They stood in a huddle in the tiny dressing room, arms around each other's backs.

“Remember…tight and fast on the crossovers,” Luke said, as he always did. In this last moment of jittery anticipation, he could never stop his brain from hashing over tiny details of the upcoming set. “I'll count Leo in after the bridge.”

The others nodded, waiting impatiently for release.

“Alright, that's it – let's go!”

They threw up their hands in a collective high-five and headed for the stage, slapping shoulders and grabbing equipment. José gave them twenty seconds to get into place before he turned up the spotlights, then Luke shouted “1, 2, 3--” and they were off.

It generally took Luke ten minutes or so of focused vocals at the mic stand to get over his initial nerves and start to find the rhythm of each individual show. Every night was different, even if every song and set list were the same. The crowd, the location, even the band had a different feel each time, and Luke spent the first few songs sussing out the vibe and getting himself into sync with it. Once he did that, he could loosen up, take the lead or go with the flow, and enjoy everything going on around him.

This was it, he was sure of it now. This was the band that would carry him into the future. He'd tried so many different combinations – groups, arrangements, players – over the years, and now, finally, he'd found what he was looking for. Leo had the rhythm and the timing down cold, and the strength to keep it up all night without flagging. Pete’s rock solid bottom beat belied his sometimes chaotic off-stage energy. Of course Luke missed Eddie; his own guitar playing had improved but he was sticking to his simplest guitar lines. Which was okay, because Gordie and Emmett added all the interest he needed. Gordie could run the most technical, intricate piano lines at superhuman speed even on the tiny portable keyboard they had to use on this tour.

And then there was Emmett. Luke watched as he stepped forward for his horn solo, cool and confident in his monochromatic suit and hat. The neatly trimmed hair and glasses gave him an almost scholarly appearance until he put his trumpet to his lips and filled the room with a sound like Luke had never heard before – clear, controlled, powerful, but still soulful and intimate. And somehow Emmett made it all look effortless, like this was his most natural state, like he could do it all while dancing a two-step across the stage, which he often did. No wonder the crowd loved him.

There was definitely something about Emmett. Some days Luke still couldn't believe what he'd found, what he'd gained when he asked this man to join him. There was Emmett's deep musical knowledge and technical competence, his ability to give Luke anything he wanted; so many new things that were possible with his skills and instruments, and so much more Luke wanted to explore with him. Emmett always deferred to him in the creative process – but if Luke wrote the trumpet or harp solos, Emmett delivered them.

The spotlight moved back to Luke as Emmett's lead ended, the crowd cheering and shouting his name. Luke grabbed his mic and skipped over to plant himself at Emmett's side for the next verse, giving him a congratulatory hip check. They exchanged grins and stood shoulder to shoulder as Luke closed his eyes and wailed out his vocals. Already he could hardly imagine performing without the shelter and security of Emmett at his side.

Despite that imposing size and strength, Luke never felt safer than when he was with Emmett. It wasn't just the idea of being protected, though he knew he was. Emmett mostly kept his temper under control, but even after witnessing incidents like the one with Art, Luke had no fear of him, only faith and conviction and a deep sense of comfort in his presence.

The light moved to Gordie for his keyboard break, and Luke ran back to throw some water on his face, then turned to watch him. Gordie was a sweet boy, highly trained and much more technically skilled than the rest of the band, but he didn't draw the crowd's attention the way Emmett did; he didn't have that magnetism.

Luke had always been painfully conscious of his own callowness, his blue-collar, son-of-a-steelworker roots. He'd made that his trademark, in a way. But that left him no less awed by Emmett's experience and authority; he recognized the kind of urban sophistication, the cool factor, that Emmett brought to the band. Who could blame him if he was a bit infatuated?

