greek Bible.”

“What’s a Greek Bible?”

Dani laughed. “A Bible written in Greek.”

Heather gave her a look.

“The New Testament was originally written in Greek,” Dani explained.

“Oh.” Heather studied the unfamiliar letters. “I didn’t know the Bible was written in anything other than English.”

Dani smiled. “Most people don’t.”

Heather continued looking through the pages. She stopped at one of the photographs tucked inside—an old picture of the Heartbreakers crowded together and grinning at the camera.

“My stepdad said I was evil,” she said quietly.

Dani’s smile disappeared.

Heather stared down at the photograph.

“He said God didn’t love me because I wore dresses. Because I was a girl.” She swallowed. “Well, he didn’t say it like that. He said other things.”

Dani’s eyes immediately filled with tears. A painful lump rose in her throat as she placed one hand over her heart.

“Oh, sweetie. That’s a lie.”

Heather looked up.

“That is a terrible, horrible lie,” Dani continued. “God has always loved you. He loves all of us, and He loves you. Your stepdad was a monster for saying anything like that, and I am so sorry you ever had to hear it.”

Dani placed the Bible aside and took both of Heather’s hands.

“You’re perfect,” she said. “You are perfect exactly as you are. God loves you so much.”

She wiped the tears from Heather’s cheeks, even though she was completely failing to wipe away her own.

Then Dani pulled Heather into an embrace so tight that Heather could barely breathe.

“I’m glad you’re here with us,” Dani whispered. “You deserve a family who loves you.”

She kissed Heather on the cheek before releasing her.

“You know God loves you so much that He sings over you at night.”

Heather blinked. “Sings over me?”

“He does.”

“Does it say that in there?”

“Well, yes. It’s in Greek, so that might not help you very much.”

Heather smiled through her tears.

“But it’s true.” Dani began flipping through the battered pages. “It says that He rejoices over you with singing. He loves you so much that He literally sings over you.”

Dani suddenly stopped.

Her eyes widened.

A melody had found her.

She reached toward the place where she usually kept her notebook. Her hands searched beside the seat, beneath the table, and inside one of the cabinets.

Then she remembered.

“Fuck.”

Everyone looked at her.

“All my writing stuff was in the duffel bag.”

For the first time since losing it, Dani didn’t joke. Her shoulders dropped, and genuine frustration crossed her face.

“My notebooks. My pens. Everything.”

She struck the table with the side of her fist.

Jenny immediately stood.

“Hold on. Wait a minute.”

She searched through several cabinets before discovering a stack of old Heartbreakers flyers. They were faded and curled at the edges—the kind the band had once handed out before shows.

Jenny turned them over. The backs were blank.

“How about these?”

Dani stared at the stack.

Roxy produced a pen and passed it across the table.

Dani seized both the flyers and the pen. She bent over the table and immediately began writing, barely aware that anyone else was still inside the bus.

Heather watched her scribbling.

Jenny gently pulled Heather back before she could lean too close.

“Yeah, she gets like this when she needs to write a song,” Jenny whispered. “Just give her a minute.”

Roxy studied Heather from across the aisle.

“I like your look, kid,” she said. “But I think we can do better.”

Heather looked down at the clothes Jenny had given her.

Roxy noticed her glancing at the wedding gown.

“I saw you eyeing my dress.”

Heather nodded frantically. “It’s beautiful. It’s gorgeous.”

Roxy looked triumphantly at Jenny.

“See? She’s got taste.”

Jenny rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Max,” Roxy said with a sly smile. “Help me out of this.”

Max stepped behind her and unzipped the wedding gown. Roxy gathered the enormous dress around herself, carefully stepped free, and stood in the silk slip beneath it.

Then she pointed at Heather.

“Lose the jacket, kid.”

Heather blinked. “What?”

“Take it off.”

Heather removed the Heartbreakers jacket.

Roxy held open the Vera Wang gown. “Here. Put this on.”

“You want me to wear that?”

“That’s generally what ‘put this on’ means.”

Heather stared at the magnificent dress.

“Wow.”

She carefully stepped inside. Max and Roxy pulled it into place and zipped her up.

“There you go,” Max said.

Heather looked down at herself.

The gown flowed around her in shimmering waves of white silk and lace. She gathered the material in her hands and turned from side to side.

“Wow!”

“Look at you,” Roxy said. “You look fantastic.”

Heather beamed as she swirled the fabric around herself.

Roxy narrowed her eyes and began studying the dress.

“All right. Here we go.”

She seized the long train and tore it away with one violent pull.

Everyone gasped.

“We won’t need that,” Roxy said. “Can’t walk around dragging half a wedding behind you.”

A pair of scissors suddenly sailed through the air.

Nobody knew who had thrown them.

Roxy caught them without looking.

Then she attacked.

The scissors flashed as she slashed, trimmed, and reshaped the gown. Silk and lace fell around Heather’s feet. By the time Roxy finished with the bottom, the dress ended just below Heather’s knees.

Next came the sleeves.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

“All right,” Roxy said. “Now give me the jacket.”

Heather handed it over.

Jenny saw the scissors rising again.

“Oh, no. No, no, no—”

Too late.

Roxy had entered a fashion fever dream.

She hacked through the jacket, shortening it until it ended just beneath Heather’s bust. Then she cut away the lower portions of the sleeves, leaving them ending at Heather’s forearms.

Jenny watched pieces of the old Heartbreakers jacket fall to the floor.

“That was a perfectly good jacket.”

“It was an unfinished jacket,” Roxy corrected.

She slipped it over Heather’s altered wedding dress and smoothed the shoulders.

“There. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Roxy began rearranging Heather’s hair.

“A couple of buns, I think. Maybe some bangs.”

Within minutes, Heather had been transformed. The shortened wedding dress flared around her knees, while the cropped Heartbreakers jacket gave it a sharp punk-rock edge.

Max held up a pair of drumsticks.

“You can’t go anywhere without these.”

She undid Heather’s hair buns, twisted them tighter, and used the drumsticks to hold them in place.

The bus erupted in applause.

Everyone approved—except Dani, who remained hunched over the table, furiously writing across the backs of the old flyers. She was lost inside her own world and hadn’t noticed the makeover happening several feet away.

“All right,” Roxy said. “Let’s see the finished product.”

The tour bus had a full-length mirror that the Heartbreakers once used to check their costumes before performances.

Max opened it.

Then they presented Heather to herself.

Heather froze.

The girl in the mirror looked like a proper punk-rock star—a Heartbreaker dressed in white silk, cropped black leather, and drumsticks.

Her eyes smiled almost as widely as her mouth.

Heather slowly turned around and looked over her shoulder. The Heartbreakers emblem stretched across the back of her jacket.

“This is the best day ever.”

“I’M DONE!”

Everyone jumped.

Dani shot out of her seat, waving several old flyers covered with handwriting.

“Here. Look.”

She thrust the pages into Jenny’s hands.

Written across the top was a title:

MY SWEET DARLING CHILD

Jenny began reading.

One hand rose to cover her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Dani,” she whispered. “You’ve outdone yourself. This is so beautiful.”

Jenny read through the pages once more.

Then she began to sing.

Her voice was soft at first, barely louder than the rain drumming against the roof. Dani joined her, already knowing every word by heart.

When they reached the chorus, Jenny’s voice grew stronger.

“I love you,
I love you,
I love you, my sweet darling child…”

Their voices echoed throughout the bus.

Max began tapping a rhythm across the steering wheel and the backs of the seats, turning the interior of the tour bus into an improvised drum kit.

Jenny and Dani continued into the second verse.

Then Jenny reached the final lines.

Her voice softened again.

“I have loved you every moment,
Since before your day of birth…”

Heather’s breath caught.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Dani stepped behind her and wrapped both arms around her. They gently swayed together while Jenny continued singing.

“This is your song,” Dani whispered. “This is the song God sings to you while you sleep.”

She kissed the top of Heather’s head.

“No one can take you from us now. You’re a Heartbreaker.”

Jenny carried the song through its final chorus.

When she finished the last line, the bus fell completely silent.

Outside, rain continued pouring across the windows.

Jenny carefully placed the handwritten lyrics into Heather’s hands.

Heather looked down and read them through her tears.

“Thank you, Dani.”

She hugged Dani tightly.

Then Heather rolled the pages into a small cylinder and tucked them safely inside the pocket of her new Heartbreakers jacket.

Heather stood there for a moment with one hand resting over the pocket.

In the span of a single day, she had come to three startling revelations.

First, this was the greatest day of her life.

Second, for the first time she could remember, she felt completely loved. Completely safe.

And third, she finally understood how the Heartbreakers’ tour bus had ended up looking the way it did.

It hadn’t even been a week.

Heather looked around at the glorious chaos—the scraps of leather and wedding silk scattered across the floor, the empty hot-dog cartons, the Coke and Pepsi cans, the old flyers, the instruments, the blankets, and six exhausted women who seemed capable of turning any quiet moment into a small natural disaster.

She smiled.

Then, sometime during the night, she drifted off to sleep.

The bus slowly grew quiet around her.

One by one, the Heartbreakers fell asleep wherever they happened to land. Some stretched across seats. Some curled up on the floor. A few ended up half on top of one another, using shoulders, stomachs, and legs as pillows.

Dani held Heather close beneath a blanket.

Outside, the storm rolled away. The thunder grew distant, the rain softened, and darkness gradually surrendered to dawn.

The sun rose over the parking lot.

The Heartbreakers slept right through it.

It was nearly eleven thirty before the first groans began drifting through the bus.

Someone stirred beneath a pile of arms and jackets.

“Coffee,” a muffled voice called out.

“Coffee sounds good,” Max said without opening her eyes.

Kit lifted her head from the steering wheel.

“Lots of it.”

Roxy pushed herself upright, stepped carefully over the sleeping bodies, and opened the bus door.

“I’ll find some.”

She disappeared toward a coffee shop on the other side of the parking lot.

Jenny stretched until her back cracked.

“All right. Let’s see if we can get this bus moving.”

Part Four - Chapter 3

Kit slid properly into the driver’s seat and turned the key.

The engine cranked.

It did not catch.

She tried again.

The starter groaned, the engine sputtered once, and then nothing.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Kit murmured.

She turned the key a third time.

The bus refused.

Kit tapped a frustrated rhythm across the steering wheel, then looked at Jenny.

“We’re going outside.”

They raised the hood and began checking everything they knew how to check. Oil. Cables. Hoses. Fuel. The battery still had power—the engine turned over every time—but no matter what Kit adjusted, tightened, poked, or threatened, it would not catch.

At last, Kit lowered the hood.

“It’s official.”

She wiped her hands on her pants and gave Jenny the solemn look of a doctor delivering terrible news.

“She’s dead. She ain’t going anywhere. We’re stuck.”

Jenny looked across the parking lot, then back at the disabled bus.

“This is our new home. The parking lot.”

“Jenny and the Parking Lots,” Max suggested.

Several of the women laughed.

Roxy returned carrying a cardboard tray loaded with enormous coffees. Tucked beneath one arm was a large hot chocolate, which she handed directly to Heather with a wink.

“For the newest Heartbreaker.”

Heather wrapped both hands around the warm cup.

“Thank you.”

Roxy passed out the coffees, then looked between Kit and Jenny.

“So, how are we sitting?”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Kit said. “Sitting. We ain’t going nowhere. This is it. Our new home.”

Jenny took a long drink of coffee.

“Well,” she said, “I guess it’s time.”

She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her contacts. She scrolled down. Then farther down. Then much farther down, until she finally reached a number she had hoped never to need again.

The contact read:

RECORD PRODUCER—THE CACTUS

She had added the nickname years ago because the man could be so spectacularly prickly.

Every Heartbreaker crowded around her.

Jenny hit the number and put the call on speaker.

The phone rang twice.

A receptionist answered.

Jenny cleared her throat.

“Hey, this is Jenny. I’d like to speak to—”

Click.

The line went dead.

Jenny stared at the phone.

“Did she just hang up on me?”

She called again.

The receptionist answered.

“Hey, this is Jenny—”

Click.

Jenny’s eyes widened.

She called a third time.

“Sally, you put him on. Sally, put him on. Put him on. Put him—”

Click.

Jenny slowly raised her eyes toward the sky.

“This mother—”

Before she could finish, the phone began ringing in her hand.

The screen displayed one name:

THE CACTUS

Everyone stared.

Jenny pressed the button and put him on speaker.

A voice came through—warm, familiar, and still prickly around the edges.

“Jenny! My favorite music star. How’s it going, kid?”

He laughed.

“Long time no see.”

“Cut it. I know you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I would never avoid you. You’re my favorite. You girls have always been my favorites.”

“Save your flattery, Mel.”

Jenny leaned toward the phone.

“Why did you have your receptionist hang up on me?”

“It was an accident.”

“Three times?”

“She’s getting older. Her hands fumble. Besides, if I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be sending you those presents every year.”

“What presents?”

“You know. Those boxes of walnuts.”

Muffled arguing came from somewhere on Mel’s end of the call.

