Chapter 24: Encore

The Gilt Room was sold out by seven, and by eight the line ran around the block.

Lucas stood in the wings with a clipboard and a headset, which he had bought himself, and checked the list for the third time.

"You're doing it again," Luke said at his shoulder.

"Doing what?"

"Counting."

"Nine hundred," Lucas said. "Nine hundred and four with the guest list."

Luke smiled, the rare slow one that went all the way to the scar.

Backstage, in a coffee can on the amp case, a folded paper with the collector's letterhead was burning down to a black curl.

Lucas had lit it himself at six, with Thomas holding the match and Noah reading the amount aloud, once, for the pleasure of it.

Forty-nine thousand, two hundred and fourteen dollars.

It had taken less than a minute.

"Doesn't feel like anything," Thomas had said, disappointed.

"It will on Monday," Lucas said. "When I check the balance."

Now the house lights dropped.

The crowd roared.

Thomas slid behind the drums with a grin and a spin of his stick, and Luke picked up his bass and walked on.

Noah stopped in front of Lucas at the edge of the stage.

He was in black, with his hair pushed back and his eyes lined, and he looked like every poster.

He didn't act like one.

"Come out and listen," he said.

"I always listen."

"Not from here. From the side where I can see you."

Lucas stepped to the edge of the wing, and Noah took his hand, and kissed his knuckles under the lights.

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