page_103 < previous page page_103 next page > Page 103 knew this house, had even been here before, and I touched the ring cautiously. Had he been in this spot? Had he touched this very ring, threaded a worn strip of leather through it, fingered it in an idle moment, over a hundred years ago? I could feel the dents of the handwrought metalwork in the smooth black surface. The knocking sounded again. I dropped the ring and opened the door, pushing the disquieting feeling away from me. Of course he hadn't. "Sorry." I smiled at the blond girl waiting outside the door. Her eyes were clouded with drink and her lipstick was smeared. It was the girl from the table next to us, the thoroughly kissed one. Squelching the urge to smirk and mutter "Get a room," I merely passed her with a tolerant smile. When I reentered the barroom the table was empty. I glanced around and quickly found Carter, his tall back to me, conversing with the musician. Between the worn sweatshirt, blue jeans, and the longish cut of his dark blond hair, he could have been any interested fan as he took the guitar the musician extended to him. I saw the white flash of his teeth as he accepted it. He held it by the neck, examining the curved, polished body and the point where the plugs connected, then settled it, after some manipulation of the wires, comfortably against his torso. At first he simply ran his fingers along the strings; then he leaned toward the musician and apparently asked a question about them, because the man bent toward his guitar case and handed him a package of unused strings. Carter read the package carefully as the man spoke, then nodded and handed them back. He raised a booted foot to rest it on the bottom rung of the musician's stool as his fingers plucked out a few random, clear notes. He lifted his head at the amplified sound, his eyes on the ceiling, listening. Â < previous page page_103 next page >