“Oh,” Mel said. “Never mind about the walnuts.”

The mumbling continued.

“I said never mind about the walnuts. Anyway, how can I help you? I happened to see you fine ladies on television yesterday. I even saw that you got yourself a new member. What’s her name?”

“Heather,” Jenny said. “She’s our new drummer in training.”

“Good, good, good. So you’re finally kicking Kit out of the band, eh?”

Kit made a face at the phone.

“I’m just kidding. Just kidding. Kit is one of the top drummers I know—and I know two drummers. One of them is my kid sister.”

Kit’s face darkened.

“I’m kidding again! She’s one of the best in the business. I know that. So, as I was saying, what can I do you for?”

“You know why I’m calling.”

“Yeah, yeah. I figured as much when I saw you on TV. Sad news, though. Very sad news. We’re not going to be able to do it.”

“That’s not the deal,” Jenny said. “That’s not what the contract says.”

“What contract?”

“The contract says the Heartbreakers get another tour. You never sponsored the second one because our first tour lasted thirteen years. Thirteen years of making money for you and Steve. Now I want our part of the deal.”

“Jenny, it’s been twenty-eight years. Statute of limitations.”

“There’s no statute of limitations in the contract.”

“Well, there ought to be.”

Mel sighed.

“Look, here’s the situation. We don’t have the money for that kind of tour anymore. Rock music—and especially your particular kind of rock music—doesn’t fill the seats like it used to. You understand? No more arenas. You girls are more like fairground material now. Maybe I can get you a couple of fairgrounds.”

“That’s not what’s in the contract. The contract guarantees a minimum of two years, twenty venues, and premium venues.”

“Premium, shmium. Let’s be realistic. You want to go on tour. We don’t have the money to send you on tour. Therefore, you don’t go on tour. Capisce?”

Jenny’s jaw tightened.

“I mean, outside of that local television weatherman-geese situation, nobody has heard from the Heartbreakers in twenty-eight years. That’s a long time. Especially for rock-and-rollers. Most of you people aren’t even alive after twenty-eight years.”

No one on the bus laughed.

“Look, I sympathize,” Mel continued. “But—”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the contract.”

“Jenny—”

“We’re coming to you.”

She hung up.

“Well, that’s all settled,” Jenny said.

She laughed.

The other Heartbreakers answered with a scattering of weary chuckles. Heather simply stared at them, wide-eyed, still trying to understand what had just happened.

Jenny looked through the windshield toward the open hood of the tour bus.

“Now we’ve got to get this thing running.”

Max walked over to her.

“Hey, do you have a copy of the contract?”

Jenny thought for half a second.

Max’s expression suddenly changed.

“It wasn’t in Dani’s duffel bag, was it?”

Both women looked toward Dani.

Dani perked up. “What’s that?”

“We were just talking about you,” Max said, giving her a wink.

Dani smiled suspiciously.

“No, no,” Jenny said. “The contract is safe. Let me get it.”

She disappeared into the tour bus.

Max pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

Meanwhile, beneath a gray sky, a gray office building contained a gray cubicle. Inside that cubicle, a telephone rang.

A man reached for it.

“Stewart.”

“Hey, Stewart,” Max said. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Certainly.”

“I have a contract I’d like you to look over. Jenny’s bringing it now. I’m going to send you some photographs, if that’s all right.”

“Righto.”

Jenny returned carrying a thick bundle of folded papers.

Max spread the contract across the table and photographed every page.

“We’re stuck in a parking lot,” she explained as she sent the pictures. “The record company is trying to get out of sponsoring our second tour, and our bus won’t start. You’re really good with contracts, so I’d appreciate it if you could look this over and tell me what you think.”

“Give me a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks, Stewart.”

Max ended the call.

Jenny studied her face.

“Who was that?”

“No one.”

Max was smiling.

Jenny pointed at her. “What’s that look?”

“What look?”

Kit hurried over.

“Max has a boyfriend!”

“Oooh,” several Heartbreakers said together.

“I do not have a boyfriend.”

“You like him, though,” Jenny said.

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m just really good friends with someone whose name happens to be Stewart.”

Heather smiled from ear to ear.

“Tell us more.”

“There is nothing to tell!”

Max’s phone rang.

She looked at the screen and immediately brightened.

“Hey, Stewart,” she answered much too lovingly.

The other women exchanged delighted looks.

“Hey, Max,” Stewart said. “I’ve gone through the contract, and they definitely owe you the tour. It’s ironclad.”

Every Heartbreaker leaned closer.

“It guarantees a minimum two-year run with twenty venues each year,” Stewart continued. “Premium venues, too—large arenas with substantial seating capacity. It’s a very good agreement. I’ve never toured personally, but it certainly looks good to me.”

Max gave Jenny a thumbs-up.

Jenny returned it enthusiastically.

“What about the bus?” Max asked.

“I’m afraid the bus isn’t covered. There’s nothing in the contract requiring the company to maintain this particular tour bus or replace it. The tour is guaranteed. The bus is entirely your responsibility.”

The women’s excitement dipped slightly.

“Still,” Stewart said, “the important part is that they owe you the tour. That provision is extremely clear.”

“Thank you, Stewart.”

Max turned away from the others and whispered something into the phone.

Then she hung up.

“Oooh,” everyone said again.

Heather joined them.

“Max and Stewart sitting in a tree,” she sang. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”

“All right, that’s enough!” Max cried, blushing fiercely. “The contract is legitimate. That’s what matters.”

Jenny looked toward the broken bus.

“True. Unfortunately, we still have no idea how we’re going to reach any of those premium venues.”

“That does put us in a bit of a pickle,” Kit said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jenny replied. “We always do.”

A familiar rumbling sound approached from the far end of the street.

The Roadrunner had been heading toward another meaningless assignment when Cal spotted the Heartbreakers’ tour bus still sitting in the parking lot.

Yesterday’s surprise concert had been the crew’s best story in twelve years. They had spent far too long reporting on geese that ate french fries. The geese had returned, but nobody cared about them now.

The Roadrunner turned sharply into the parking lot.

Cal threw open the door.

“Camera ready!”

Luis jumped out behind him.

“Three, two, one!”

The red light appeared.

The reporter turned toward the camera with a tremendous smile.

“It’s Jenny and the Heartbreakers!”

The women were startled for half a second, but they were professionals.

Every Heartbreaker immediately began waving in perfect synchronization.

Heather started a moment late. She frantically matched their rhythm and caught up within two waves.

“Fantastic!” the reporter exclaimed. “Are you giving us another concert today?”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Jenny said. “We’re just here.”

She gestured toward the open hood.

“It turns out our tour bus has broken down, so we have to deal with that little problem. Other than that, we’re in excellent spirits.”

Then Jenny looked directly into the camera.

“We are extremely excited about our fantastic new minimum two-year run at premium venues across the United States and Europe.”

She leaned closer.

“Possibly Japan.”

Jenny winked.

“It’s going to be fantastic. We’ll be performing all our old hits, along with some new material. Dani just wrote an amazing song called ‘My Sweet Darling Child.’ You’re going to love it. If you loved the Heartbreakers before, you’ll love us even more now. We’re ready to rock and roll all night long.”

She winked again.

Without any discussion, the Heartbreakers launched into a quick musical number. It lasted only a couple of bars, but their voices landed in perfect harmony.

“See you soon!” Jenny called.

The reporter laughed. “That was wonderful! But what exactly is happening with the tour bus?”

“We tried to leave this morning,” Jenny explained. “It turns over, but it won’t start. We’ve checked everything we know how to check, and now we’re trying to figure out what comes next.”

“I would hate to see this tour end before it even begins.”

For half a second, nervousness passed across the Heartbreakers’ faces.

A viewer would have needed to be extraordinarily perceptive to notice it.

Then their smiles returned.

“This tour is happening,” Jenny declared. “If we have to travel by foot, camel, taxicab or shopping cart, the Heartbreakers will be there.”

The reporter nodded.

“I believe you.”

The live interview continued for another five minutes. When it ended, the cameraman switched off the camera.

The news crew didn’t immediately leave.

For the next half hour, they lingered in the parking lot and chatted with the Heartbreakers. The reporter asked about their old tours, yesterday’s unexpected concert and their plans for the new one. He even listened proudly while Heather explained that she was the band’s new drummer in training.

Anything was better than returning to the french-fry-eating geese.

Eventually, the reporter looked toward the open hood of the bus and shook his head.

“I’m genuinely excited about your tour,” he said. “But this bus situation really does stink. I wish I knew how to help you.”

A deep mechanical rumble rolled across the parking lot.

Everyone turned.

An enormous tow truck pulled in beside the tour bus.

The driver climbed out. He was an older man, slightly pudgy and beginning to bald beneath his work cap. He removed the cap as he approached Jenny.

“Ma’am, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“I saw you on the news. I saw that your tour bus was broken, and I’d be grateful if you’d let me take a look at it.”

Jenny blinked.

“Why?”

She quickly corrected herself.

“I mean—yes. Thank you.”

The man twisted his cap between his hands.

“I have a daughter who’s like you.”

Jenny’s expression softened.

“She wasn’t going to stay with us,” he continued. “She had decided that the world was too painful.”

His voice trembled.

“Then she heard your song ‘Hey Jenny’ on the radio. She stopped. She found your album and listened to that song over and over again for days.”

The Heartbreakers fell completely silent.

“Then she came to me,” he said. “She was crying and terrified, but she told me about herself. I didn’t understand everything. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say or do.”

Tears gathered in his eyes.

“But I knew that I loved her. I assured her that nothing she could ever tell me would change that. When she finally told me, I just held her.”

His voice broke.

Jenny stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

He stood in her embrace for several seconds before wiping his eyes.

“Anyway,” he said, struggling to continue, “I’m eternally grateful to you. If you’ll allow me, I will go through this bus from top to bottom. I’ll make sure it can carry you through any tour, anywhere. And if anything ever happens to it again, you can call me anytime.”

No one spoke.

Heather’s eyes overflowed with tears. Dani held one hand over her heart.

Jenny gave the man a warm, radiant smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “Yes. We would be honored.”

She kissed him gently on the cheek.

“And please tell your daughter that she is brave, she is wonderful, and every one of us adores her.”

Kit was suddenly standing beside Jenny with a Heartbreakers shirt and a pen.

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Sarah.”

Jenny placed the shirt across the table and began writing.

To Sarah, you beautiful girl.

Your daddy loves you very much.

Jenny and the Heartbreakers are glad you’re here.

Love, Jenny.

She handed him the shirt.

He bent forward slightly and took a deep breath. Then he carefully folded it and wiped more tears from his face.

“She’s going to love this.”

He placed the shirt safely inside his truck and got to work.

“I’m going to take the bus back to my shop,” he explained. “We’ll put it on the lift and find out exactly what’s wrong.”

Once the tour bus had been secured behind the enormous tow truck, the Heartbreakers climbed aboard.

Riding inside a bus while it was being towed was almost certainly illegal.

Nobody asked.

The tow truck pulled away with the Heartbreakers waving through the windows.

Cal watched them leave.

Then he turned toward Luis.

“Did you get that?”

Luis stared back at him.

He had been too stunned to remember the camera.

“No.”

Cal’s shoulders collapsed.

“Oh, man. We should’ve gotten that.”

The tour bus rolled down the highway behind the tow truck, all six women swaying gently with every turn. For a while, they simply stared at one another, still trying to comprehend everything that had happened.

Heather crossed the bus and stopped beside Dani.

“Look.”

She held out a sheet of paper covered in fresh handwriting.

Dani’s face immediately opened into a fantastically large smile.

“Look at you! Let’s see what you wrote. Oh—this is fantastic!”

She placed her hand over Heather’s heart and smiled.

Then she took the paper and began to read.

Her playful excitement slowly settled into something more serious.

“Ooh,” she murmured. “This is really nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. This is genuinely really good, Heather. And it’s your first song.”

Heather beamed with pride.

From behind the steering wheel, Kit glanced into the long mirror that gave her a view of the back of the bus. She saw the commotion gathering around Dani and Heather.

“Hey!” she called. “You can’t go stealing my drummer!”

Dani laughed. So did Heather.

“She can do both!” Dani shouted back.

The whole bus chuckled.

Dani sat beside Heather, and the two of them began going through the song together, talking quietly about the words and where the melody might rise and fall.

Jenny watched them for a moment. Then a thought struck her.

“You know what? We could have him take us straight to Mel’s.”

Before anyone could stop her, Kit rolled down the driver’s-side window, leaned half her body outside, and began frantically waving a pair of drumsticks at the tow-truck driver.

“HEY!”

“Kit!”

Jenny lunged forward and grabbed Kit around the waist before she could tumble out onto the highway.

The tow-truck driver noticed the drumsticks flailing behind him and pulled onto the shoulder.

Jenny was out the door almost before the vehicles had stopped moving. She hurried to the tow truck and reached the driver’s window before the man could climb out.

“Could you take us over to Atlantis Crown Records?”

“Sure,” he said. “My pleasure.”

