“Oh, you bet. Hey, can I get a shot of the two of you together?”
Chase noticed Sky seemed to miss a beat, but she was quickly back with the plan.
“Of course!” Chase said quickly.
“Of course,” she echoed.
They’d been sitting in chairs at a square table. Chase stood and walked around behind Sky, ducking down with an arm around her and his head by hers.
Broussard said, “Well, should have had my photographer here, but this was truly happenstance, so... Well, they say phones take incredible pictures these days.”
“Any device can only take what it sees,” Sky murmured.
“It sees pure beauty!” Broussard said, snapping his pic. “And handsomeness, of course,” he told Chase.
Chase laughed aloud at that one. “Hey, how about ‘the group at play at home’—This is where Skyhawk began years ago in a little garage,” he reminded Broussard.
“Yeah, cool!” Broussard said.
The others—including roadies Nathan, Justin and Charlie—were at one of the long plank tables. Chase motioned to them and they scrambled, half the table heading to stand behind the other half, allowing room at one end for Chase and Sky.
The picture was taken.
When several backup shots had been made, Broussard thanked them all, as they did him and he was gone and the bartender-owner, Danny Murphy, came over to express his appreciation.
“The real deal. You guys are the real deal!” he told them. “And Sky...wow. Thanks. I mean, thanks. What that will do for this place... Major league!”
“Yeah, but keep it real, okay, huh?” Joe Garcia begged. “That’s why we love to come here, it’s just...real. Not a gig, just a beer!”
“Oh, always,” Murphy promised.
“Anyway, we’re going to get home—” Chase began.
“No! Hey, we’re all just finally together!” Brandon protested. He went silent, though, suddenly. There was a TV screen behind the bar. A twenty-four hour news show was on and the headlines were running.
“Oh, my God!” Joe said.
“Another one,” Mark added, shaking his head. “Man, am I glad I’m not young anymore.”
“You’d think, too, that kids would cool it right now! I mean that poor kid, from what I’m seeing, he was just going to have few tokes!” Chris Wiley said. He looked at Brandon. “Don’t even think about buying any weed right now!”
“I’m here, with you, drinking a near beer, Pops!” Brandon protested. “Not to worry. What the hell kind of a dealer does that?” he added. “Kills their customers?”
“Some ass who doesn’t know that overcutting stuff to make bigger bucks doesn’t do the trick. Man, that’s right...poor kid,” Mark said. “We haven’t had trouble like this in a while now. What a...well, what a mess and a tragedy.”
“Absolute tragedy,” Charlie agreed, standing. He shook his head. “What is the matter with people? I’m almost glad Jake isn’t here. He’d be so upset over...”
His voice trailed, and he looked at Sky. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. My dad would be furious, you’re right,” Sky said. She looked around at them all. “Everyone should be furious. This is random murder for profit. But the cops get on to people eventually. And I hope whoever did this is charged with murder.”
“They’ll get them. They always do,” Joe said, nodding his head sagely.
“But they don’t, do they?” Brandon asked, looking at Chase. “Hey, you’re the guy who has taken all the classes. They don’t get them all the time, do they? I mean, look at the serial killers who were out there for years and years—and those who were never caught.”
“Most of the time, from the lectures I’ve heard, criminals eventually make mistakes,” Chase said. “Any of us who might want to take a puff now and then...wouldn’t be doing it right now! Hey, one more round of bottled beers. We’ll play everything safe!”
He headed to the bar, keeping his eye on the table. They all seemed perplexed, horrified by what they had seen on the news.
And yet one of them...
He snatched a tray off the bar to carry the beers back, placing them in front of everyone.
“Hey, cool,” Chris Wiley said, smiling at Chase. “When all else fails, you can be a bartender!”
“Aw, he’s aiming higher than that!” Mark said. “What are you going to do with all these classes? You know, I just never saw you working in a basement lab, kid!”
Chase shrugged. “Thanks to you guys, I get to be whatever I want.” He laughed. “Never worked in a basement. Most labs would be underwater soon in this area!”
They all laughed. Mark, Joe and Chris, the remaining original members of Skyhawk, all seemed to be at ease. Older men, those who might have retired in another life, but all still strong and vibrant. Chase was grateful his grandfather, Hank, would soon regain his strength, and he would still be part of what he had loved all his life again. And still...
Brandon? Wild child? Sometimes what was in plain sight was the simple answer.
But for some reason, Chase just didn’t think it could be that easy. Gut reaction. A man’s gut could be wrong.
But it could also be right.
Then...the roadies. Charlie, like Brandon, the wild child in the group. Justin, a man who by all appearances loved his wife of years and years and his sons, both in college, one headed for a career in medicine, the other in banking.
