“Boone, honey, will you zip me up?”

Vera Jean Collins had the kind of beauty that turned heads, the grace of a royal, and the unshakeable poise to shrug off even the most rabid paparazzi. And tonight, all those characteristics would be put to the test. 

I’d never get over how beautiful my grandmother was. The only constant in my life, she was my home, my role model, and my best friend. Wearing a form-fitting, sleeveless black dress adorned with iridescent rainbow sparkles, she had a youthful glow about her at sixty-eight years old and still commanded attention. A statuesque former actress, beleaguered rockstar wife, and now passionate philanthropist, Vera Jean Collins carried herself with an elegance that belied her years spent married to my lovable scoundrel of a grandfather. 

“That tuxedo is very flattering,” she said as I stepped behind her and carefully zipped her dress to the nape of her neck. She’d pulled her long silver hair into a twist that looked professionally done, and with her heels on, she stood nearly eye-to-eye with my five-eleven frame. “I love the vest, too.”

I looked down at the navy velvet suit and gold brocade vest and smiled. “The tailor did a nice job taking it in. I think Papa would get a kick out of me wearing this. He loved this one.” 

I held up the matching tie and she took it from me, gesturing for me to let her tie it. She looped it over my head and went to work, a wistful smile on her face. 

“He certainly did. He bought it to irritate me, and then was frustrated when I told him that I loved how it brought out the blue in his eyes. He was always trying to pull a fast one on me.”

“And you’d always call his bluff.”

She handed me her diamond choker to fasten, and I winced when I noticed her hands were shaking. She was so brave, no matter the challenge before her, but I’d learned to notice the subtle traces of her struggles. Tonight her task would be smiling and waving at her deceased husband’s adoring fans and colleagues as he was posthumously inducted into the Rock Hall. I knew she missed him terribly. We both did. 

“Kept things fun,” she said with a little shrug. She ran her fingers over her choker and relaxed her shoulders. “Always kept him guessing.”

I had my own reason for being nervous. My band, Stellar, was chosen to lead the tribute performance. In a few hours, I would be performing for an arena full of my musical heroes. With Bruce Duncan. I usually did my best when under pressure, but this was ridiculous. 

“It was weird seeing Bruce at rehearsal.”

I’d grown up hearing the stories of when he and my grandfather ruled the world, but I hadn’t seen him in years and had no idea what to make of him as a person. 

“Oh? How so?”

Gran stopped what she was doing and turned to face me.

“He talked to everyone else in the room but me. Well, he scolded me about the timing on one of the songs.”

“Relax, darling,” she said as she fastened her bracelet. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

“I’m not nervous. I know these songs like the back of my hand.”

“Right,” she said as she looked me up and down. “And that’s why your shirt is misbuttoned.”

I ran my hand down my shirt, and sure enough, I’d missed a button and the thing had a big bump in the middle sticking out from my vest. I went about undoing and redoing my shirt and vest. You’d think by the age of thirty, I’d be able to dress myself. You’d be wrong, apparently. 

“Yeah, well, his infuriating grandson has probably told him terrible things about me.”

“Oh, nonsense. Shane is a good boy.”

“Boy? He’s two years older than me.”

“You two have more in common than you’d think.”

“He’s determined to be rude to me, so I guess I’ll never know.” 

She was right in the sense that we came from similar backgrounds, but that’s where the similarities ended. I put together a band of unique artists interested in playing smart rock music with a point and a backbone. Shane was a hotheaded, brilliant musician who, instead of following in his grandfather’s virtuoso footsteps, had chosen to while away his time in a mediocre albeit popular metal band, making record after record of predictable drivel. He could do so much better. 

“Maybe if you two walked a mile in each other’s shoes, you’d get along better. Speaking of which, do you have to wear those shoes?”

I looked at my feet and back at her. “My Chucks? Of course, I’m wearing my Chucks. They’re custom-made. Most comfortable shoes I own.” I’d chosen my gold sparkly ones tonight to match the tuxedo, so they really stood out. 

She exhaled through her nose and raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome,” she said as she fastened her dangly diamond earrings. “You get away with a lot more that way.”

“And you wouldn’t let just anyone escort you tonight. Right. You said that already.” She could tease me all she wanted. I knew how much she loved me. 

“Are you almost ready? Or do you have more metal to put in your head?”

She smiled sweetly at me and I rolled my eyes. I adjusted my septum piercing and ran my fingers over the thick silver rings in both ears. I had a stud through my tongue as well. 

“I think I’m good.” I crossed my eyes at her and she wrinkled her nose. Then her smile morphed into that grandmotherly look I recognized. 

“How about you, Boone? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. All good.”

I’m not changing the shoes, though. I mentally stuck my tongue out at her. 

Gran slipped her hand through my offered arm and I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. 

“Chin up, tits out,” she muttered. 

“I’ll try to remember that.”

She subtly hip-bumped me and put on her most dazzling smile, no doubt practicing for the evening ahead.

I loved this woman, owed her my life, and I would stand by her side no matter what. I wanted her to be happy. She deserved happy. 

As for me? I just needed to survive without making a fool of myself. I knew I was good enough to keep up with the likes of Bruce Duncan, but he’d rattled me more than I let on at that rehearsal. The idea that I wouldn’t do my grandfather’s music justice terrified me. 

Papa taught me everything I needed to know to launch my career. I would do him proud tonight. 

And if that meant dealing with the likes of Bruce Duncan or his aggravating grandson, Shane Butler, so be it. 

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