“Thank you.”

Jenny climbed back aboard the bus and found Kit waiting behind the wheel, drumsticks still in hand.

Jenny stared at her. Then she raised both hands.

“What?”

Kit returned her stare with an expression of perfect innocence.

“What?”

Jenny shook her head and sat down.

Part Four - Chapter 4

“There she is,” Jenny announced sometime later. “Atlantis Crown Records.”

Calling Atlantis Crown Records large would have been an understatement. The company had been responsible for no less than ten percent of the songs appearing in the Top 100 over the past three decades. Its enormous glass-and-steel tower rose above the surrounding buildings like a monument to its own importance.

The tow truck stopped in front of the main entrance.

The Heartbreakers climbed out. They waved goodbye as the driver pulled away again, taking the wounded tour bus with him to his repair shop.

Then the women turned and looked up at the tower.

“All right, ladies,” Jenny said. “Hands in.”

They formed a circle, but Heather remained a few feet away, uncertain whether she was included.

Jenny waved her closer. “You too, squirt. Come on.”

Heather hurried over and added her hand to the others.

“Three, two, one—”

“HEARTBREAK!”

They stormed into Atlantis Crown Records in a fast, determined single file, like an army that had somehow misplaced all its weapons except for a pair of drumsticks.

They marched straight past the reception desk.

“Excuse me!” Sally called after them. “You can’t—”

They were already at the elevators.

Security alarms began ringing behind them as the doors closed.

Jenny pressed the button for the seventh floor.

The elevator rose.

When the doors opened again, the Heartbreakers burst out together—and there was Mel, waiting for them.

He sat behind an enormous desk with a cigar in one hand and the other resting comfortably on his potbelly. The entire office appeared to have been sealed sometime during the 1970s and never disturbed afterward. It had seventies furniture, seventies carpeting, seventies liquor, and the unmistakable smell of several thousand seventies cigars. Nothing looked as though it had been properly cleaned since disco was young.

Mel leaned back in his chair, utterly unsurprised.

“There are my lovely girls. Glad to see you.” He took a puff from his cigar. “Saw you on the news again today. Shame about that tour bus.”

“You don’t have to worry about the tour bus,” Jenny said. “It’s already being taken care of.”

“Good. Good.”

“You owe us a tour, Mel, and we’re not leaving until we get it.”

“Of course you’re not. I wouldn’t leave either, if I were you. Sit down. Sit down. We can all be cordial here.”

The women remained standing.

Mel waved toward Sally. “Bring the ladies some Pepsi.”

He looked them up and down.

“Better make that Diet Pepsi.”

Then he laughed.

Every Heartbreaker in the room scowled at him.

“All right, regular Pepsi. Whatever.” Mel lowered his cigar. “Now, what do you want me to do? We don’t have the money for this kind of tour.”

“You have the money,” Jenny said, gesturing around the gigantic office.

“It’s all in equity. Nothing liquid. You understand these things.”

Jenny turned away, fighting her frustration. She took a breath, gathered herself, and turned back with a warm smile.

“Look, Mel. We toured for you for thirteen years. Thirteen. We sold tickets. We sold albums. We sold out arenas. We worked hard, and we made you and this company a lot of money.”

Mel shifted slightly in his chair.

“We did a good job for you,” Jenny continued. “Now give us the tour you promised us.”

For just a moment, Mel appeared moved.

Then he shook it off.

“Oof. Look, kid, it’s nothing personal. I don’t want to lose money on this thing. That’s the deal. You can’t sell enough tickets. Nobody knows you anymore.”

“We still have fans.”

“Old fans, sure. But nobody new knows you. Nobody spending money knows you.”

Heather started to speak, but Max gently held up a hand.

Mel studied the women standing before him. He rolled the cigar between his fingers and thought.

“All right,” he finally said. “You want a tour?”

“Yes,” Jenny answered.

“You think people want to come and see you?”

“We know they do.”

“Then prove it.”

The room fell silent.

“I’ll book you the biggest stadium around,” Mel said. “Twenty thousand seats. You fill that place, and I’ll fund the rest of the tour.”

The Heartbreakers looked at one another.

Twenty thousand seats.

They were excited. They were terrified. Filling an arena after twenty-eight years away was one thing. Having to do it before they had played a single comeback concert was something else entirely.

“All twenty thousand,” Mel continued. “Not halfway. Not three-quarters. I want people all the way to the top. You fill every section, and you get the tour—the whole thing. The kit and caboodle.”

“Yeah!” Heather shouted. “We’ll do it!”

Everyone turned toward her.

Heather swallowed, but she didn’t back down.

“We’ll fill it.”

The others found their courage.

“That’s right,” Max said.

“We’ll do it,” Kit agreed.

“Every seat,” Roxy said.

Dani nodded. “All the way to the top.”

Mel rose and held out his hand.

“Shake on it, kid.”

For half a moment, Jenny saw her whole life pass before her—the clubs, the arenas, the endless highways, the thirteen-year tour, the twenty-eight years that had followed, and the battered old bus carrying them back toward the stage.

Then she seized Mel’s hand and gave him the biggest, firmest, quickest handshake of her life.

“Deal.”

Mel smiled.

“All right. You’ve got one week.”

The excitement vanished from their faces.

“One week?” Jenny repeated.

“Hey, you say you’re popular. If you’re popular, you’re popular.”

“Mel—”

“I happen to have a stadium that needs an act. The band we booked says they’re sick. They’re not sick. Half of them are sleeping with the other half, and now none of them will speak to one another. I don’t know. The whole thing is more trouble than it’s worth. The point is, the stadium is available, and it’s yours.”

“One week,” Jenny said.

“One week,” Mel confirmed. “Fill twenty thousand seats, and you get your tour.”

The Heartbreakers stared at him.

Mel sat back down, placed the cigar between his teeth, and smiled.

“Better get started.”

“All right,” Jenny said. “We just need our hotel booking.”

Mel looked at her across the desk.

“Boy, you’re sure playing this game all the way through, aren’t you, Jenny?” He sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll tell you what—I’m going to hook you up at the Waldorf. How do you like that, kid?”

Jenny smiled.

“The Waldorf?”

The room erupted.

“Woo!”

“The Waldorf!”

Even Heather joined the celebration. She had no idea what the Waldorf was, but everyone else seemed thrilled, and that was good enough for her.

“All right, I’ll see you later,” Mel said. “You’ve got one week. Good luck.”

The Heartbreakers headed downstairs and waved cheerfully to Sally as they passed the reception desk.

Once they reached the street, Max looked around.

“Hey, we’re going to need transportation to the Waldorf.”

Almost on cue, a shuttle bus pulled around the corner and stopped in front of them. The doors opened, and the Heartbreakers piled inside.

The celebration began before the shuttle had even pulled away.

“Woo!”

“You did it!”

“I can’t believe we did it!”

Jenny and Max bounced excitedly in their seats. Kit attacked the back of the seat in front of her with her drumsticks, playing an ecstatic solo. Heather joined in on the next seat, missing the rhythm at first but quickly catching up.

Dani danced in the aisle while Roxy began what she liked to call “Roxy and rolling,” performing a ridiculous boogie as the shuttle carried them toward their luxurious accommodations.

Eventually, the bus stopped.

Jenny looked through the window.

Then she looked at the driver.

“What is this?”

“The Waldorf,” he answered.

Jenny stared at the building outside.

It was not a five-star hotel.

A large, brightly colored sign stretched across the front:

THE WALDORF PIZZERIA AND BOWLING ALLEY

A considerably smaller sign pointed toward several rooms around the side.

Kit’s mouth fell open.

“That son of a—”

She never finished.

Jenny burst into hysterical laughter. A moment later, the others joined her.

“Mel,” Roxy said, shaking her head. “And here I was, pretty sure he’d grown a heart.”

“Well,” Jenny managed between laughs, “at least it’s a pizzeria.”

Everyone understood what that meant.

Half the band headed toward the rooms to investigate their accommodations. The other half—Roxy, Dani, and Heather—went directly into the pizzeria.

At the counter, Dani studied the menu.

“We’ll take two large anchovy pizzas and two two-liter bottles of Pepsi.”

The woman behind the counter shook her head. “We don’t have Pepsi. We only have Coke.”

Roxy immediately started laughing.

A deep grimace spread across Dani’s face.

“Better make those extra anchovies, then, so I don’t have to taste it.”

“Don’t be such a sore loser,” Roxy said.

“You exaggerate.”

“Oh, no.” Roxy grinned. “You ought to count your blessings. We finally have a real beverage around here.”

Heather couldn’t help laughing.

By the time they carried the pizzas and Coke back to the rooms, the others had already inspected the lodging.

They had been given two connecting rooms containing two double beds each. They were going to be sleeping practically on top of one another, but after thirteen years on the road together, that was hardly a new experience.

Jenny and Kit claimed one bed. Roxy took another, Max took the third, and Dani settled onto the fourth.

That left Heather standing between the rooms, uncertain where she belonged.

After a moment, she moved toward Dani. They had been working together on the lyrics to Heather’s new song, and remaining close to her felt natural.

Everyone gathered around the pizzas and started tearing into the extra-anchovy slices. Jenny reluctantly poured herself a Coke. She took a sip but decided not to comment.

Then she clapped her hands.

“All right. Let’s do this.”

The eating slowed.

“We need to brainstorm how we’re going to get twenty thousand people into an arena in one week.” Jenny looked around at the Heartbreakers. “Any ideas?”

Half an hour later, Jenny looked around the room.

“Any ideas at all? Any ideas?”

Silence.

The Heartbreakers contemplated the problem while finishing their pizza. They stared at the walls, the ceiling, and one another, occasionally making thoughtful noises between bites.

Finally, Heather spoke.

“What about that news crew? You know, maybe they could help us or something.”

Max snapped her fingers.

“Yeah. Maybe we can get ahold of them. We can go back on television and tell everyone about the concert—where it is, how much the tickets cost, and all that stuff. They seemed to like us. They’d probably be up for it.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Jenny said. “But we need more. I don’t know what, but we need more.”

They returned to silence.

“We could sing in the middle of the street and cause a traffic jam,” Dani suggested.

Every eye in the room turned toward her.

“What?” Dani said. “We need attention.”

Kit suddenly straightened.

“I’ve got it. We’ll do a Beatles.”

“A Beatles?” Max asked.

“We’ll find a rooftop and start playing. We just need a really good location.”

Everyone considered it.

“Where would that be?” Jenny asked.

Kit looked around.

“I don’t know.”

“Are there any big events happening?” Max asked. “Something with television cameras and lots of people?”

Dani froze with a slice of anchovy pizza halfway to her mouth.

Her eyes widened.

She dropped the slice onto her plate, shot to her feet, and started jumping up and down.

“Rock ’n’ roll! Rock ’n’ roll! Rock ’n’ roll! The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction is happening!”

The room went completely silent.

Then it erupted.

“Yes!”

“That’s perfect!”

“Is that this weekend?”

“I think so!” Dani shouted. “Somebody look it up!”

Heather already had her phone out.

Dani began pacing excitedly between the two rooms.

“The Rock Hall ceremony will be happening inside Peacock Theater. The GRAMMY Museum is right there, and it has the Ray Charles Rooftop Terrace. We get onto that roof and start playing. All the fans and television crews will be gathered below in Peacock Place.”

She pointed triumphantly at Kit.

“We’ll do a Beatles!”

Kit raised both drumsticks in victory.

“We just have to get there,” Dani said.

Jenny held up a hand.

“Well—when is it?”

Heather stared at her phone.

Dani looked toward the clock.

“Tonight!”

It was two o’clock Saturday morning.

Heather continued scrolling.

“She’s right. The ceremony is Saturday night at Peacock Theater in downtown Los Angeles.”

Max leaned over Heather’s shoulder and studied the map.

“That’s only about two hours from here.”

Jenny looked around the cramped motel rooms.

“Two hours—if we had something that moved.”

“We should probably get some shut-eye while we have the time,” Jenny said.

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “That’s a good idea.”

The Heartbreakers settled into their beds. One by one, they yawned, closed their eyes, and attempted to sleep.

Unfortunately, they were far too excited.

Adrenaline continued pumping through them as they imagined the Rock Hall ceremony, the rooftop, the television cameras, and thousands of people gathered below.

Two hours passed.

“Anybody asleep?” Max called through the darkness.

“No,” Dani answered.

“My feet are asleep,” Kit said.

Jenny giggled.

“Yeah. This isn’t working.”

She sat up and looked at the time.

Four o’clock in the morning.

“We need our bus.”

Feeling a little guilty but considerably more desperate, Jenny found the number for the repair shop and placed the call.

The telephone rang several times.

Finally, someone answered.

“Hello?”

The voice was muffled and barely conscious.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“It’s Jenny.”

“Jenny?”

“I was wondering how the tour bus is coming along.”

There was a long pause.

“We worked on it all day and into the evening,” the shop owner said. “It still needs a few more hours, but I think we can finish it sometime today.”

“Yeah, see—here’s the thing. We have a concert tonight.”

