And with every button he undid, it was like something rewiring itself in his head. Like a puppy changing into a wolf. When the instrumental break was over and he started singing the next verse... God, my hands were shaking so bad I could hardly play. The room fell absolutely still — not a whisper, not a glass tinkling. The bouncer outside the front door came running in, pulling on his brass knuckles like he expected real trouble; but he stopped in the entranceway, just froze there, with the brass knucks dangling on his fingertips, and he listened to the rest of the song. And the next song. And the next. Until we’d run through our whole repertoire. We left the stage, we went to the dressing room, and I buttoned up Alex’s shirt without looking into his eyes. Then we both had terror-fits for a few hours.”

Silence. Nothing but the swish of our three brushes sweeping old grit and dirt.

“I take it the woman in the audience was Helena Howe?” Jerith asked at last.

“You got it,” Roland nodded, setting down his brush. “Our very own manager, director, and ballbreaker. And yes, Alex did get lucky that night. Or unlucky, depending on your point of view. He says they’re in love.” Roland wiped his dusty hands fiercely on a rag he picked up from the workbench. “I’ve never found out whether Helena makes him unbutton his shirt in bed. Interesting question, don’t you think? Alex is easier to control, but the Singer would be more... volcanic.”

He threw the rag down on the workbench and strode out into the gathering twilight. He didn’t look back at either of us as he let the door click shut behind him.

Jerith let his breath out slowly. “I think I need a walk,” he said. “How about you?”

My first reflex was to say no — too much potential for complications. Jerith had lived alone so long, he was ripe to get soppy about the first woman to happen by. Me, I have a policy against getting soppy. Walking with Jerith, giving him hope, would only be cruel. On the other hand, I still felt bad for making him self-conscious about his beard, and he was so desperate for company... what harm could there be in a friendly stroll, if I didn’t lead him on?