CHAPTER 42

Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the teeth.

She shrugged. “Well, if you can’t…”

He grunted, the arms crossed over his chest tightening until his biceps strained the sleeves of his T-shirt. “There’s a difference between can’t and won’t.”

“The outcome is the same.”

The band started the next song. Myrna watched with her usual enthusiasm, pretending to ignore Malcolm, who tapped his toe occasionally and shifted his hands into his pockets during Brian’s solo. This might be easier than she thought. He wanted to be up there with Brian. She knew he did. So why was he holding back? And why did he find it necessary to belittle not only Brian, but his entire band?

The majority of the crowd was a mosh pit—bodies ricocheting off each other in chaos. When the song ended, the audience surged toward the barrier as individuals tried to situate themselves closer to the stage.

“Wild crowd tonight,” Myrna commented. “Ever had a crowd like this one?”

Malcolm snorted. “Ever heard of Woodstock?”

“Oh