“You do?”

“We’re going to be playing in Los Angeles. The people there don’t exactly know we’re playing yet, but we need to get there as soon as possible. I know you’re already doing us an enormous favor, but I was wondering if there was any way—”

“No, no, no. I understand.”

She heard movement on the other end.

“All right. Let me get myself ready.”

More movement followed, along with what sounded like something falling onto the floor.

“All right,” he said again. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

“You don’t sound awake.”

“I’m getting there. I’ll head down to the shop now. You can meet me there, and I’ll start working as soon as I can. Wow, I need to wake up.”

Then his voice suddenly brightened.

“Hey—would it be all right if my daughter came by?”

Jenny smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Of course. I would love to meet her.”

“Sarah is going to love this.”

The thought of his daughter meeting her favorite band finished what the alarm clock had failed to accomplish. He sounded fully awake now.

“If you could bring me some coffee, though, I sure would appreciate it.”

“Absolutely. We’ll bring coffee.”

He immediately hung up.

Jenny lowered the phone.

“Woo! All right, he agreed. He’s heading to the shop now. We just have to get there.”

Dani checked the distance on her phone.

“It’s only about twenty minutes on foot. By the time we call an Uber and wait for it, we could already be halfway there.”

“That works,” Max said. “It’ll get the adrenaline pumping. Plus, there’s a gas station down the street.”

The Heartbreakers packed their belongings and whatever food remained, then abandoned the Waldorf.

They hop-skipped, shuffled, and sleepwalked their way down the road until they reached the gas station.

Everyone ordered coffee.

Max looked toward Heather.

“Sorry, kid. No hot chocolate. I guess you’re graduating.”

Heather accepted the cup suspiciously. She took one cautious sip and immediately scowled.

Max removed the lid and poured in a heroic quantity of sugar and cream.

“Here. Try it now.”

Heather tried again.

“Yum.”

She gave Max a thumbs-up.

“Ah,” Max said. “Thought so.”

Then she noticed the ancient hot dogs rotating beneath the heat lamps. She collected several of them for breakfast.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate these,” she said. “I know I will.”

By the time the Heartbreakers reached the repair shop, the owner was just arriving. They handed him a large coffee and two breakfast hot dogs.

He laughed.

“Well, I’m much obliged. Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He took a long drink of coffee.

“My daughter is really going to appreciate meeting you. I don’t know exactly when she’ll get here, but she said she’ll come as soon as she can.”

“We would love to meet her,” Jenny said.

He unlocked the shop, switched on the lights, and went to work.

As the excitement finally began to wear off, the Heartbreakers collapsed into the shop’s collection of extraordinarily uncomfortable waiting-room chairs.

One by one, they fell asleep.

Approximately three hours later, a young woman entered the shop.

She was about twenty-four, very pretty, and wore a white dress covered in flowers. She stopped when she saw her favorite band sprawled across her father’s uncomfortable chairs.

Her eyes widened.

She moved quietly across the shop until she found her father working beside the tour bus.

“That’s them,” she whispered excitedly. “That’s really them!”

Her father looked toward the sleeping Heartbreakers and smiled.

“Yes, they are. I told you.”

Sarah turned toward the enormous black tour bus.

“This is it?”

“This is it.”

She climbed aboard and looked around. A moment later, she emerged again with wonder covering her face.

“Wow.”

“It’s almost finished,” her father said. “You mind giving me a hand?”

Sarah eagerly shook her head. She pulled on a pair of work gloves and began handing her father tools and parts while he worked.

About an hour later, the Heartbreakers gradually awakened.

When Jenny opened her eyes, she found the young woman standing in front of them, smiling and waving.

“The bus is done,” Sarah announced.

Jenny stared at her for half a second.

Then she knew.

“Sarah?”

Sarah nodded.

Jenny rose and went directly to her, wrapping her in a tremendous hug.

“Oh, darling, I’m so happy to see you. Your daddy told us all about you. He absolutely lights up whenever he speaks about you.”

Sarah held on to her.

“I can’t believe you’re real.”

Jenny laughed.

“I can’t believe I’m real either.”

She gently held Sarah by the shoulders.

“You’re a wonderful girl, and I’m very proud of you. Your daddy adores you. He couldn’t stop gushing about you.”

Sarah turned toward her father. He stood several feet away, smiling at them.

Jenny leaned closer and whispered, “He loves you so much.”

Sarah’s eyes glistened.

Then Jenny smiled mischievously.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”

“We’re having a concert tonight, and I would like you to be there.”

Sarah’s entire face became radiant.

“Really?”

“Now, here’s the thing. Nobody knows we’re performing. The only people who know are standing inside this shop.”

Sarah listened intently.

“So you have to keep it quiet. Don’t tell your friends. Don’t tell anybody. Just happen to show up outside Peacock Theater tonight, and you’ll see us.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Sarah promised.

“Good.”

The shop owner wiped his hands on a rag.

“Well, the bus is finished.”

The Heartbreakers immediately rushed outside.

The tour bus was pristine from top to bottom. The enormous black exterior had been cleaned and polished until it gleamed. The pink lettering and lightning-split heart looked freshly painted.

Inside, it was even more astonishing.

The floors shone. The windows sparkled. The seats, couches, tables, and counters looked almost new.

Jenny stared around in disbelief.

“What did you do?”

The shop owner shrugged.

Part Four - Chapter 5

“This is what we do. We fix things and detail them. I had my crew take care of the cleaning while I worked on the mechanical problems. They’re really good at that.”

He affectionately patted the side of the bus.

“This is an older model, though. I’m about the only person around here who still knows how to work on one properly.”

He smiled.

“But she’s ready.”

“So are we,” Jenny said.

“All right, girls. Let’s rock and roll.”

Max began thumping her leg in rhythm. Roxy rocked and rolled in her seat. Heather wore a gigantic grin.

Dani did not.

Her face had settled into a look of fierce concentration. She understood exactly how important this was—and exactly how badly it could go if they were caught.

Kit took the wheel. As the bus pulled away, Jenny waved through the window at Sarah.

Sarah danced in place before throwing her arms around her father. He hugged her back, laughing, while the magnificent black-and-pink bus carried the Heartbreakers toward Peacock Theater.

“All right,” Jenny said. “The plan is fake it till you make it.”

“Well, that’s better than three chipmunks in a trench coat,” Dani said.

Everyone started laughing.

“Here’s what we do,” Jenny continued. “We drive straight in, go in full blaze, and dare them to stop us. All we have to do is make enough commotion to get our equipment upstairs. Then we leave and sneak back in later. Two phases. First, we pour straight through the doors like we own the place.”

“That’s a bold move,” Roxy said, twisting open a Coke. “I like it.”

Dani nodded thoughtfully.

“Well,” she said, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

Everyone slowly turned and stared at her.

“What?” Dani asked.

Heather placed a practice pad across her knees and began drumming. She was attempting to drum away her nervousness.

It was not working.

When they reached Peacock Theater, Kit drove directly toward the loading entrance.

The freshly restored tour bus did its job magnificently. Gleaming black paint, brilliant pink lettering, and that enormous lightning-split heart made it look as though it belonged exactly where it was going.

The guards waved them straight through.

“All right, ladies,” Jenny said. “Full rock star.”

The doors opened, and the Heartbreakers stormed out without so much as glancing at security.

The plan worked for one ridiculous reason: nobody expected famous rock stars to sneak into a building as themselves.

Because of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame events, the guards knew exactly who Jenny and the Heartbreakers were. By the time any of them considered asking questions, Roxy was already directing two guards toward the equipment compartments beneath the bus.

“You, sweetheart—grab that end,” she ordered. “Careful with it. That costs more than your car.”

One of the guards immediately grabbed the case.

Dani marched behind them wearing her most intimidating expression.

“We’re already behind schedule,” she said. “Please keep moving.”

The second guard hurried to obey.

Kit separated from the group and headed straight for the Ray Charles Rooftop Terrace. She wanted to find out how much equipment had been left behind and how much they would have to smuggle upstairs themselves.

When she reached the performance area, she discovered complete darkness.

Not one light was burning.

Kit turned on the flashlight on her phone and swept its narrow beam across the stage. Speakers, amplifiers, microphone stands, monitors, cables, and other equipment slowly emerged from the blackness.

There was a great deal more there than she had expected.

With enough time, they might be able to build an entire working stage from what had been left behind. It would probably take a couple of hours—especially in the dark—but it could be done.

Assuming they found electricity.

Max and Jenny soon joined her, accompanied by two security guards carrying equipment cases.

Jenny stared into the darkness.

“Where’s the power?”

The guards looked at each other.

Then they looked back at Jenny.

Neither one answered.

“You don’t know?” Jenny asked.

They exchanged another helpless glance.

“We’ll have to find maintenance,” Max said.

She started to leave, but Jenny caught her arm.

“Not yet. If we start asking maintenance questions, somebody might start asking us questions.”

“But we need power.”

“First we get everything inside,” Jenny said. “Then we figure out how to turn it on.”

Heather, Dani, and Roxy soon arrived with the remaining equipment. The guards used their flashlights to illuminate the way and helped carry everything into the performance area.

Fortunately, most of what the Heartbreakers needed was already waiting on the rooftop. They only had to provide their personal gear and instruments.

The largest addition was the drum kit.

Piece by piece, they carried it inside and assembled it in the darkness.

For the next two hours, the rooftop became a maze of moving flashlight beams. Kit and Max worked through tangles of cables. Heather helped assemble the drums. Jenny directed traffic while Dani maintained such a convincing air of professional urgency that nobody dared question her.

Roxy employed a slightly different strategy.

By the time she finished deploying a highly persuasive combination of charm and flirting, several security guards were carrying equipment, holding flashlights, and helping position amplifiers without having the slightest idea who had authorized any of it.

Eventually, everything was in place.

The microphones were standing. The amplifiers were connected. The monitors were positioned. The drum kit was assembled. Their personal equipment was ready.

The stage looked prepared for a concert.

There was only one small problem.

They still had no power.

Roxy had taken several of the enormous banners they once used on tour and spray-painted the new concert date across them.

“Almost done,” Roxy hissed as she finished the final number with a flourish.

“Ooh, these fumes. These fumes. I love ’em.” She winked at Heather.

Heather burst out laughing.

Roxy snapped the cap onto the spray can and began rolling up the banners.

“All right. The idea is, just before we start, we hurl these over the side.”

Jenny surveyed the darkened stage. The instruments were assembled, the equipment was connected, and the banners were ready.

“Yeah,” she said. “Now we just have to come back in about three hours and give the performance of our lifetime.”

Dani remained serious. Her eyes moved around the terrace, searching for anything they might have overlooked.

“All right. We need to go,” she said. “But what are we going to do about the power?”

Everyone fell silent.

“The moment we turn on the building’s power, somebody’s going to know we’re up here,” Dani continued. “I think we should chain the doors once we start.”

Jenny laughed.

“Yeah, okay. I like it.”

Heather danced excitedly beside her newly assembled drum kit.

“Anybody know where the breaker box is?”

Nobody answered.

Heather stopped dancing.

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we run an extension cord?”

Kit began laughing.

A moment later, everyone else joined her.

Heather stared at them.

“What?”

Kit’s laughter gradually faded.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “That might actually work.”

Heather’s face brightened.

“I don’t mean an actual extension cord,” Kit continued. “But the bus has its own generator. If we can find a heavy-duty power line long enough, we could run everything from the bus.”

“And they wouldn’t even know we’d turned anything on,” Jenny said.

“Exactly.”

Kit raised her flashlight and began searching through the equipment stored around the terrace.

“Let’s see what they’ve got up here.”

Everyone spread out.

A few moments later, Roxy screamed from across the darkness.

“Oh, look! Would this work?”

She stood beside an enormous reel of thick black electrical cable.

Kit hurried over, examined the cable, and checked both ends.

“Yeah,” she said. “This is perfect.”

They placed a heavy chain beside the entrance and arranged it so they could secure the doors within seconds when they returned.

Then they unspooled the electrical line.

They ran it from the stage, along the wall, down the hallway, and all the way to a window overlooking the area where they could park the tour bus. The remaining cable was left coiled beneath the window.

Just before the performance, they would hurl the free end outside and connect it directly to the bus’s generator.

The theater’s power could remain completely shut off.

With the stage prepared, the banners rolled, the chain waiting, and their secret power line in place, the Heartbreakers confidently walked out of the building.

They had nearly three hours before the performance.

They decided to get some lunch.

As the Heartbreakers headed toward the exit, they spotted the security guards who had helped them with the equipment. The guards appeared to be leaving too.

“Hey,” Kit called. “You guys are leaving?”

“Yeah,” one of them said. “Shift change. We’ve gotta check in before we go, but we’ve still got about ten minutes.”

The other guard volunteered a little more information.

“We’re just the regular day-to-day crew. When there’s a big event, they bring in a special security team to make sure everything’s tight. Those guys go through every hallway and every room. By the time they’re finished, this place is gonna be a fortress.”

Every Heartbreaker went white.

