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  “Katie,” the man outside her door nodded and smiled. “Good to see you.”

  Katie unlocked the screen door. Johnny wrapped his arms around her in a hug, lifting her off the ground. She giggled. “Come in.” Johnny of today still looked like Johnny in fifth grade, but with some noticeable differences. His lanky body sometimes reminded Katie of a young Tommy Lee, when Mötley Crüe was still touring for their second and third albums in the 80s. Johnny had sinewy but not bulky arms. His right arm was hidden under a tattoo sleeve of various colors and design, and the left arm was well on its way to being fully covered. His hair was still shaggy and short-ish, his face clean shaven, but now his ears were pierced multiple times on both sides. And he was tall, well over six feet, dwarfing tiny Katie who couldn’t even make it to halfway between five and six. To this day, he had the sly, lopsided grin that Katie had always found endearing; he still had the smallest hairline gap between his front two teeth that would have looked goofy on anyone else but somehow Johnny pulled it off. He wore a black Static-X tee and faded blue jeans with a black leather belt that matched his biker boots.

  He walked through the front door into the living room. “I’m glad I found the right place. I stopped by your mom’s house and she gave me this address.” He looked around the room, his blue eyes not seeming to miss any detail. “You live alone here, or...?”

  Katie nodded. “Yes.” She grinned. “Well, not entirely. I do have Sam over there.” She hunched over and stuck out her finger. Sam let out a little “mew” and sauntered over, rubbing his cheek on her finger. She picked him up and held him in her arms.

  Johnny grinned. “Cool. You still have him. Hey, Sam.” He patted the cat on the head. “So why such a big house for little ol’ you?”

  Katie laughed. “Why not?”

  “But you don’t have a dog or anything, right? It’s awfully domestic of you.”

  “Yeah, no dog. But I’ve started gardening. And this house is mine—I’m not renting. I got tired of paying all that money every month for nothing.” She felt silly explaining herself. “I’m in my thirties, you know...time to grow up.”

  Johnny looked up at the ceiling as though pondering what she’d said. “There is that, I guess.”

  Katie set the cat back on the carpet. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Sure. Whatcha got?”

  She started walking to the kitchen, and Johnny followed close behind. “So what brings you back to Winchester anyway?” She tried not to think of the last time he visited. She knew already, though, that whatever brought him back to town this time wasn’t as bad as last time. She could tell that just by looking at him.

  Katie opened the door to the refrigerator while Johnny spoke. “Mmmm...just needed to come back home for a while.”

  “Well, I have water, some tea, soymilk, and—” she pushed aside a carton and two jars “it looks like one beer—a Bud Light.”

  “If you’re offering, I’ll take it.” Katie nodded and pulled it out. She handed it to Johnny and indicated that he could sit at the breakfast bar that looked over the living room. She sat on the stool next to him as he twisted off the cap.

  He took a sip of the beer. “It’s more than just needing to be home, though. The band and I decided it was time to part ways. So I did a lot of other things for a while, but music’s in my blood, Katie. I decided to come home to kind of clear my mind, and then I’m going to start back up again.”

  “You’re going to form a new band?” Johnny had been a member of no fewer than three bands of varying degrees of success since graduating from high school. Katie had hoped for Johnny’s sake that his career choice would pay off, but it had seemed to cause more pain and problems for him than it brought joy. Still, Katie didn’t feel it was her place to tell her old friend how to run his life. At least he was doing better now than a few short years ago.

  “Yeah. I have to. I’m not cut out for regular work, Katie. I tried it.” She folded her hands in front of her and stared at her knuckles. Even if Johnny was “cut out” for regular work, he certainly didn’t look the part. He looked like he belonged in a band. What employer would consider hiring him if Johnny happened to find another career he cared about? “But, shit, I didn’t come here to tell you my plans or to catch up. I just wanted to hang with my best friend. It’s been too long.”

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

  “I’d love to.” He took another sip of the beer. “You know what? We could have Napoli deliver a double pepperoni.” Napoli was a local pizza parlor, known throughout the county for its pizzas and pasta. When the two had been in high school, it had been their favorite hangout.

