grudgingly.
“Angie DeLaura,” she said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Honestly, my father and I were not close. He didn’t approve of my life, and I thought his was . . . well, I guess I didn’t approve of his, either. It made for some tense family holidays until we finally scrapped the whole thing after my mother died. I moved to Los Angeles three years ago, and we haven’t spoken since.”
“I’m sorry,” Angie said.
Mel glanced at her and realized that her sympathy was heartfelt. Angie was all about family. Her brothers drove her crazy, but she’d take a bullet for any one of them and vice versa. Angie always felt badly for people who didn’t have that unconditional love in their families.
“Me, too,” Mel said. A thought wriggled in the corner of her mind, however, and she had to ask. “How is it you’re here now if you live in Los Angeles?”
“Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?” Brian said. He tossed his long black hair back over his shoulder with a humorless laugh. “The police really loved that one. But the fact is, I’m on tour, and I’m just passing through. I was in rehearsal for our gig at the time of his death.”
Angie sat bolt upright. “Oh! Now I recognize you. You’re Roach! You’re the drummer in the band the Sewers. I love you guys.
“Na na na. Na na na. Step on this! Yeah, step on this! Like this? Yeah!” Angie sang with a mean air guitar riff. Unfortunately, Angie was not known for her singing.
Brian gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence filled the booth. Now that Angie and Mel knew they were sitting with a celebrity, it felt different. Roach took a long sip from his glass while Mel and Angie stared at him, trying to process the information that they were sitting with someone who had three platinum albums and was on a world tour.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back to the hotel. Our manager wants me to do a press conference about my dad’s murder, something about damage control.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” they said. As one, they rose and followed him to the door.
Roach grabbed the door handle and said, “Thanks for the iced tea.”
“Any time, we’re open from ten to eight every day but Sunday, which is one to five, but you can probably read that on the door.” Mel stammered to a halt, and Angie gave her a look that told her quite plainly she sounded like an idiot. She clamped her lips shut.
“Hey,” Roach said, looking at Angie, “if I leave a ticket for tomorrow night’s show at the box office, will you come?”
“Can I have three?” Angie asked with a grin.
“Will you have dinner with me after?” he asked.
She studied him for a second. “Yes.”
“Then you can have as many as you want,” he said.
“Three will do,” she said.
“See you tomorrow night,” he said.
The door shut behind him, and Mel goggled at Angie.
“Did you really just accept a date with a rock star?” she asked.
“Yes, I think I did.”
“What about Tate?” Mel asked.
Angie walked back to the counter where she’d left her tray of Death by Chocolates. She started putting them into the display case.
“What about him?” she asked as Mel followed her and began to help.
“I thought you were in love with him,” she said.
“I am, but he’s not in love with me, and he probably never will be,” Angie said. “I need to move on.”
“With a guy named Roach?”
“That’s his nickname,” Angie said. “Besides, he’s hot. You have to admit, he’s hot.”
“So? Don’t you find it the least bit odd that he just happens to be on tour in town when his father is murdered? He even admitted that they had a strained relationship. Angie, he could be a murderer!” Mel said. “You can’t date him. I forbid it.”
Seven
Angie’s face took on a ferocity that in twenty-plus years of friendship Mel had never had turned upon her. It was wet-your-pants scary, and she wished more than anything that she could
“Angie DeLaura,” she said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Honestly, my father and I were not close. He didn’t approve of my life, and I thought his was . . . well, I guess I didn’t approve of his, either. It made for some tense family holidays until we finally scrapped the whole thing after my mother died. I moved to Los Angeles three years ago, and we haven’t spoken since.”
“I’m sorry,” Angie said.
Mel glanced at her and realized that her sympathy was heartfelt. Angie was all about family. Her brothers drove her crazy, but she’d take a bullet for any one of them and vice versa. Angie always felt badly for people who didn’t have that unconditional love in their families.
“Me, too,” Mel said. A thought wriggled in the corner of her mind, however, and she had to ask. “How is it you’re here now if you live in Los Angeles?”
“Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?” Brian said. He tossed his long black hair back over his shoulder with a humorless laugh. “The police really loved that one. But the fact is, I’m on tour, and I’m just passing through. I was in rehearsal for our gig at the time of his death.”
Angie sat bolt upright. “Oh! Now I recognize you. You’re Roach! You’re the drummer in the band the Sewers. I love you guys.
“Na na na. Na na na. Step on this! Yeah, step on this! Like this? Yeah!” Angie sang with a mean air guitar riff. Unfortunately, Angie was not known for her singing.
Brian gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence filled the booth. Now that Angie and Mel knew they were sitting with a celebrity, it felt different. Roach took a long sip from his glass while Mel and Angie stared at him, trying to process the information that they were sitting with someone who had three platinum albums and was on a world tour.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back to the hotel. Our manager wants me to do a press conference about my dad’s murder, something about damage control.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” they said. As one, they rose and followed him to the door.
Roach grabbed the door handle and said, “Thanks for the iced tea.”
“Any time, we’re open from ten to eight every day but Sunday, which is one to five, but you can probably read that on the door.” Mel stammered to a halt, and Angie gave her a look that told her quite plainly she sounded like an idiot. She clamped her lips shut.
“Hey,” Roach said, looking at Angie, “if I leave a ticket for tomorrow night’s show at the box office, will you come?”
“Can I have three?” Angie asked with a grin.
“Will you have dinner with me after?” he asked.
She studied him for a second. “Yes.”
“Then you can have as many as you want,” he said.
“Three will do,” she said.
“See you tomorrow night,” he said.
The door shut behind him, and Mel goggled at Angie.
“Did you really just accept a date with a rock star?” she asked.
“Yes, I think I did.”
“What about Tate?” Mel asked.
Angie walked back to the counter where she’d left her tray of Death by Chocolates. She started putting them into the display case.
“What about him?” she asked as Mel followed her and began to help.
“I thought you were in love with him,” she said.
“I am, but he’s not in love with me, and he probably never will be,” Angie said. “I need to move on.”
“With a guy named Roach?”
“That’s his nickname,” Angie said. “Besides, he’s hot. You have to admit, he’s hot.”
“So? Don’t you find it the least bit odd that he just happens to be on tour in town when his father is murdered? He even admitted that they had a strained relationship. Angie, he could be a murderer!” Mel said. “You can’t date him. I forbid it.”
Seven
Angie’s face took on a ferocity that in twenty-plus years of friendship Mel had never had turned upon her. It was wet-your-pants scary, and she wished more than anything that she could
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