“What?” the guard asked, still trying to flirt.

“Nothing,” Roxy said, waving goodbye a little too enthusiastically. “Have a lovely shift change.”

The women kept walking until they were out of earshot.

Then they began to panic.

“Okay, calm down,” Jenny said. “Everybody calm down.”

“They’re going to search the terrace,” Dani said. “They’ll find everything.”

“I know. That means we can’t leave and come back. We’re going to have to stay inside until the concert.”

Max suddenly took off sprinting toward the gas station.

“Hey!” Jenny shouted. “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting lunch!” Max yelled over her shoulder.

“All right—everybody else back into the theater before anybody notices.”

Jenny, Kit, Roxy, and Dani hurried back inside.

Heather hesitated, looked toward the gas station, and then sprinted after Max.

Max hit the store at full speed and began sweeping food from the shelves. She grabbed several packages of hot dogs, buns, mustard, ketchup, chips, a few bottles of Coke, a few bottles of Pepsi, and one small bottle of Coke specifically for Roxy.

Heather arrived just in time to help carry everything.

They dumped their armfuls onto the counter. While the cashier rang up the food, Max snatched several candy bars from a nearby display.

Heather grabbed another bag and helped Max haul everything out of the store.

They sprinted back toward Peacock Theater.

As they approached, several rather large men in dark suits were beginning to arrive.

The special security team.

Max and Heather broke into an all-out run. They flew through the entrance, raced upstairs, and charged into the rooftop theater.

Max slammed the doors behind them and immediately began whipping the heavy chain around the handles.

“Wait!” Dani hissed. “Unchain it! Unchain it!”

“What?”

“The power cable! It’s still in the hallway!”

Max tore the chain loose again. Several of the women grabbed the thick electrical line and began frantically hauling it back into the theater. If the security team found a giant cable running down the hallway, it would lead them directly to the stage.

They pulled the last section through the doorway and piled it inside. They would have to reroute it over the terrace when the time came.

At the far end of the hallway, the elevator chimed.

The theater doors closed just as the elevator doors began to open.

Max wrapped the chain around the handles and snapped the padlock shut.

Everyone froze.

Footsteps entered the hallway.

The women stood sweating and out of breath, clutching grocery bags, hot dogs, electrical cable, and one another as the security team began its sweep.

Doors opened and closed.

Handles rattled.

Men spoke quietly into radios.

The footsteps came closer.

Nobody inside the theater made a sound.

The handle suddenly jerked.

The chain snapped tight.

Every Heartbreaker stopped breathing.

Someone pushed against the doors a second time.

The chain held.

“Locked,” a man said from the hallway.

Another man tested the doors.

“Secure. Move on.”

The footsteps continued down the hall.

Still, nobody moved.

They waited until the voices had faded and the security team had begun checking another section of the building.

Then six women released the same enormous breath.

Roxy started laughing.

Heather collapsed onto the floor with her arms and legs spread like a snow angel. Her entire body shook with a gigantic, completely silent belly laugh.

Soon everyone was laughing with her.

Everyone except Jenny.

Jenny stood near the edge of the darkened terrace, staring out across the city. In her mind, she could already see the banners falling open. She could hear the music. She could imagine the people below turning their faces upward as Jenny and the Heartbreakers came roaring back to life.

Dani approached her.

Her game face was still firmly in place.

“We’re going to be all right,” she said. “We’re going to do this. We’re really going to do this.”

She wrapped Jenny in a tight hug.

“You made this happen for us. You did this, Jenny.”

Jenny smiled.

“We all did this.”

She turned and looked back at the others.

Kit discovered an old coffee pot beside a utility sink. One lonely service outlet still had power—not nearly enough to operate a rock concert, but more than enough to boil hot dogs.

Kit filled the coffee pot with water, dropped in the hot dogs, and switched it on.

Soon the Heartbreakers were enjoying a delicious lunch of boiled hot dogs, chips, candy bars, Coke, and Pepsi while hiding from a professional security team inside a dark rooftop theater.

Roxy received her specially selected little bottle of Coke.

The hours crept past.

Several times, someone returned to check the doors. Each time, the handles rattled, the chain held, and the footsteps eventually moved away.

Every inspection silenced the room.

At last, only thirty minutes remained before the concert.

The stage was waiting.

The banners were ready.

The Heartbreakers’ hearts were pounding.

Part Four - Chapter 6

Showtime.

A sizable crowd had gathered in the plaza below. Among them were several television crews the Heartbreakers had quietly tipped off, though none of the reporters knew exactly what they were waiting to see.

Sarah had remained true to her word.

She had not told a soul.

Technically.

She had told her friends that she was going to an event and that it was going to be awesome. She had not told them what the event was, where it was taking place, or who was involved.

Her Heartbreakers T-shirt remained hidden beneath her zipped jacket. Her phone was ready. The moment the band began playing, she intended to reveal the shirt, tell her friends what was happening, and order them to get down there immediately.

Up on the rooftop, Jenny checked the time.

She had studied the security patrols carefully. The guards passed through the hallway every ten minutes. Once the next patrol left, the Heartbreakers would wait one additional minute before moving.

That would leave them nine minutes to remove the chain, unroll the heavy electrical cable, run it down the hallway, throw it from the window, connect it to the bus, return to the terrace, secure the doors, and begin playing.

Plenty of time.

Probably.

Jenny gathered everyone into a huddle.

She looked into every woman’s eyes.

“We did this,” she said. “No matter what happens next, we did this. We got here. Somehow, we did the impossible and got ourselves all the way to this theater.”

Her voice began to tremble.

“We gave ourselves a shot. We believed in us, and we gave ourselves a shot. I’m proud of all of you. Every single one of you.”

Dani and Roxy smiled.

Tears glistened in Max’s eyes.

Kit looked around the circle with unmistakable pride, giving each member of the band an approving thumbs-up.

Heather took a deep breath and placed her hand in the center of the huddle. One by one, the others placed their hands over hers.

The handle on the theater doors rattled.

Everyone froze.

Footsteps passed through the hallway. A radio crackled. Several guards spoke quietly to one another before entering the elevator.

The doors closed.

The elevator descended.

Jenny raised one finger.

They waited one minute.

Nobody spoke. They counted the seconds inside their heads while their hearts attempted to escape through their ribs.

Jenny watched the final second disappear from her phone.

“Boom,” she whispered. “Go time.”

Max unlocked the padlock and ripped the chain from the doors.

The Heartbreakers exploded into the hallway.

Kit and Dani carried the enormous coil while Max and Roxy pulled the cable behind them. Jenny and Heather raced ahead, clearing anything that might catch the line.

The thick black cable unrolled down the hallway behind them.

They reached the window overlooking the parking area, heaved the remaining coil onto the ledge, and hurled the free end toward the tour bus.

The cable dropped through the air and struck the pavement beside it.

Everyone stared down.

Kit’s face tightened into a grimace.

There was a problem.

A rather obvious problem.

The cable was lying beside the bus.

Somehow, in all their planning, they had failed to consider that the cable could not connect itself.

It was not the first time something like this had happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” Dani said. “I was so excited.”

Kit turned toward Heather.

“Look—you know the three songs.”

Heather blinked. “Yeah.”

“If anything happens, you play.”

“What?” Jenny, Roxy, and Dani demanded simultaneously.

Kit launched herself through the open window.

Jenny lunged for the back of her jacket, but Kit was already gone.

“Kit!”

Kit caught the heavy cable and used it like a rappelling line, half sliding and half falling toward the parking lot.

The others watched in open-mouthed horror as she descended.

Kit reached the pavement, stumbled forward, regained her balance, and sprinted toward the tour bus. She grabbed the cable, plugged it into the generator connection, and switched on the power.

Far above her, tiny lights awakened across the amplifiers and sound equipment.

They had power.

“Hey!”

Kit slowly turned.

Two members of the special security team were approaching her.

“What are you doing here?” one demanded.

Kit smiled sweetly.

“Oh, you know. I’m just part of the show.”

She pulled open her jacket, displaying her Heartbreakers shirt, and pointed toward the enormous black-and-pink tour bus.

The guards were not impressed.

They knew who Jenny and the Heartbreakers were. They also knew exactly who was authorized to perform that night.

“Famous or not, ma’am, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“It was a last-minute addition,” Kit said. “Very last minute. So last minute, apparently nobody had time to mention it.”

“That’s all well and good, but you’re going to have to come with us. You can explain it to our captain.”

One of the guards looked past her.

His eyes settled upon the thick electrical cable.

Then his gaze began traveling upward.

Kit saw it happening.

If he followed that cable, he would find the others.

Kit bolted.

She sprinted away from the bus and the generator.

Both guards charged after her.

From the window above, Jenny watched Kit race across the parking area. The guards caught her, seized her by the arms, and began leading her away.

Roxy stared down at them.

“She sacrificed herself.”

Dani turned toward the theater.

“Then we make it count. Come on!”

Jenny grabbed Heather’s hand.

They raced back down the hallway, dragging the loose cable behind them. Once everyone was inside, Max slammed the doors and wrapped the chain around the handles.

“Hit the banners!” Jenny shouted.

Roxy and Dani grabbed the enormous rolled banners and hurled them over the edge of the terrace.

The banners snapped open as they fell.

The old Heartbreakers artwork towered above the plaza, now emblazoned with the date of their official Friday-night concert.

A roar rose from the crowd.

Television cameras swung upward.

Inside the rooftop theater, the remaining Heartbreakers rushed into position.

Max grabbed her instrument. Roxy strapped on her guitar. Dani hurried to her place.

Heather stood motionless beside the drum kit.

Without Kit, she would have to play.

All the color had drained from her face.

Jenny took Heather by the shoulders.

“All right, Heather. You’ve got this.”

Heather looked at the drums.

“We’re dropping one song,” Jenny continued. “We’re doing two. That’s all we need. Two songs.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Look at me.”

Heather forced herself to meet Jenny’s eyes.

“You’re our drummer, right?”

“Drummer in training.”

“And cowbell.”

“Cowbell,” Heather whispered.

“Right. You know the songs. You can do this.”

Heather swallowed, sat behind the drums, and raised the sticks with trembling hands.

Jenny hurried to the microphone.

The equipment was alive. The banners were flying. Hundreds of faces were turned toward them.

They had lost Kit.

They had almost no time.

But they had made it.

Jenny looked back at Heather and began the count.

“One, two, three, and—”

The theater doors burst open.

The chain snapped tight for an instant before the handles tore apart.

Four security guards barreled into the room.

Roxy reacted first. She lunged for the opening chord, but a guard caught her arm and pulled her away before her pick could strike the strings.

Another guard seized Max.

Two more rushed toward Dani and Heather.

Jenny watched it happen as though time had suddenly slowed.

She saw Roxy struggling to reach her guitar.

She saw Heather dragged away from the drum kit, still clutching the sticks.

She saw Dani shouting.

She saw Max fighting to remain on her feet.

Then Jenny turned toward the crowd below.

Hundreds of people were staring upward.

Sarah stood among them with her jacket still closed and her phone in her hand, waiting for a first note that would never come.

The band was being taken.

The dream was being taken.

Everything they had fought for was being torn away at the exact moment it was supposed to begin.

They had reached the theater.

They had built the stage.

They had raised the banners.

They had counted to four.

But Jenny and the Heartbreakers never played a single note.

Security removed the Heartbreakers from the rooftop while television cameras recorded every crushing second.

Kit was already being held downstairs. Four police officers came to collect the other five women.

Three officers took Jenny, Roxy, and Dani. That left the fourth attempting to control both Max and Heather.

He held Max with one hand and clutched the back of Heather’s jacket with the other. The two women pulled in opposite directions, making it impossible for him to hold them both securely.

Heather spotted the open stairwell door.

She pulled her arms inside her jacket and twisted sharply. The jacket slipped completely off, leaving it in the officer’s hand and Heather wearing only her dress.

She gathered up her skirt and ran.

“Hey!”

The officer lunged after her, but he couldn’t release Max without losing her too.

Heather vanished through the stairwell door and escaped down the stairs.

***

The Roadrunner pulled up outside the county detention center.

Cal Mercer jumped out, followed closely by Luis Ortega.

They had expected a story.

They had not expected complete chaos.

Police cars crowded the entrance. Officers moved through clusters of shouting people while another transport vehicle arrived carrying approximately fifteen drunken men who had been arrested after tearing apart a nearby bar.

Some of the people outside had come because of the bar fight. Others were family members, friends, curious bystanders, or random participants in entirely unrelated disasters.

A sizable group had come because of Jenny and the Heartbreakers.

Sarah stood among them. Her jacket was now open, revealing the Heartbreakers T-shirt she had intended to unveil when the music started.

There had never been any music.

Luis raised his camera.

“Three, two, one.”

The red light came on.

Cal turned toward the confusion behind him.

“This is Cal Mercer reporting live for Metro 8 News outside the county detention center, where there is a tremendous commotion tonight. Jenny and the Heartbreakers have been arrested following their attempted performance at the rooftop theater.”

