Two Punks In Love

Plans Change

Trace, two weeks later

"Hey, toss one up," I say to Adam from the roof of Kat's She-Shed, where I just finished nailing down the last shingle. I catch the beer he hurls, crack it open, and guzzle moderately as I bask in the sun and the glory of a job well done.

Prez stands beside Adam, surveying the roof from the ground, where he's finishing up the siding. "Looks good. Now that everything is dried in, what do you figure? Finished in a week?

"Yep. It's such a small space, hanging the drywall won't take more than a day. Two days to mud and sand it, a day to paint, a day to lay the floor, a day to trim everything out and day to paint the trim...so that's what...exactly seven days? Then we get to move all Kat's stuff in." I shimmy down the roof, and land with a thud on my feet, not spilling a drop of beer.

I feel Kat's eyes on me from the barn loft. I can always feel her now, when she's watching me.

It's an amazing thing, finding a next level with the woman you love.

I thought before, that we were in love. And we were. For many years, I have loved Kat with an attraction and a devotion I never felt for anyone, and she loved me with a ferocity that only a HellKat could bring. But we were stuck for a long long time. Stuck waging a love in the middle of a rockstar life, slogging through a history we hadn't fully explored.

Since we've been in The Clink, we've cast aside our shields and lain down our weapons and the past's burdens. We've found simple joy and intimacy in the days—and nights. There is no more hiding behind fears, anxieties, or resentments. There's no more posturing.

Our love is no longer a stage, where we play out our roles. Our love is a home. Our love is a life.

I'm still staring into the sun, trying to see Kat through the barn loft door, where she and Mac have been holed up all day.

"What are they doin' up there?" I ask Adam. It's not like I can't hear what they are doing, but I just want him to confirm that the music I'm hearing is for what I think it is.

"Writing your wedding gift," he replies automatically with a grin.

Preston tags him in the shoulder. "That was supposed to be a secret, Leed."

Adam looks at Preston with fake coldness, then at me. He cracks a beer for himself. "Who told this fucker he could touch the rock stars?"

Prez shoves Adam again, and Adam throws down his beer and the two of them scuffle and laugh. Despite Prez's prison smarts, Adam—high school wrestler—has Prez in the dirt and in a headlock in under ninety seconds.

"Get the fuck off me, Preacher!" Prez tries to sound pissed through his laughter.

I chuckle. Yeah, Bodie knew what he was doing when he sent me this guy. I liked him fine as my weed dealer, but I got a whole new level of love for reformed Prez.  He's gonna work out awesome as SCIC. Imma take him with to LA, when we go back. Just like Andy is our permanent front-of-house employee, Prez will be our full-time sound engineer. Fuck the LA studios; we'll produce our albums straight out the house, with Prez on the board, and Adam and I on oversight, until Prez learns everything he needs to know to produce our unique sound.

Adam lets Prez up, and tosses him another beer from the cooler. "Kat wants it to be a secret, but it can't be a secret. Cause if Trace doesn't know that Kat is planning to perform their wedding song, then he'll write a wedding song, and there can only be one wedding song, see?"

"Yeah, but..." Prez sips and gives me a quizzical look. "You're the rock star. Don't you want to be the guy with the song to sing to his bride?"

"It's all good," I assure Preston. "I wrote her an engagement song. Turn about is fair play. Besides, it's her day. If she wants to write me a song...I can't think of a better gift."