  Katie winced. “There’s something I guess I need to tell you.”

  Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I’m vegetarian now. So how about cheese instead?”

  “Seriously?” He laughed. “My little Katie who loved nothing better than a greasy cheeseburger covered in bacon? Didn’t see that comin’.” He shook his head and laughed again. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we go there instead? Then you could get whatever you wanted. I haven’t been there in years anyway. Besides, we could get a pitcher too.”

  Katie stood up from her stool and smiled. She thought it might be nice to get out of the house for a while. Her workout could wait until tomorrow. “All right. Just let me change clothes.”

  “What’s wrong with what you have on?”

  “A little overdressed, don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” Johnny said.

  “It’ll just take me a minute.” And it did—she took off her suit jacket and skirt but left on the white satin blouse. Then she slid into snug blue jeans with white sneakers and grabbed her jean jacket out of the closet in case it turned cool in the evening. She joined Johnny in the kitchen as he set his empty brown bottle on the counter. She tousled the fur on Sam’s head, grabbed her purse, and followed Johnny out the door.

  Chapter Two

  THEY FINALLY MADE it to Napoli Pizzeria after debating who would drive. Johnny only had his motorcycle, but Katie had a gray four-door Camry. He told her she needed to live a little. Playing to Katie’s core, he said, “Besides, it’s earth friendlier,” placed his helmet in her hands, and sat on the bike until she finally conceded. It turned out that the purse was a nuisance, though, so she made Johnny wait while she removed her wallet and keys, stuck them in her jacket pocket, and placed her purse back inside the house. Johnny grinned at her, triumphant, until she sat behind him and wrapped her arms around his taut torso.

  Napoli hadn’t changed much since high school. It was a homey, poorly lit little place on Main Street that would be forever infused with the smell of garlic and oregano. Johnny had said he hadn’t been there in years, but Katie hadn’t either, even though she could have gone any time she’d wanted. Anymore, when she bothered to eat out, it was usually at the deli in the strip mall or the little restaurant attached to the health food store. She had avoided pizza parlors and burger joints since she’d taken on a healthier lifestyle several years past. But leave it to Johnny—anytime Katie ventured into what he called “boring territory,” he managed to break her out of it when he was around. She had always found it hard to tell him no. He was usually spontaneous, creative, and lively, while Katie was grounded, practical, and, yes, sometimes dull. And that’s why they’d always been so compatible. Just as Katie needed someone to liven her up, sometimes Johnny needed someone to tone him down or to tell him that his bright idea was actually dangerous or mean, only because he hadn’t thought his idea all the way through.

  When she got off the motorcycle after Johnny had parked in Napoli’s tiny parking lot, she removed the helmet and handed it to Johnny. She ran her fingers through her hair, sensing that the helmet had probably made it staticky and unwieldy. When she dropped her arms to her side, she caught Johnny’s stare. He was still standing in the same spot, still holding the helmet, just watching her. A tentative smile crossed Kat
ie’s face. Was her hair that messed up? “What?” She reached up and began smoothing her hair again.

  Johnny grinned. “Nothin’.” He laughed. “Are we a little paranoid?” She laughed too, and Johnny locked the helmet onto the bike. Then he hung his arm around her shoulders. “Man, it’s great to be hangin’ with my best friend again. Been way too long.”

  “Yeah, it has.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, and they sauntered into the front door of what used to be their favorite restaurant, the low-lying early summer sun hitting their backs before the door swung closed behind them.

  Johnny pointed to his right. “Hey, check it out! Our favorite booth is open.”

  A waitress approached them. “Two?”

  “Yeah, but can we sit in that booth over there?”

  The waitress obliged and took them to Johnny’s favorite spot. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

  Katie said, “I’d love a glass of ice water with a wedge of lemon.”

  Johnny snorted. “How about a pitcher of beer? Coors okay with you?”

  Katie wrinkled her nose. “If you’re gonna make me drink with you, make it Light.”

  He scrunched his mouth into a grimace, then laughed. “Okay, Coors Light then.”

  “I’ll be right back with that. Do you still want the water, ma’am?”