Luis slowly panned across the crowd.

Several Heartbreakers fans called Jenny’s name. Sarah pushed closer, trying to see through the police vehicles and gathering crowd.

Behind them, the men arrested in the bar fight shouted incoherently while officers attempted to move them into the building.

Cal continued.

“At this time, we do not know precisely what charges Jenny and the Heartbreakers are facing. We do know that security stopped their performance before the band could play a single note.”

***

Jenny, Max, Roxy, Dani, and Kit had been placed together in a women’s holding cell.

Two other women shared the cell with them—tired-looking ladies in glittering dresses whose evening’s business had apparently ended much earlier than expected.

Jenny sat on the bench with her head lowered.

Max suddenly looked around the cell.

“Did they get Heather? I don’t see Heather.”

“I think she got away,” Roxy said.

“I saw her slip out of her jacket and run down the stairs,” Max said. “But I don’t know what happened after that.”

“I didn’t see her,” Kit admitted.

Jenny lifted her head and stared at Kit.

“You were completely crazy. Why did you leave us?”

“Somebody had to do it,” Kit replied. “I wasn’t going to let us go down like that. Besides, I knew we had a backup drummer. It was only a few songs.”

The adrenaline that had carried them through the rooftop began to fade.

Nobody had the strength to argue.

They had reached the theater. They had assembled the equipment. They had lowered the banners and announced their concert to the entire city.

They had come within one second of playing.

Now they were sitting in jail.

The excitement drained from the cell, leaving exhaustion and despair behind.

Two sheriff’s deputies approached.

One of them stopped outside the bars and studied the women with a scowl.

“You’re Jenny and the Heartbreakers, yeah?”

Jenny looked up.

“Who are you?”

His eyes settled upon her.

“You’re that guy who thinks he’s a girl, right?”

The entire cell went silent.

Jenny stared back at him.

The deputy smirked and walked away.

Several minutes later, he returned with two more deputies.

“All right,” he said. “It appears you’ve been locked up in the wrong place.”

He pointed at Jenny.

“There are no men allowed in the women’s section.”

Jenny’s heart sank.

“What?”

“Shawn McAfee,” the deputy said. “Right? That’s your real name.”

“No, it isn’t my real name!” Jenny screamed. “You know my real name. I had it legally changed!”

The deputy shrugged.

“Nah.”

He unlocked the cell.

The moment the door opened, the Heartbreakers surrounded Jenny.

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Max said.

The deputies pushed into the cell.

Kit tried to block them. Dani grabbed Jenny’s arm while Roxy wrapped both arms around her waist.

The deputies forced them apart.

One seized Jenny beneath the arms while another grabbed her legs.

“No!” Jenny cried. “Please! Please don’t put me in there!”

Max, Dani, Roxy, and Kit fought to reach her, but the deputies dragged Jenny through the doorway and slammed the cell shut behind them.

“Jenny!” Max screamed.

Jenny twisted desperately in their grip.

“Please don’t take me in there! Please!”

The deputies carried her down the corridor.

The men’s holding cell was crowded with roughly fifteen detainees. Several were drunk. Many had been brought in from the bar fight. Others sat against the walls or paced restlessly through the confined space.

Almost every face turned when Jenny appeared.

One deputy opened the door.

“Here you go, boys.”

They threw her inside.

Jenny stumbled, caught herself, and immediately spun back toward the closing door.

She clung to the bars.

“Please!” she begged. “Please don’t leave me in here! Please! Please!”

The deputy looked through the bars at the men behind her.

Then he turned to his partner.

“Hey. Feel like getting lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll have to go down the street.”

“Yep.”

“Could take a while.”

The other deputy smiled.

“A long lunch.”

They walked away.

Jenny continued begging until their footsteps disappeared.

Behind her, the men began to stir.

Jenny pressed herself against the bars.

Part Four - Chapter 7

Back at the theater, Heather crouched in the shadows of a service hallway, struggling to breathe quietly.

She had escaped down the stairwell, but she had not dared leave the building. Security officers were still moving through the corridors. Every radio crackle and distant footstep sent her deeper into hiding.

Nearly two hours passed before she found the courage to move.

Heather cautiously stepped into the hallway. She listened, peered around the corner, and slipped through a rear service exit.

The tour bus was still outside.

So was a heavy-duty tow truck.

A tow-truck driver was preparing the bus for removal. He had already secured part of the towing equipment beneath it.

Heather ran toward him.

“Hey! Hey, you can’t take this bus! This is our bus!”

The driver looked up from his equipment.

“Sorry. I’ve got the paperwork. Removing it is my job.”

“I’ll move it,” Heather pleaded. “I can move it right now.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“Please. You saw what happened. They took everybody. They took all my friends.”

The driver looked at Heather standing before him in her shortened wedding dress, without a jacket, terrified and completely alone.

His expression softened.

“Look, I can’t let you take this bus,” he said.

Heather’s face fell.

“I got to go take a leak.”

The driver looked down at the release latch on the towing equipment.

“Whatever you do, don’t touch that latch while I’m gone. If you pull it, the bus will be released.”

Heather followed his gaze.

The driver pointed toward another connection.

“And definitely don’t disconnect that. Otherwise, there’d be nothing keeping the bus attached to my truck.”

He turned and walked toward the building.

Heather waited until he disappeared through the door.

Then she pulled the latch.

The towing equipment released the bus.

Heather disconnected the remaining equipment, pulled the heavy power cable from the generator, and climbed behind the wheel.

The engine roared to life.

Heather did not know exactly where the police had taken the others, but she remembered the general direction in which the police vehicles had traveled.

She pulled onto the road and began searching.

The flashing lights made the detention center easy to find.

Police vehicles surrounded the building. A crowd had gathered outside, and several television crews—including Cal, Luis, and the Roadrunner—were reporting from the entrance.

Heather continued past without slowing.

A Walmart stood a little farther down the road and across from the detention center. She turned into its enormous parking lot and drove toward the farthest corner, hiding the bus behind several delivery trucks where it would not be readily visible from the street.

Heather switched off the engine.

She remained behind the wheel, still wearing her dress and breathing hard as she watched the distant flashing lights.

Somewhere inside that building were Jenny and the Heartbreakers.

***

Jenny had not moved from the cell door.

She wrapped both arms around the bars and pressed her face against them, clinging to the door like a security blanket. Some desperate part of her seemed to believe that if she pressed hard enough, she might somehow force her entire body through the narrow spaces and escape.

Her knuckles had turned white.

Her eyes were glazed and unfocused.

Behind her, men began gathering.

Jenny refused to look. She didn’t have to look.

She could feel them.

She could feel their eyes moving across her. She could hear their footsteps and low voices drawing closer.

***

In the women’s holding cell, Roxy slammed both hands against the door.

“Let her go!”

She kicked the bars so hard the entire door shook.

“Let her go, you monsters! You pieces of shit! Let her go!”

Max grabbed Roxy from behind and struggled to pull her away.

“You gotta calm down! Roxy, you gotta calm down!”

“Let her go!” Roxy screamed. “You monsters!”

Kit stood at the bars, pale and silent, her hands clenched tightly around them.

Dani paced feverishly through the corner of the cell, praying beneath her breath.

“Please, God. Please protect her. Please keep her safe.”

She turned, walked several steps, and turned again.

There were no deputies in sight.

No one came to answer Roxy’s screams.

The corridor remained completely empty.

***

Across the street, hidden near the far end of the Walmart parking lot, Heather sat alone behind the wheel of the tour bus.

She struck the steering wheel with the palms of both hands.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Jenny had taught her what drums were for when words stopped working.

Beat out the anger.

Beat out the fear.

Beat out every frustration until there was nothing left inside except the rhythm.

Heather pounded the steering wheel as if her life depended upon it. Her hands became an improvised drum kit, striking the wheel, dashboard, and steering column with increasing force.

She beat for Jenny.

She beat for Max, Roxy, Dani, and Kit.

She beat until her arms burned and the steering wheel creaked beneath the punishment.

Eventually, Heather had nothing left.

Her hands dropped into her lap. She leaned forward, rested her forehead against the wheel, and struggled to catch her breath.

Then she looked toward the flashing lights and the crowd surrounding the detention center.

She could do nothing but stare.

***

Jenny heard another footstep behind her.

Then an enormous hand—almost as broad as a serving platter—settled upon her back.

It began moving slowly across her.

A voice spoke close to her ear.

“You’re too pretty to be a boy.”

Jenny went rigid.

“HEY!”

The single word thundered through the holding cell.

Every face turned.

A gigantic man rose from the far corner.

He stood at least seven feet two inches tall and weighed well over five hundred pounds. A skullcap covered his head, and unmistakable gang colors stretched across his enormous body.

A massive mustache hung from his face in two long ropes that reached nearly to his belly.

The giant stared across the cell.

His eyes moved over the men gathered behind Jenny before settling upon the one whose hand had been resting against her back.

The hand immediately disappeared.

Nobody spoke.

The men slowly began moving away.

Then they began moving much faster.

Within seconds, the space behind Jenny was empty.

The giant continued staring until everyone had retreated. Then he lowered his head, returned to his corner, and sat down.

He said nothing else.

Jenny’s legs finally gave way.

She slid down the bars and collapsed into the corner beside the cell door. She pulled her knees tightly against her chest and wrapped both arms around them.

She had not felt this helpless since she was fifteen.

Before Roxy.

Before Max and Dani.

Before Kit.

Before the Heartbreakers.

Jenny stared into nothing.

The giant remained seated in his corner with his head lowered.

No one approached her again.

***

The days crawled past.

Jenny rarely moved from the corner beside the cell door. She spoke almost nothing. The enormous man with the long mustache remained in his own corner, and no one dared come near her again.

In the women’s section, Roxy demanded a telephone every time footsteps passed their cell. Her demands were ignored.

Across the street, Heather stayed close to the hidden tour bus. She watched the detention center and waited for the Heartbreakers to come out.

They never did.

Then the day of the concert arrived.

It was nearly seven o’clock in the evening. Jenny and the Heartbreakers were supposed to take the stage at nine.

In the women’s section, Roxy began shouting again the moment she heard footsteps.

“We’re supposed to get a phone call! You hear me? We’re supposed to get a phone call!”

A young deputy appeared at the end of the corridor.

He looked barely old enough to be wearing the uniform. He had clearly heard what the other deputies had done to Jenny, and he was not brave enough to openly disobey them.

But he was sympathetic enough to stop.

“We’re supposed to get a phone call,” Roxy repeated. “Please.”

The deputy glanced nervously over his shoulder.

Then he unlocked the cell.

“One call.”

He escorted Roxy to a telephone near the booking desk.

Her hands trembled so badly that she could barely dial.

Sal answered.

“Yeah?”

“Sal, please,” Roxy gasped. “Please help Jenny. They put her in the men’s section. You have to get her out of there.”

***

Across the street, Heather finally left the bus to buy more food.

She entered Walmart still wearing the shortened wedding dress. Without the Heartbreakers jacket, she felt exposed and painfully noticeable, but she forced herself to keep moving.

She bought enough supplies to last for a while and hurried back across the parking lot carrying several grocery bags.

The tour bus remained hidden behind the delivery trucks.

As Heather approached, she noticed a man standing beside it.

He had his back partially turned and seemed to be studying the Heartbreakers artwork painted along the side.

One of Heather’s bags slipped in her hand.

A can struck the pavement and rolled away.

The man heard it.

“Hey,” he called without looking directly at her. “Have you seen the women whose bus this is?”

Heather stopped breathing.

The second grocery bag slipped from her fingers.

Food spilled across the pavement.

The man turned.

Heather stared at him in shock and absolute panic.

Jimmy.

He had seen the Heartbreakers on the news. The moment he learned they had been arrested, he had traveled as quickly as possible to find them.

At first, Jimmy did not understand why the frightened young woman in the white dress was staring at him that way.

Then he looked more closely at her face.

Confusion crossed his expression.

Recognition followed.

Then came the scowl.

“Look at you,” he said.

Heather backed away.

Jimmy’s voice rose into a scream.

“Look at you!”

***

Inside the detention center, Roxy gripped the telephone with both hands.

“It’s too late for that,” Sal told her.

“No! Please, Sal. I’ll do anything. Anything! I’ll marry Anthony. I’ll love him forever. I swear it. I swear!”

There was a long silence.

Roxy heard muffled voices on the other end of the line.

“Hold on,” Sal said.

More indistinct discussion followed.

Roxy squeezed her eyes shut.

“Please,” she whispered.

***

Jimmy continued screaming at Heather.

He stepped toward her, threatening bodily harm as she retreated between the parked delivery trucks.

Heather’s groceries lay scattered across the pavement.

“When I get my hands on you—”

***

“All right,” Sal finally said. “All right, kid. It’s your lucky day.”

Roxy opened her eyes.

“What?”

“Looks like he’s willing to take you back.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Sal. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your new husband-to-be.”

Roxy pressed the telephone tightly against her ear.

“How soon can you get here?”

Sal chuckled.