Gordie's keyboard break ended, and Luke stepped forward to start the song's outro, a guitar and horn duet. From the corner of his eye he saw Emmett strut over to Pete who laughed and synced up his bass movements with Emmett's trumpet, so that the two of them played while swinging their instruments comically together. That was another thing about Emmett: no matter how earnest or hip he first appeared, he was never too cool to be goofy, mischievous, up for a good time, comradely with everyone.

In the early days, Luke had sometimes mistaken Emmett's default gravitas for sternness, perhaps even judgment. But his joy and playfulness onstage quickly dispelled that idea. No, Emmett looked serious because he was serious. Because he took his work seriously. Because it was work.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? For Emmett, the band was a job. Of course, on some level the band was a job for all of them. Leo and Pete obviously hoped to make a living with this band, or someone's band, even if they might have secret backup plans in case that didn't work out. Gordie didn't need an alternative; he'd prepared his whole life for a career in music and would surely find one. For Luke and for Eddie, music was a calling, their only calling; neither of them had a Plan B in life. But for Emmett, music was his Plan B. He had a full life planned out – by his mother perhaps, or maybe his wife – with a day job and family and future that didn't necessarily involve music, a band, or Luke.

From the start of the tour, Luke had known he was waiting for Emmett to make a choice. For Luke, the band was a sacred thing, a brotherhood. He could only work with people he believed in, and who he knew believed in him. Mutual loyalty was required, yes, but not just loyalty, something more than that, something like faith. He had it, the rest of the guys had it – the question mark was Emmett.

When they first set out, Luke had been unconsciously afraid that some small act, some failing on his part, would convince Emmett he could do better and result in disaster. But the more they worked and played together, and the better Luke came to know Emmett, the more he understood that whatever happened was not up to him. He could only try to be the best possible version of himself, and trust in Emmett to make the right decision.

The set was ending. Luke brought the full band together for the final outro, layering the instruments into a single wall of sound that built to a tight, frenzied, epic of a closer. He caught Emmett's eye and on the final note they leapt together into the air and landed side by side as the stage went black. In the darkness Luke reached out and found his hand caught in Emmett's reassuring grip. As the houselights went up and the band aligned themselves at the front of the stage, Luke threw up his hand, raising Emmett's arm into the air with his, and was almost sure of him.

***

“So where'd you meet Clarissa?”

Emmett glanced out the window and paused before turning back. “Church,” he admitted finally and then nodded sheepishly at Luke's amused chuckle.

“Your mama set you up?”

“Well, she approved of her. Clarissa's a fine girl, Luke, she's a good mama to the boys and she's got a good head on her shoulders.”

Their voices had lowered naturally. The engine made a quiet drone as the bus rolled along the empty highway. Faint black shadows flashed through the windows, and the rest of the band were vague silent shapes in the darkness around them.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You think she'll stick with you through all this?”

Emmett tipped his head in acknowledgment of the quandary. “We'll see I guess.”

As though to switch to a brighter topic, Luke asked, “How's the boys? You get regular updates?”

“Sure. They're doing great. Reading, talking, Robbie's doing well at school. I guess they don't really need their old man.”

“They miss you, I bet. And you must miss them.”

“A lot. What about you? You miss your family?”

“I miss my sister. And Eddie. Don't miss my folks much.”

“Seems like…” Emmett hesitated slightly. “…There's no love lost there.”

Luke shrugged. “Not exactly. I mean I love my momma. My dad…we just don't relate. He don't get me, I don't get him. We never had much to talk about.”

Emmett nodded and waited, wondering if Luke would add anything else. He felt a slight movement at his side, and knew what it meant. Turning to lean against the window, he made room for Luke to settle in, back against his chest.

“I mean I was basically a wild child,” Luke resumed after a moment. “I didn't like to follow rules, I didn't wanna see my dad when he was still there so…I just didn't go home. Eddie and me, we pretty much lived on the streets after we were about fourteen.”

“On the streets of Hatboro? Or…?”

“No, I mean in Philly. We'd sleep by the river or out near the skatepark, or we'd crash with other bands, or girls if we could. It was like…me and Eddie against the world.”