  “Yes.” The waitress walked away. Katie lowered her voice, wincing at Johnny. “God, do I really look like a ma’am?”

  Johnny grinned again. “Depends on how old your audience is, I guess. But as far as I’m concerned, I’d say you’re at least two years away from reaching ma’am territory.”

  Katie stuck her tongue out, then smiled back. “So what are you in the mood for? I seriously just want a salad.”

  “Aw, come on, Katie. Don’t be a party pooper.”

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  “Is that why you’ve gotten so skinny now?”

  “I’m not skinny. I’m in shape.”

  “Hmmm.” Johnny looked back down at the menu.

  “Okay, how about if I get a mini cheese pizza with a salad? Would you be happy with that?”

  He smiled. “That’s better. And I think I’ll skip the salad and get a medium pizza covered in double pepperoni. I’ve been craving that for at least a year. Nobody else does it as good as Napoli. And, believe me, I’ve looked.”

  Katie smiled back and shook her head. “So, are we going Dutch? Or I can pick up the tab if you want.”

  “No way. This was my idea. My treat.”

  “Yeah, but you’re in between bands, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’m good. I get some monthly spending money off residuals. I have a coupla albums out there plus there’s this new band just starting up that did a cover of a song off my first album. You’ve probably heard it on the radio. Anyway, there’s always a little money rolling in.”

  “What’s their name? Which song did they do?”

  The waitress approached the table again, placing Katie’s water in front of her, then on the table set a pitcher of beer already forming condensation on the glass and two chilled beer glasses. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Yep.” Johnny pointed to Katie, letting her order first, then ordered his food. Once the waitress left, Johnny asked, “What were we talking about?”

  “I think we were talking about what you’re doing career wise now.”

  Johnny reached for the pitcher, pouring Katie a glass first, then pouring himself one. “Well, Scathing Vengeance just wasn’t going anywhere artistically. Everything we’d written most recently sounds just like the last album. Sure, it’s hard, it’s loud, even awesome by most people’s standards. It’s everything metal should be, but...we just weren’t growing. I wasn’t growing. It was the same old shit, different day. And I’m not getting any younger.” He took a long swallow of his beer. “I need to work with people who care that what we’re doing is not only quality but says something too, means something.” Katie nodded and took a tiny sip of her beer to be polite, then took a big drink of her water. “You know what I mean?”

  “I think so.”

  “Besides, I already did the whole ‘big rock star’ thing. You know that. I’ve spent the last fifteen years living that...partying hard, hooking up with nameless chicks in every port, writing the angry, loud stuff. I just...I just want it to mean something now, you know? If this is going to be my life, then it has to mean something.”

  Katie took a deep breath. “So do you think getting a new band together will help?”

  “Hell, yeah. With Vengeance, we all considered ourselves equal partners. We all contributed. Brian wrote the words and the rest of us guys collaborated on the music.”

  The waitress stopped by with a salad that she carefully placed in front of Katie. A faint smile crossed her face, but she didn’t say a word. “Thanks.” Katie picked up the fork.

  Johnny took another long drink of beer. Once the waitress left, Johnny asked, “Tell me this: do you think our third CD sounded any more mature than our first or second one?”

  “Did it sound different at all, do you mean?”

  Johnny looked at her over the rim of his glass and then set it down again. “You know what I mean.”

  She did; what he’d said before was true. No smoothing it over. He wanted her honest opinion. “No. It just sounded like more of the same. But it was great more of the same.”

  “That may be. But no growth. That’s what I mean. So, here’s my theory. I get together a bunch of guys eager to work and desperate to make it. I already have the connections and the credibility. Hell, I even have a fan base. I do all the writing—lyrics, music, all of it. Then I’m assured we’re doing what I want. It’s gonna be my fucking band, so I want that kind of control.” He took another drink. “Besides, it’s not like they’re not gonna make money with me. They will. They’ll get it all—the fame, the fortune, the chicks. But I can maybe also help them avoid all the stupid mistakes I’ve made.”

  Katie had been nibbling at her salad. “It sounds like a great plan, Johnny.”

