Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story Read Free Page B

“Not to mention that I’ve met Simon’s mom, and I know for a fact she has a major problem with the whole love child thing. She knows exactly who the fathers are of all her children.”
    “And I’m her best hope. The rest of her family are out driving trolleys or doing construction if they’re not drinking themselves shit-faced, while I’m off on scholarship to boarding school and university. No, I am firmly entrenched in the warm bosom of me mum, though she’s not talking to me at the present. Hates the band as much as Christian’s lot does. Thank God for Claudia. Now there’s a peach of a woman, putting up with all our shit. I’d bloody marry the woman if she’d have me, but then I’d be related to this twat and I’d be forced to shoot myself.”
    “Claudia?” Neil repeated, his glass halfway to his lips.
    “Andrew’s mum. Thank God for her. She’s our benefactor. Meal ticket. When we find ourselves in times of trouble, you get the picture.”
    “She lives nearby?” Neil asked, more insistent now.
    Full of the swell of goodwill rising up inside of him, not to mention the continued flow of stout, Andrew formulated the idea on the spot. “Listen, we’re heading over there next. She’s having a small get together for us before we push off again, and it’s loads more comfortable. Would you care to join us?”
    Neil appeared aghast; in Andrew’s dimming focus, it took him a minute to realize that it was already nearing midnight, and the thought of crashing some unknown lady’s flat, no matter how posh, certainly wouldn’t be his cup of tea. But instead of politely backing out, Neil’s eyes focused directly on Andrew’s.
    “When are you going out on the road? Where?”
    Andrew tried to look away but couldn’t; Neil’s gaze was too severe. “Well…we’ve got three shows set up in Glasgow first, and from there we’ll head over to Edinburgh, then south to—”
    “Andrew likes to keep moving. Thinks he’ll find her if he visits every city on the globe,” said Simon dryly.
    “Who?” Neil asked.
    “His muse.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Shut it, Simon,” Andrew warned. The silence stretched thin between the two men. Simon downed the rest of his pint.
    A string of idle small talk unraveled itself about the table before Neil hesitated and eyed his watch. “I must apologize, but I have another engagement, and I’m late, in fact.”
    All three men got up when Neil stood. The abruptness of his departure made Andrew want to pound the wall. Why the hell couldn’t Simon keep his mouth shut? Why bring it up now when Neil would think he was certifiable? Fuck! But then Neil said the miraculous, causing all three musicians to stare at him in shock.
    “You know, I’m remodeling a house in San Francisco and converting it into flats. It’s a nasty business, headache and all. Can’t really rent it in its current shape, but if you ever need a place to crash, I mean, if you find yourself in the city, it’s yours. I could line up some gigs for you as well, keep you busy for some time.”
    “That’s an incredibly generous offer.”
    As if sensing the incredulity in Simon’s voice, Neil went on. “No really, you haven’t seen the house. It’s falling down around one’s ears at the present. Rather difficult to retain a crew, you see. It’s haunted. Charming, really.” He added this last part as more of an excuse than explanation.
    “Haunted?” Andrew blinked at Neil, wondering if he had heard him correctly. “As in a ghost?”
    “No.”
    “Thank God, for a minute there I thought you said—”
    “As in ghosts. Plural. Lovers, I suppose. They can’t seem to locate one another other as they’ve never been seen in the same room at the same time. I gather it frustrates them, from the wailings going on. My wife even named them—Nick and Nora,” he concluded as though he had no desire to discuss it further.
    And with that, all of Andrew’s hopes and dreams of the last few minutes came crashing