“So you've basically been on your own for…what, ten years now?”

“Yeah. Ten years tryin' to make it in this business. Tryin' to find the right set up, and someone that believed in me.”

“I believe in you, Luke.”

For a moment Luke didn't answer. Then he patted Emmett's broad thigh, tilted his head back and shut his eyes. “Man, Em, I believe in you too.”

***

It was another stultifying night, somewhere in Virginia, sometime after midnight. Luke half dozed in a chair, leaning against the outside wall of his motel room, unable to face the suffocating heat inside. He always found it so much easier to sleep on the bus, resting against Emmett's broad chest and safe beneath his arm, than in these tiny, overheated rooms. He really had to make it big enough to start staying in proper air-conditioned hotels.

He heard footsteps nearby but didn't open his eyes till a foot gently nudged his leg.

“Hey Luke, you can't sleep?”

“Oh, hey Em ... you too?”

Emmett loomed in front of him wearing only shorts, feet bare, skin blending in with the darkness around them.

“I've been walking around, looking to see what they have here,” Emmett said quietly. “Check it out, man – there's a pool around the back.”

“A pool?” Luke perked up. “You kidding me? Where?”

“C'mere.”

Emmett led the way around the side of the motel to the back, where a chain-link fence surrounded an in-ground swimming pool filled with shimmering water that looked cool and inviting in the overwhelming heat. They walked along a concrete path that led toward the gate. As they drew closer, Luke could see the gate was padlocked. He stopped and leaned against the top of the fence, looking at the water wistfully.

“Sure looks nice in there,” he said.

Emmett was walking along the outside of the fence. “Gate's locked of course, but there's a place just over here…where the fence is bent…I can easily get over.” He stopped at the spot he'd scouted out and turned to wait for Luke.

For a moment Luke couldn't figure out why he was so surprised. Then he realized: he'd never thought of Emmett as a rule-breaker. Just the opposite, actually.

“Uh –” Luke glanced around, then gestured at a sign attached to the gate. “Says here the pool's only open till 10 p.m.”

“Uh-huh.” Emmett didn't seem to be listening. He vaulted over the fence like it was a kid's skipping rope, then gestured to Luke. “C'mon, I'll lift you over.”

“Emmett the Mountain Evans,” Luke said, grinning. “Are you breaking these here motel rules?”

Emmett looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about? The pool's fine, just come over here and I'll get you in.”

“I never had you down for being such a delinquent.” Luke walked over, still trying to process this new side of Emmett's character. “Now me, I've always been a bad kid, you tell me to stop and I'll start. But you…” He stopped abruptly as Emmett, who had completely ignored his prattling, reached over, grabbed him by the waist and swung him across the fence.

Luke landed on the concrete deck, no longer smiling. Something about Emmett had suddenly unnerved him. It was like Emmett didn't realize he was breaking a rule – or, more accurately perhaps, like he didn't recognize that rules existed. Luke, naturally, was all for lawbreaking – his whole life he'd been a rebel, a contrarian. It was part of his identity; he'd always known he was a bad kid. But Emmett wasn't being rebellious or reckless or defiant; he simply didn't seem to notice that anything stopped him from doing what he wanted to.

For the first time since they’d met, Luke’s implicit faith in Emmett was shaken. He'd never delved too deeply into Emmett's moral code, had always just assumed he had one. Of course, Emmett had been brought up religious, with the values his mother had taught him, but he’d never really suggested he believed in those things himself, only that he followed the path of least resistance. Now, for the first time, it occurred to Luke to wonder what Emmett actually did believe in. If anything.

“What are you waiting for?” Emmett was already stripping down, peeling off shorts that were sticky with sweat and tossing them aside. “Let's get in!”

Luke stood for a second, unable to move. Obviously they'd seen each other undress many times, backstage or in greenrooms, but the sudden sight of Emmett planted on the concrete deck in just his briefs – barefooted, his deep brown skin glowing from the heat, muscles creating dark contours in the moonlight – shook him once again.