“Oh, Roxy. We’re already here.”

Part Four - Chapter 8

Jimmy lunged toward Heather.

She stumbled backward and fell among the scattered groceries.

A black bag suddenly dropped over Jimmy’s head.

His threats became muffled shouts as several men in finely tailored suits seized him from every direction. They twisted his arms behind his back and dragged him away from Heather.

Jimmy struggled, but he could not break free.

Another figure emerged from between the parked vehicles.

Sal straightened his jacket, looked down at the terrified young woman sitting among the scattered groceries, and smiled.

“Hey there, girly. Nice dress.”

He put on a broad smile and offered Heather his hand. She hesitated before taking it, and Sal gently helped her to her feet.

The other men immediately began gathering Heather’s groceries. They retrieved every can and package from the pavement, carefully returning everything to the bags like proper gentlemen.

Sal examined Heather’s dress.

“Vera Wang,” he said with a knowing smile.

Heather stared at him.

“Looks like you’re already dressed for a wedding. And as it turns out, it looks like you may be the maid of honor.”

Behind him, the men dragged Jimmy toward one of the black trucks. The bag remained over his head as he struggled and shouted threats through the fabric.

They tossed him inside, slammed the door, and sped away.

Heather watched the truck disappear.

“What will happen to him?”

“You got better things to think about,” Sal replied. “It’s a happy day. It’s a wedding. Your friend’s getting married. Don’t you worry your pretty head about that.”

Sal offered Heather his arm.

Two of his men carried her groceries while the others escorted her toward the waiting limousines.

***

At seven o’clock on the evening of the concert, Max, Roxy, Dani, and Kit were finally released from the county detention center.

They were processed together and escorted through the front doors. The crowd that had gathered several days earlier was gone.

Only Sarah remained.

She hurried toward the Heartbreakers, but Max immediately looked back at the entrance.

“Where’s Jenny?”

Nobody answered.

They gathered near the doors and waited.

***

The older deputy approached the men’s holding cell wearing a broad smirk.

Jenny was still curled beside the door.

“Well, look at that,” he said. “Looks like you made bail, Shawn.”

Several detainees chuckled. The deputies accompanying him laughed as well.

Only the young deputy remained silent.

The enormous man with the long mustache did not laugh either. He remained seated in his corner with his head lowered.

The older deputy unlocked the door.

“Come on, Shawn. Hope you enjoyed your stay.”

Jenny slowly pulled herself to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her as the deputies escorted her through the detention center and processed her release.

The moment the exterior door opened, Jenny flew through it.

Max caught her first.

Then Roxy, Dani, and Kit surrounded them. They wrapped their arms around Jenny and one another, holding her as tightly as they could.

Jenny began to cry.

They cried with her—clinging together in the middle of the walkway, overwhelmed with relief that they had all survived and were together again.

Four long black limousines rolled to the curb.

Sal stepped from the first one with several of his men. Heather walked beside him in the shortened Vera Wang dress. Anthony Marzulli followed, smiling brightly in anticipation of finally receiving his ninety-three-year-old heart’s desire.

Sal spread his arms.

“Looks like we got a wedding.”

His smile widened.

“Looks like we got a wedding party here.”

Jenny slowly released Max and looked at Roxy. Her eyes were still glassy and unfocused.

“What did you do?”

Roxy did not answer her.

She turned toward Anthony and placed the biggest, brightest smile she could manage upon her face.

“I get to marry the most wonderful man in the world.”

Anthony beamed.

Roxy’s eyes moved past him and settled upon Sal.

Sal gave her a slow nod of approval.

Then he clapped his hands together.

“All right. You ladies need to get ready for the wedding.”

Roxy stared at him.

“You mean right now?”

“Of course right now.”

The drivers opened the limousine doors. Sal’s men ushered everyone inside, and the entire procession pulled away from the detention center.

They traveled only a short distance before turning into the Walmart parking lot.

The Heartbreakers’ tour bus remained hidden near the far end, behind several delivery trucks.

The four limousines spread out around it, forming a makeshift barrier that concealed a large section of the parking lot. Several vans and trucks followed them into position.

Then their doors flew open.

Men poured out carrying chairs, tables, rolled carpets, boxes of flowers, portable speakers, garment bags, decorations, and enough equipment to stage a royal wedding.

They worked with astonishing speed.

Rows of elegant chairs appeared upon the asphalt. A long white aisle runner stretched between them. Tall floral arrangements rose on either side, and an enormous flower-covered arch was assembled at the far end. Tables were covered in spotless white linen. Gold ribbons, candles, and crystal decorations transformed the Walmart parking lot into something magnificent.

The giant blue Walmart sign remained visible above it all.

Sal approached Roxy carrying a garment bag.

He unzipped it and revealed a brand-new Vera Wang wedding gown. It was entirely different from the first, but every bit as magnificent.

Roxy stared at it without speaking.

Sal’s men brought forward more garment bags and boxes.

“I got something for everybody,” he said. “Why don’t you ladies go get yourselves changed?”

He looked at Heather.

“You’re already dressed. Why don’t you hang back and help decorate? We could use a woman’s touch.”

Sal gave her a broad smile.

Everyone looked at Heather.

For a moment, she appeared stunned by what he had called her. Then one of Sal’s men handed her an arrangement of flowers.

Heather began carefully repositioning the blossoms.

Jenny, Roxy, Max, Dani, and Kit carried the garment bags into the tour bus.

The door closed behind them.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Roxy dropped the Vera Wang gown.

They collapsed into one another’s arms.

Jenny clung to Roxy and began crying.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “You don’t have to do this. We can take the bus and leave. Right now. We can just take off.”

Jenny looked through the window.

Heather was still outside, arranging flowers beside Sal.

Sal slowly turned his head toward the bus.

Then he looked at Heather.

He didn’t have to say anything.

Jenny understood.

“He thought of everything,” Roxy said.

Jenny continued staring through the window.

“He always thinks of everything,” Roxy added.

She wiped the tears from Jenny’s face.

“It’s all right. This is no price at all. Anthony is a very kind man, and this is no big deal if it makes sure you’re okay—if it makes sure we’re all okay.”

Roxy picked up the garment bag.

“This is good,” she said. “This is good.”

She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself.

Max suddenly tore away from the others and slammed both hands against the back of one of the bus seats.

She struck it again.

Then she kicked the seat across the aisle.

“We were so close!”

Max struck another seat.

“We were right there!”

It was already past seven. The concert was supposed to begin at nine.

Max stopped hitting the seats.

“I can’t believe we’re going to miss the concert.”

Everyone looked at her.

Roxy wiped her eyes.

“Well, at least you’re not going to miss my wedding,” she said. “I always wanted all of you there.”

For a moment, nobody knew whether to laugh or cry.

They did a little of both.

Then they pulled themselves together.

They wiped away their tears, opened the garment bags, and began changing.

***

By the time the women stepped out of the tour bus, the transformation was complete.

The parking lot looked magnificent.

Sal’s men stood beside Anthony as groomsmen, their finely tailored suits decorated with matching boutonnieres.

The Heartbreakers took their places as bridesmaids. Heather stood closest to Roxy as maid of honor, still wearing the altered Vera Wang gown and surrounded by the flowers she had helped arrange.

Roxy stood beside Anthony Marzulli in her new wedding dress.

Anthony gazed at her as though he were the luckiest ninety-three-year-old man alive.

The same preacher who had conducted the first ceremony stood beneath the floral arch. He opened his book, looked over the reunited wedding party, and drew a deep breath.

“All right,” he said. “From the top.”

Someone pressed a button on the portable stereo.

Wedding music began playing across the Walmart parking lot.

Roxy wore the biggest, brightest smile of them all.

Max, Dani, Kit, and Heather produced fantastically enormous smiles of their own.

Jenny couldn’t manage that.

The best she could do was keep herself from frowning.

Roxy had asked them to sell it.

Anthony’s agreement had gotten Jenny released from the men’s holding cell. Whatever else this wedding represented, Roxy was grateful that Jenny had been protected.

She needed Anthony to believe that.

She needed Sal to believe it.

So the Heartbreakers smiled.

The preacher looked down at his book.

And the wedding began again.

He looked at Roxy.

“Do you, Roxy Valdez Diego, take Anthony Joyous Marzulli to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Roxy turned toward Anthony and gave him a magnificent, warm smile.

“Yes,” she said with tremendous enthusiasm. “Yes, I absolutely take him to be my husband.”

It was a performance—but not entirely.

Part of Roxy’s answer was sincere. She was grateful to Anthony. His agreement had gotten Jenny out of that cell and brought the Heartbreakers back together. Whatever this marriage might cost her, Roxy would never forget that.

The preacher turned to Anthony.

“And do you, Anthony Joyous Marzulli, take Roxy Valdez Diego to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Anthony looked directly into Roxy’s face.

A large smile spread across his own.

“No.”

The preacher nodded automatically.

“I now pronounce you—”

He stopped.

“What?”

Anthony continued smiling.

“No. I do not.”

The entire wedding party gasped.

“I won’t let her marry me,” Anthony said. “Her life is out there with them.”

He looked toward Jenny and the Heartbreakers—and beyond them, toward their tour bus.

“I won’t take that from her.”

Anthony lowered his head.

“I love her too much.”

For one stunned moment, Roxy could only stare at him.

Then she threw both arms around Anthony and gave him the biggest kiss of his life.

Everyone gasped again.

Roxy hugged him tightly, laughing and crying with joy. Then she leaned close to his ear and whispered:

“Thank you.”

***

Anthony remained beside Roxy for one final moment.

Then he straightened his shoulders and walked toward the nearest limousine.

For a ninety-three-year-old man, he moved with astonishing spryness—far more determined than he had looked in decades. One of Sal’s men opened the limousine door for him, and Anthony climbed inside with more dignity and class than anyone had ever seen.

No one gave an order to dismantle the wedding.

No one packed a single chair, flower, candle, or crystal glass.

Sal’s people silently climbed into their limousines, trucks, and vans, abandoning everything exactly where it stood.

Sal was the last to leave.

Before entering his limousine, he looked at Roxy.

“See you in the funny pages.”

Then he climbed inside.

The doors closed. The engines started, and the entire procession quietly pulled away.

Within moments, they were gone.

The Heartbreakers stood alone in the middle of a magnificent million-dollar wedding abandoned in a Walmart parking lot.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Roxy walked to one of the tables, grabbed a bottle of champagne, and opened it. The cork shot across the parking lot.

She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank directly from it.

Dani took the bottle from her and drank as well.

Still stunned, the Heartbreakers looked at one another.

Kit finally checked her watch.

“We still got time.”

Max stared at her.

“For what?”

“The concert.”

Jenny looked at Kit.

The expression on her face was filled with grief—so raw and exhausted that it almost resembled disgust.

Then, without saying a word, Jenny turned and walked into the tour bus.

The others watched her disappear.

One by one, they followed.

Part Four - Chapter 9

They found Jenny near the back of the bus, clawing at her dress.

She pulled at the zipper, the sleeves, and the fabric, trying desperately to tear it away from her body. Her hands shook so badly that she could barely free herself.

Then the crying came.

It was not the quiet crying she had done outside the detention center.

Jenny began weeping hysterically.

The accumulated weight of several days of fear finally collapsed upon her—the arrest, the deputies, the men’s holding cell, the watching eyes, the hands reaching toward her, and the terrible certainty that no one was coming to help.

She ripped the dress away, dropped to the floor, and curled herself into a ball.

Roxy knelt beside her.

“Jenny?”

Jenny did not respond.

Dani tried to hold her.

Kit spoke softly to her.

Max stood nearby, helpless and frightened.

Nothing reached her.

Minutes passed.

Nine o’clock came and went.

Somewhere across the city, their concert had begun—or was supposed to have begun.

Kit finally collapsed into one of the bus seats. She pressed her forehead against the padded headrest and began to weep. She pounded one fist against the armrest again and again.

Her best friend was lying nearly catatonic upon the floor.

Their concert was disappearing.

Their tour was disappearing.

Everything was being lost at the same time, and Kit had no idea how to save any of it.

Heather slowly approached Jenny.

She knelt beside her, her own voice already breaking.

“Come on, Jenny. We can make it.”

Jenny looked at her.

Her eyes were open, but they seemed to be staring through Heather.

For the first time since she was fifteen, Jenny admitted the one thing she had always been too strong—or too frightened—to say.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Heather’s eyes filled with tears.

“Look what they did to me,” Jenny whispered. “They put me in a men’s prison.”

Her breathing became shallow and rapid.

“They were all around me. They were all around me.”

Heather wrapped both arms around her.

Jenny clung to her.

“They called me Shawn,” she cried. “They called me Shawn.”

Heather did not know what to say.

She could not repair what had been done to Jenny. She could not make the memories disappear. She could not promise that the world would never do the same thing to her.

Heather released Jenny.

Then she grabbed the front of her own dress and began tearing at it.

The sound of ripping fabric finally brought Jenny’s eyes into focus.

“What are you doing?”

Heather pulled harder, tearing one of the seams.

