Have Mercy: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance by Shelley Ann Clark Page A

you know? And maybe it’s just because of the name, but I’ve always pictured blues music as, well, blue.” Tom rubbed his forehead, feeling both frustrated and immensely stupid. “Anyway. This old man … he’s broken. But there must still be something left of him, because he’s still playing his guitar. He reminds me a lot of J.R. Had a shitty life, didn’t have a way to say it, but found a way when he played. And made it … I don’t know. Something he could deal with, something he could share. When J.R. died, I wanted to remember him, and this seemed to fit, because that was something he gave me. A way to say the things too complicated for words.”
    The silence that followed that speech felt charged. Even the air grew thick and heavy, clouds pushing their way in front of the sun.
    He was afraid to look over at Emme, worried that she’d be rolling her eyes or maybe backing away from the babbling maniac. He stared hard at a spot across the road where the horizon met the sky and concentrated on the clouds skidding behind the scraggly trees. He cleared his throat. “My turn. How’d you start playing with Dave and Guillermo?”
    The tension between them eased a little when she replied. “I met Mo the day of my freshman orientation in college. He was sitting next to me in this huge auditorium during a presentation about … I don’t know, meal plans or something. He couldn’t stop drumming on his notebook. It was so distracting.” The corners of her mouth turned up a little. “He had bumper stickers for all these punk bands all over his notebook, and just to piss him off, I said something about punk being for amateurs who couldn’t play more than three chords. He followed me around for the rest of the day.”
    Tom had no problem imagining that. He’d probably have used any excuse to follow her around, too. “And you became friends?”
    Emme snorted. “We ended up living in the same dorm. I couldn’t get rid of him. He just kept showing up outside my room at mealtimes like a lost puppy. But eat dinner with someone enough, and you either decide you hate them or they turn into family. He turned into family. Eventually I got him listening to something other than Social Distortion, and now here we are.”
    “So what’s the story with Dave?”
    Emme sighed. “We met in Intro to Music Theory. I guess you could say we were kind of rivals. Both really full of ourselves. But one night we were at this party in the dorm lobby, and he was playing guitar—you know how college guys do, when they think it’ll make them look sensitive and get them laid, and it’s
obvious
that’s what they’re doing?”
    Tom hadn’t gone to college, but he’d seen enough students come through his bar to imagine it. “Yeah.”
    “So he was surrounded by this gaggle of drunk girls who were totally falling for it, but he was playing sloppy frat boy fare. I knew he could do better.
He
knew he could do better, but I think he thought there wasn’t anyone there worth really playing for. So I dared him to try to play ‘Telegraph Road,’ which he said he’d only do if I played the piano part. Our dorm had this fantastic grand piano in the lobby. And I sat down, and we played. We played all fourteen minutes of that damn song. By the time it was over, his fan club had gotten bored and wandered off, but we just kept playing because it was so
fun
.”
    “And you’ve played together happily ever after ever since?”
    Emme grimaced. “Not always happily. He’s stood by me since the whole … well, through a lot of messes, but he hasn’t always liked it. You’ve got a sister, right? Sometimes I wonder if Dave sees me as this sister who screws things up that he has to try to fix. He can’t let go, I think. Of people he loves, and of control. It’s rough for him to let me be in charge.”
    Tom nodded. “Sounds like you challenge him. That’s hard for some guys to take.”
    “I miss it, you know? The part that just felt