It took him a moment to gather himself and start removing his own clothes. Meanwhile, Emmett ran to the edge of the pool and leaped straight over in a momentous cannonball that launched jets of water across the deck and onto Luke.

Luke laughed at the deliciously cold shock, pulled off the last leg of his jeans, and jumped in behind Emmett. For a few minutes everything was forgotten in the sweet relief of cool water, and they splashed around the pool together like frolicking porpoises.

Eventually Emmett, always looking for a workout, began doing laps along the length of the pool, and Luke tried to stay out of the way, floating on his back under the stars and pondering. Then they both stood for a while in the chest-deep water and chatted quietly.

“Hey Em,” Luke asked after a minute. “I was wondering. You say you're a Baptist. Do you, like, believe in all that stuff?”

“What stuff? You mean religion?” Emmett shrugged, smiling. “I mean, I guess it doesn't hurt.”

That didn't tell him much. Luke pressed a little further. “What about all the, like, scary parts – the hellfire and brimstone and – and damnation if you don't live the right way?”

Emmett grew serious. “I don't take everything literally. Maybe my parents do, but I don't.” He looked at Luke with a kind of compassion. “You can't take all that too seriously, it'll just mess you up.”

“But…we gotta have some rules, ain't we? Even if we break them sometimes. Otherwise…”

“You have to have your own rules. All those other ones, the ones other people set, those are just to keep us down.”

“So you just…ignore them?”

“They're real, they can hurt you. If the motel manager comes out here right now, he's really gonna kick us out of the pool. But if he's not here, what do we care?”

As always, Emmett answered him easily, with a simple candor. But Luke was starting to think that despite appearances, there were depths to Emmett that he might never be able to see.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Emmett said, smiling again.

“That's how I get my best stories.”

“You gonna write a song about me?”

“Maybe.” Luke pushed back abruptly and dove into the water to do a handspring from the bottom of the pool. “Stand still,” he said, coming up for air. “I'm gonna swim between your legs.”

It was a game he used to play with his sister when they were little; he'd already taught it to Emmett. He dove in again, deep enough to graze the concrete floor, and saw Emmett's spread legs under the water, refracted moonlight making them seem even bulkier from here. Luke propelled himself forward, then pulled his arms in to his sides so he could pass through smoothly. Even so, his shoulders and then his legs brushed the columns of the arch formed by Emmett's legs, and on the other side he paused at the bottom of the pool, still feeling the light touch through his wet skin.

When he broke out of the water a moment later, sputtering for air, Emmett laughed and caught him, scooping him up into the safety of his arms. Luke looked into his face, at his wide smile and bright teeth, the moon and stars shining over his head, and wondered if Emmett felt like he did when he walked through a disco and felt the gazes of all the men there.

“Hey, guys – ”

A voice from outside the fence made Luke jump down into the water. He turned around, expecting to see the motel manager and already bracing himself for Jerry's irritation when they were kicked out. But the stranger was a fellow guest, apologetic, not authoritative.

“I'm in this room right here and it's kinda hard to sleep with all the noise, it really carries at night. I know it's hot but you think you could – ”

Luke half considered refusing him, not wanting to give up their little sanctuary of cool relief. But Emmett was already on the pool deck, gathering up his clothes. “Hey, I'm sorry man, we didn't mean to disturb you,” he said kindly. “We'll get going, no problem.” He put out his hand to help Luke climb out of the pool.

“Hard enough to sleep in this heat, ain't it?” Luke said, grabbing his jeans and shirt.

The stranger waved at them and headed back to his room.

Emmett lifted Luke over the fence, then jumped over himself and they walked back toward the front of the motel, laughing at their adventures. For a moment Luke wasn't sure why he felt so relieved; then it occurred to him that maybe he was starting to understand a bit of Emmett's code after all.