Page 8 of Doc Rock
Donnie shrugged. “It is,” he agreed, pulling a chuckle from Ford.
“Thanks, mate.” Ford pushed Donnie’s shoulder.
He said quietly, “I did think you were the couple that would make it.”
Fordswallowedhard.“Me too. Life, though,hasa way of kicking you in the balls when you least expect it. I don’t think about her much anymore,”Fordlied.“Seeinga band with a female guitaristmademe think of her again.”
Donnie nodded, then asked, “How’s Sylvia?”
Ford chuckled darkly when he thought of his latest ex. She'd dumped him a few days ago when he had clearly told her that he would not be getting married and that if she was waiting for a proposal, it would be better if they split up now.
“She dumped me.” Ford shrugged. He was sad; he'd had some great times with Sylvia, but he'd known for a while that it wasn't going anywhere, and if he hadn't been on tour, their relationship would have ended months ago.
“Marriage?” Donnie asked.
This wasn’t the first time that Ford had been in this position. Once he got sick of the groupies, he became a serial monogamist, with each relationship exploding when his girlfriend began to make noises that they would like a ring and a wedding.
“Yeah,” Ford groaned. He hated that he was having this conversation again with Donnie.
“Maybe one day you’ll be ready.”Donnietriedto reassure him.
Ford’s mindflashedback again to long dark hair, violet eyes and apointedchin. Heusedto tuck her under his arm, her head only coming up to his shoulder, and they would talk about everything and nothing.
“Maybe,” he said non-committedly.
“How are you feeling about the last show?” Donnie changed the subject.
“Good,” Ford said.
“And you’re happy for it all to stop?” Donnie questioned.
When Ford said he was done for a long time, they’d argued back and forth. Donnie told him to think about what he wassaying. The rest of the band joined in the fight, as without their frontman, they were on hiatus too.
But Ford insisted he needed a break.A long break.
Fordshrugged.“Yeah. I love it, it’s my whole life. But I feel likeI’mthirty-eight years old, andlivingin this bubblehasn’tgivenme any time to work out what I like outside of music.” Itsoundedclichéd, but heneededsome time to find himself.
“What if it’s only music?” Donnie asked.
Ford chuckled. “If it’s only music, then I’ll give you a call, and we can arrange the next tour.”
Heknewthat the guys would accept immediately. They alllovedthe band's lifestyle. Waking up in a new country every few days. The publicity. The perks of fame. Although they did admit itwasharder being the frontman. While the other three could still walk down the street and only berecognisedby die-hard Midnight Thunder fans, hewasstoppedwherever hewent.
Sometimes, he could see why Siewalkedaway from it all; the attention could be overwhelming. What he couldn’t understandwaswhy shewalkedaway fromhim.
When he was alone and couldn’t sleep, he often rehearsed the conversation that he would have with her if they ever met again. But so far, the private investigators had found nothing, and as the years went on, he began to accept it was a pipe dream that would never happen.
Donnieclappedhim on the shoulder.“I look forward to that phone call.”
Ford nodded and went back to listening to the band. Bobbing his head in time to the beat.
His gazesnaggedon long, dark hair on the other side of the stage. His heartskipped, and his legspropelledhim forward without his conscious decision.
Making his way around the back of the stage, hepretendedto be checking on one of his guitars, whichweresittingwaitingfor him to play.
His pulsepoundedin his ears as hetriedto catch a glimpse of the woman’s face. It wouldn’t be Sie, but heneededto check.
When the woman turned, beautiful, dark almond-shaped eyes met his gaze.