“If they can do that to you, then what am I?”

She ripped at the dress again.

“I’m nothing!”

The scream filled the bus.

Something broke open inside Jenny’s heart.

She pushed herself up from the floor. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she managed to stand.

Jenny caught Heather’s hands before she could tear the dress again and pulled her close.

“It’s okay,” Jenny whispered. “It’s okay.”

Heather collapsed against her.

“I’m okay,” Jenny said. “I’ll be okay.”

She repeated the words even though she did not yet know whether she believed them.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

Jenny and Heather held one another for what seemed like forever.

Eventually, still holding Heather in her arms, Jenny looked across the bus at Kit.

“Let’s go.”

Max stared at her.

“It’s too late.”

Jenny tightened her arms around Heather.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go.”

***

Kit ran to the front of the bus.

She dropped into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and brought the engine roaring to life.

The tour bus pulled away from the abandoned Walmart wedding and headed toward the stadium.

Nobody spoke during the journey.

They were now somewhere between forty-five minutes and an hour late. They no longer expected to find a concert waiting for them. They were going simply because going was all they had left.

Then the stadium lights appeared in the distance.

Mel had kept his word.

There it was.

As the bus drew closer, however, they began seeing vehicles everywhere—cars, trucks, vans, and enormous crowds still moving toward the stadium.

Then they heard music.

At first, it was only a distant vibration.

The closer they came, the louder it became.

The windows of the tour bus began trembling with the sound.

Max looked outside.

“What’s going on?”

Kit continued toward the performers’ entrance.

More buses appeared along the service road—enormous custom tour buses parked one after another.

Then the Heartbreakers recognized them.

They were the same buses they had seen during the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction events.

The same ones.

Dani began crying first.

Then Roxy.

Max covered her mouth. Kit stopped the bus, and for several seconds, none of them could move.

Finally, the doors opened.

The Heartbreakers stepped outside.

There, hurrying toward them, was Sarah—the young woman they had lost track of when Sal’s limousines swept them away from the detention center.

“Sarah?” Jenny whispered.

Sarah reached them with tears streaming down her face.

“They came.”

Jenny looked toward the rows of tour buses.

“What?”

“When you were taken, everybody saw,” Sarah explained. “Then I started texting my friends, and they started texting people. Everybody kept telling everybody else.”

The music thundered from inside the stadium.

“We told them what happened,” Sarah continued. “We told them they put you in the men’s prison.”

She looked toward the performers’ entrance.

“They came.”

Jenny stood outside the stadium with the other Heartbreakers, staring toward the performers’ entrance and listening to the impossible sound coming from within.

Music.

Thousands upon thousands of people cheering.

Kit grabbed Jenny by the arm.

“Come on. Let’s go!”

She desperately pulled Jenny toward the entrance, and the others hurried after them.

The moment they entered the backstage corridor, the music became deafening. It thundered through the concrete walls and vibrated beneath their feet.

Then Jenny recognized the song.

“Dancing with Myself.”

And she recognized the voice singing it.

Billy Idol.

Jenny stopped walking.

She couldn’t believe it.

He had come.

They had all come.

One of the stage managers spotted the Heartbreakers and froze in complete bewilderment.

“It’s them!” he shouted. “You’re here!”

He began frantically waving toward the stage, trying to get Billy Idol’s attention.

During an instrumental break, Billy glanced toward the wings.

He saw Jenny.

A tremendous grin spread across his face.

Billy pointed directly at her and waved the Heartbreakers onto the stage.

Jenny shook her head, still unable to move.

Kit pushed her forward.

The instant Jenny stepped into the lights, the audience saw her.

The reaction was one enormous, thunderous pop.

The entire stadium seemed to erupt at once.

Jenny stood beneath the lights in absolute shock as Billy Idol approached her. He extended the microphone toward her.

She did not have time to think.

She simply began singing.

Her body remembered the stage before her mind could catch up. Her voice came out bruised, emotional, and gloriously alive as she joined Billy Idol in “Dancing with Myself.”

The crowd became even louder.

The rest of the Heartbreakers charged onto the stage.

Their instruments were waiting for them in the wings—plugged in, tuned, and ready, as though someone had known they would eventually arrive.

Max grabbed her bass. Roxy slung a guitar over her shoulder. Dani lifted her saxophone. Kit raced for the drums, while Heather seized a pair of sticks and joined the percussion setup beside her.

Within moments, Jenny and the Heartbreakers were playing with Billy Idol.

From the stage, Jenny finally saw the audience.

The stadium was not merely full.

It was overflowing.

Every seat was occupied. The floor had become a vast sea of people, and thousands more filled the surrounding concourses and the plaza outside, where enormous screens carried the concert to those who could not get inside.

Some had been touched by Jenny’s songs.

Some had seen what had been done to her and understood exactly what it meant.

They had brought their friends. Their families. People who loved the Heartbreakers. People who simply loved the music.

Sarah’s message had traveled from one person to another until it had become something no one could stop.

They had all come.

When “Dancing with Myself” ended, Billy Idol raised Jenny’s hand above her head.

The roar nearly lifted the roof from the stadium.

Other musicians crowded the wings, applauding and shouting encouragement. The performers whose tour buses were parked outside had kept the concert alive while they waited for the Heartbreakers.

Now the night belonged to Jenny.

It belonged to all of them.

The Heartbreakers played alongside their guests for several songs. Then the other musicians gradually stepped back, leaving Jenny and the band alone beneath the lights.

Jenny looked at Kit.

Kit raised her drumsticks.

Max and Roxy exchanged grins. Dani lifted her saxophone. Heather stood beside the second percussion rig, scarcely able to believe where she was.

Kit counted them in.

Jenny and the Heartbreakers launched into their own music.

The audience knew every song.

They sang the words back at Jenny so loudly that she sometimes lowered her microphone and simply listened.

The band tore through its two biggest hits and kept going. They played songs they had not performed together in years. They made mistakes, laughed through them, and played even harder.

They were exhausted.

They were unprepared.

They had spent several days in jail and had arrived almost an hour late.

None of it mattered.

They were together.

They were playing.

They were alive.

During one of the fastest songs, Roxy ran to the edge of the stage and dove into the audience.

The crowd caught her.

Roxy sailed over the sea of raised hands, laughing uncontrollably as the audience carried her farther and farther across the stadium floor.

Max watched her go.

“Oh, absolutely not!”

She set down her bass, sprinted across the stage, and jumped after her.

The crowd caught Max as well.

The two Heartbreakers surfed across the audience, disappearing into the vast sea of people before slowly making their way back toward the stage. Fans passed them overhead from one person to the next until security caught them near the barricade and lifted them safely back onto the platform.

Roxy reclaimed her guitar.

Max grabbed her bass.

They never missed the next song.

Nearly two hours passed.

Finally, Jenny stepped toward the microphone.

“We have one more song we want you to hear.”

The audience cheered.

Jenny looked across the stage at Heather.

“Our newest member has a song.”

Heather’s eyes widened.

Jenny smiled.

“All right, Heather. You’re up.”

Heather stared at her.

“Me?”

Dani appeared beside her holding the lyric sheets.

Heather looked down at the pages and then back at Jenny.

“Now?”

“Yep,” Jenny said. “It’s time.”

Heather’s hands began trembling.

Jenny returned to the microphone.

“This is the latest song from the newest member of Jenny and the Heartbreakers.”

The audience quieted.

“Her name is Heather—and this is ‘Heart Song.’”

The first notes began.

Heather stepped toward the microphone.

Her voice trembled when she started singing, but the Heartbreakers gathered around her. Jenny joined first. Then Roxy, Max, Dani, and Kit added their voices.

Heather looked at them.

Her voice grew stronger.

Thousands of phones slowly rose throughout the stadium. Their lights glimmered in the darkness until the audience resembled an endless field of stars.

The crowd began swaying.

From the front row to the highest seats, they moved together as Heather sang her song.

She had entered the tour bus carrying another person’s name.

Now she stood before a stadium filled with people, singing a song that belonged entirely to her.

Offstage, near the far corner of the wings, Mel watched with a large cigar in his hand and an enormous smile upon his face.

When “Heart Song” ended, the stadium remained silent for one breathless moment.

Then the ovation came.

Heather covered her mouth.

Jenny wrapped an arm around her and guided her to the front of the stage. The other Heartbreakers joined them, and the entire band bowed together.

They left the stage laughing, crying, and holding one another.

Mel was waiting for them.

“I knew you could do it, kid,” he told Jenny. “I knew you had it in you.”

The Heartbreakers burst out laughing.

“Sure, sure,” Jenny replied. “We knew you believed in us.”

She gave him a wink.

Mel stared at her.

“What was that for?”

The laughter became even louder.

Then the chanting began.

“HEART-BREAK-ERS!”

The walls shook with it.

“HEART-BREAK-ERS!”

Jenny looked at the others.

Kit twirled one drumstick between her fingers.

“Well?”

The Heartbreakers ran back onto the stage.

They played an encore.

The audience demanded another.

They played a second encore.

Still, the crowd refused to leave.

So Jenny and the Heartbreakers returned for a third and final encore.

As they took their places, they found Sarah standing in the front row.

Sarah was crying.

Jenny waved to her.

Then Kit waved.

One by one, every member of the Heartbreakers raised a hand toward the young woman whose message had filled an entire stadium.

Sarah waved back with both arms.

Jenny looked around the stage.

Kit sat behind the drums. Max and Roxy stood with their instruments ready. Dani held her saxophone. Heather—still overwhelmed from performing her first song—stood among them as the newest Heartbreaker.

They looked at one another.

And they smiled.

This was their final song of the night.

But it was not their finale.

It was only the first date of the tour—the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Jenny raised the microphone.

“Jenny and the Heartbreakers are back!”

The stadium exploded.

Kit struck the opening beat.

The lights blazed.

Jenny and the Heartbreakers began to play, knowing they would never be separated again.

Epilogue

Jenny and the Heartbreakers kept their promise.

They were never separated again.

Heather grew into one of the most valued members of the band. Under Kit’s relentless instruction, she mastered timing, control, and the ability to land every beat precisely where it belonged.

In time, Heather became a precision drummer nearly as good as Kit.

Nearly.

Kit insisted that word be included whenever anyone discussed the matter.

Dani began holding a Bible study every Wednesday, wherever the tour happened to take them. Each week, she opened the same tattered Greek Bible she had carried since she was seven.

Sometimes people showed up.

Sometimes they didn’t.

Dani opened the Bible either way.

Max and Stewart eventually got married.

It was a wonderful wedding—and, through a truly ridiculous stroke of good fortune, a million-dollar one.

After Sal abandoned Roxy’s enormous wedding in the Walmart parking lot, the Heartbreakers had packed away everything that could be saved. The flower-covered arch, the chairs, the tables, the crystal decorations, and nearly everything else were eventually repurposed for Max and Stewart’s wedding.

Roxy laughed and cried as she watched the wedding once intended to imprison her become a celebration of two people freely choosing each other.

Kit also created her own line of cowbells.

They became surprisingly successful.

Kit did not find this surprising at all.

The years passed, and Jenny and the Heartbreakers continued playing. One tour became another. Venues changed. Crowds grew. Songs came and went.

But the Heartbreakers remained.

Of all the memories they made together, one of Jenny’s favorites came only several weeks into that first tour.

Jenny found Heather sitting before the small mirror at the back of the bus.

The others had already gone to bed. Heather’s hair was still twisted into its two buns, but one of her drumsticks had become tangled hopelessly inside the left one.

Jenny smiled.

“Hold still before you accidentally scalp yourself.”

Heather lowered her hands and allowed Jenny to work the drumstick free.

“I missed the change during the third song,” Heather said.

“You found it again.”

“Kit noticed.”

“Kit can hear a quarter note fall over in another state.”

Heather laughed softly.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be as good as her.”

Jenny gently untangled the last strand of hair from the drumstick.

“You don’t have to be Kit. Kit’s already taken.”

Heather looked at Jenny through the mirror.

“You only have to be Heather.”

Heather became very still.

Those were the same words Jenny had given her when she had needed them most.

A small smile appeared on Heather’s face.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Jenny’s hands stopped.

Heather held her tightly.

For several moments, neither of them spoke.

Then Kit’s sleepy voice came from the front of the bus.

“Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Heather laughed through her tears.

“You’re the one who says drummers never sleep!”

“Precision drummers sleep on schedule!”

Jenny and Heather began laughing together.

Heather took Jenny’s hand as they stood.

“Come on, Mom.”

And together, they went to join the rest of the Heartbreakers.

The Story Doesn’t Have to End Here

Want to spend a little more time with Jenny and the Heartbreakers?

Visit the official Jenny and the Heartbreakers website, where you can see pictures of the band, hear songs performed by the Heartbreakers, explore posters and other extras from their world, and experience a special movie-style end-credit sequence where the music plays as photographs from their story scroll across the screen.

It’s a chance to see and hear the Heartbreakers.

Official website:

jenny-and-the-heartbreakers.gogosaint1.chatgpt.site