Tribute

so the sound of it poured right over the music. And straight into Ford’s gut.
    Tattoo Guy grinned at her, in a way that spoke of love, intimacy and history.
    “You never change. What if you’d . . . Hey, Ford.”
    “Hey.”
    Spock stiff-walked over to Tattoo Guy. “Steve, this is Ford, my neighbor across the road. And that would be Spock. Steve detoured down from New York on his way back to L.A.”
    “How you doing? Hey, guy, hey, pal.” He ruffled Spock’s big head with his ringed hand. Ford’s lips curled in disgust when his dog—his loyal best friend—dropped his head lovingly on Steve’s knee.
    “Want a beer?” Steve offered, giving Spock a full-body rub.
    “Sure. Are you driving the Harley cross-country?”
    “The only way to travel.” Steve opened a beer, passed it to Ford. “My girl out there, she’s my one true love. Except for Cill here.”
    Cilla snorted. “I notice you still put the bike first.”
    “She’ll never leave me, like you did.” Steve clamped a hand on Cilla’s knee. “We used to be married.”
    “You and the bike?”
    The cool remark had Steve tossing back his head and laughing. “We’re still married. Cill and I only were.”
    “Yeah, for about five minutes.”
    “Come on. It was at least fifteen. Pull up a step,” Steve invited.
    The polite thing to do, the sensible thing to do would be to back off, back away. But Ford was damned if he’d be polite or sensible. He sat. And the brief sour look he sent Spock had the dog hanging his head. “So you live in L.A.”
    “That’s my town.”
    “Steve got me into flipping. Houses,” Cilla added. “He needed some slave labor on a flip one day, drafted me. I liked it. So he let me go into the next one with him.”
    “When you were married.”
    “God no, years after that.”
    “You were writing a script when we were married.”
    “No, I was doing voice-overs and recording. I started the script after.”
    “Right, right. I worked on a session with Cilla, picking up some change and contacts while I was trying to get my band off the ground.”
    “You’re a musician.” It just figured.
    “Right now I’m a licensed contractor who plays guitar on the side, and does the HGTV thing.”
    “ Rock the House ,” Cilla supplied. “Home-improvement type show that takes the viewer through stages of a rehab, remodel, a flip. Named after Steve’s construction company.”
    TV guy, Ford thought. That just figured.
    “Construction was my day job, back in rock-star-hopeful days,” Steve continued. “And I talked Cill into bankrolling my first flip when I saw how the real estate market was heading and when the band flushed away. Hit that mother in the sweet spot. Is that your Victorian across the street?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Nice. So do you know where we can get a pizza around here?”
    Pizza was a key word for Spock, who lifted his shamed head and did his happy dance. “Eat in or delivery?”
    “Delivery, man. I’m buying.”
    “I’ve got the pizzeria’s number,” Cilla told him. “Do you want the usual?”
    “Stick with a winner.”
    “Ford?”
    “Whatever you want’s fine.”
    “I’ll call it in.”
    When Cilla went in, Steve tipped back his beer. “Did you rehab the place yourself?”
    “No, I bought it that way.”
    “So what’s your line? What do you do across the street?”
    “I write graphic novels.”
    “No shit.” Steve bumped Ford in the arm with his beer. “Like The Dark Knight and From Hell ?”
    “More Dark Knight than Campbell. You into graphic novels?”
    “Ate comic books for breakfast, lunch and dinner when I was a kid. But I didn’t discover the graphics until a few years ago. Maybe I’ve read some of yours. What . . . damn, are you Ford Sawyer?” The brown eyes went child-like wide, and full of thrill. “Are you the fucking Seeker?”
    So maybe the guy wasn’t a complete asshole, Ford decided. “Yeah, that’s right.”
    “This is unreal. It’s like surreal . Check this out.” Standing, Steve yanked off his T-shirt, turned his back. There, among the other art decorating Steve’s back, was a tattoo of the Seeker striding over the left shoulder blade.
    “Well . . . wow.” Ford’s usually active mind switched off.
    “Your dude is completely awesome. I mean, he totally rocks. He suffers, and I feel that.” Steve punched a fist into his chest. “But he keeps going. Picks it up and goes, does what he has to do. And the bastard can walk through freaking walls! How do you