  “I think so too.” He poured himself another glass of beer. “But enough about me. What have you been up to since I saw you last?”

  Katie scooted her fork around her salad. She knew the conversation would come here at some point. But she didn’t know that she was ready for it. For one thing, she hadn’t wanted to think about the last time Johnny had been here. She’d been afraid for his life, thought that she’d never see him again, and if she did, she’d feared he’d never be the same. But he’d pulled through it—survived and even thrived. Still, it was a dark period in their friendship that she’d prefer to forget. But it had changed everything. The last time Johnny was in her life had made Katie rethink her life and change the way she lived it.

  Which led her to the matter of Grant. Yes, Johnny would find out soon enough that she was engaged to be married. Hell, she’d probably even ask him to be her best man if she could convince Grant that it was okay for them both to have best men. But she didn’t know that she was ready to tell Johnny. For far too many reasons, she wasn’t prepared to tell Johnny about Grant and her plans for the future.

  Chapter Three

  THE LONG-AWAITED BATTLE of the Bands at Winchester High was approaching. For some reason, the high school had never done anything like this before, but Johnny and his band had insisted (via circulating petition signed by more than half of the student body). Johnny and his band were finally seniors and had been writing their own music for a couple of years now. Katie had listened to a little of it, but Johnny had been secretive. He’d play her a solid guitar riff once in a while (“Katie, guess who this is? That’s right, Judas Priest”), but he gave her no performances, no guitar solos. He wanted her to see their band onstage, “the way we’re meant to be seen.” So she’d bided her time, ever since Johnny had formed his band at the end of their sophomore year.

  So in January, the principal at last acquiesced and announced that the school would hos
t a “Battle of the Bands” in February. It would be judged by popular (audience enthusiasm) vote, as well as by a panel of “experts”—namely, the band director, choir director, theatre director, and a Student Council representative from each grade. And the school decided to hype it up. It would be held in the gymnasium and, thanks to the perks of living in a small town, even the Winchester Tribune would be there, covering the event (if the adults could handle the noise). It turned out that the high school had fourteen bands who asked to perform, so the principal said they wouldn’t even hold tryouts. They’d allow them all the time and space to perform, since the students had made it clear how important this event was. Each band was allowed a maximum of five minutes, not including set-up time. Finally, the administration decided that the winning band would have the honor of performing three songs at the prom later that year.

  Johnny had the band and Katie meet at Napoli (not a surprise) to discuss the news. He was excited that at last he had the opportunity to show the school their talent. Sure, lots of the school kids had heard most of his band members in the school bands—jazz and marching—but in jazz band, it was hard to really show off the guitar playing nor could Johnny display his writing abilities in that situation. Finally, a legitimate venue, he thought.

  Katie kind of knew some of the band members, but they were just Johnny’s other friends. They kind of knew her too, but they felt the same way—she was just Johnny’s old friend. Johnny wanted to change that by getting them all together. Katie already knew Riley Schultz, the lead singer. He’d always been a cocky sonofa, Katie had thought. She knew Riley, a boy with sleepy eyes and a permanently affixed hemp choker, had been on the wrestling and baseball teams back in their freshman and sophomore years, but he gave athletics up to sing lead vocals for Johnny’s band. She knew him from her algebra and geometry classes and had never had a high opinion of him. He’d always just seemed like a lot of shine and little substance. Then there was Mike, their drummer, who’d played bass drum for the high school marching band all four years. And, finally, the two Katie knew the least about were Trent, the quiet guy who played bass, and Norberg, another guitarist. She couldn’t remember what Norberg’s first name was, but she thought it was also Mike. Maybe that’s why they called him by his last name, she figured, to keep things from being confusing. Unfortunately, all the meeting at Napoli had done was make Katie feel even more like an outsider, kind of like Yoko to Johnny’s Lennon, except without the sex. She appreciated that he still felt the same way she did about their friendship, but she felt awkward there. Still, she was a good sport and enjoyed listening to their enthusiasm about their upcoming performance. One thing was clear after that night: they believed they were hot shit, God’s gift to WHS. Katie hoped they were right.