“None of which will ever help that poor bastard play like Buzz does,” he said. “Buzz has the gift.”

“He feels lucky to be in this band,” I said. “He has great respect for the other players.”

Mack smiled. “He’s a generous guy.” As Joleen walked over to Buzz and handed him a beer, Mack added softly, “He’s a little young yet, and I worry that maybe he has a few hard lessons to learn. Hope it won’t discourage him.”

“How do you two manage to work together?” I asked.

He didn’t mistake my meaning. “You mean because of Joleen’s temper? Or because we used to be together?”

“Both.”

“As far as the temper goes, I’m used to her. Over the years we’ve played with a lot of different people; I’ve outlasted a lot of guys who just couldn’t take her attitude. Great thing about Buzz is that he’s not just talented, he’s easy to get along with. He’s able to just let her tantrums and insults roll off of him.”

“And Gordon?” Frank asked.

“Oh, I don’t think Gordon is going to put up with it much longer. The musician’s lot in life, I guess. Bands are hard to hold together. Talk to anybody who’s played in them for more than a couple of years, he’ll have more than a few stories about band fights and breakups.”

“But from what Buzz tells us, you’ve worked hard to reach this point-the CD, the tour, the gig in the Netherlands -”

“Yeah, I’m hoping Joleen and Gordon will come to their senses and see that we can’t let petty differences blow this chance. And I think they will.” He paused, took a sip of beer. “You were also asking about how Joleen and I manage to work together after being in a relationship, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, she and I have always had something special. We write songs together. Musically, we’re a good fit. When we were younger, when we first discovered that we could compose together, there was a sort of passion in the experience, and we just assumed that meant we’d be a good fit in every other way. But we weren’t.”

“Still,” I said, “I’d think it would be painful to have to work with someone after a break-up.”

He smiled. “I won’t lie. At first, it was horrible. But what was happening musically was just too good to give up. The hurt was forgotten. Over the years, we each found other people to be with. And like I said, we have something special of our own, and we’ll always have that.”

He glanced at his watch. “Better get ready for the last set. You two want to come out to dinner with us afterwards?”

“Thanks for the invitation,” Frank said, “but I’m wearing down. Irene, if you want to stay-”

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’ll have to take a raincheck, too, Mack.”

“Sure, another time. I forget that other people aren’t as wired after a gig as the band is. I’ll check with Buzz-I can give him a lift home if he wants to join us.”

I toyed with the idea of heading home early if Buzz should decide to go out to dinner with the band. But my mental rehearsal of the excuses I’d make on my way out the door was cut short when Buzz stopped by the table and said, “They asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with them, but they’re just going to argue, so I’d rather go home after this last set. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t look as phony as it felt.

Q: Why did God give drummers 10% more brains than horses?

A: So they wouldn’t crap during the parade

“What was the name of the first song in the second set?” Frank asked Buzz as we drove him home. He was being uncharacteristically quiet, staring out the car window. But at Frank’s question, he smiled.

“It’s called ‘Draid Bhreá Fiacla.’ That’s Irish for ‘a fine set of teeth.’”

“How romantic,” I said.

“It is, really. Joleen rarely smiles, but once I said something that made her laugh, and she had this beautiful grin on her face after. When I saw it, I said, ‘Well, look there! You’ve a fine set of teeth. I wonder why you hide them?’”

“Did she have an answer?”

He laughed. “In a way. She bit me. Not hard, just a playful little bite. So the next time I saw her, I gave her the song, and told her its name, and got to see the smile again.”

“You wrote that song?” Frank asked.

“She worked on it some after I gave it to her, made it better. It belongs to both of us now, I suppose.”

“Of all the ones we heard tonight, that one’s easily my favorite,” I said.

“Mine, too,” Frank said.

“Joleen says it’s too melodic,” he said. “But I don’t think she means it. She just doesn’t want me to think too highly of myself.”

Q: What’s the difference between a viola and an onion?

A: Nobody cries when you chop up a viola.

“Well, thanks again for the ride,” he said when we pulled up in front of his apartment.

“You have a way over to the club tomorrow night?” Frank asked. “I could give you a ride if you need one.”

“Oh thanks, but the Chevette is supposed to be ready by late afternoon. I’m kind of glad it broke down. It was great to meet you, man.”

“You, too. Stay in touch.”

“I will. You take care, too, Irene.”

After Buzz closed the car door, Frank said, “Let’s wait until he’s inside the building.”

Having noticed the three young toughs standing not far down the sidewalk, I had already planned to wait. But Buzz waved to them, they waved back, and he made his way to the door without harm.

It was about three in the morning when we got to bed. When Buzz called at ten o’clock, we figured we had managed to have almost a full-night’s sleep. Still, at first I was too drowsy to figure out what he was saying. Then again, fully awake I might not have understood the words that came between hard sobs. There were only a few of them.

“She’s dead, Irene. My God, she’s dead.”

“Buzz? Who’s dead?” I asked. Frank sat up in bed.

“Joleen.”

“Joleen? Oh, Buzz…”

“She…she killed herself. Can you come over here? You and Frank?”

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll be right over.”

By the time we got there, he was a little calmer. Not much, but enough to be able to tell us that Gordon had found her that morning, that she had hanged herself.

“It’s his fault, the bastard!” He drew a hiccuping breath. “Last night, when they went out to dinner, he told Joleen he was quitting the band. Mack tried to talk him out of it, but I guess Gordon wouldn’t give in.”

“Gordon called you?”

“No, Mack. He told me she made some angry remark, said we’d just find a new drummer. Mack was upset, and said he didn’t want to try to break in a new drummer in three weeks time, that he was going to cancel the tour. He told her he was tired of her tantrums, tired of working for months with people only to have her run them off. It must have just crushed her-she worked so hard-”

I held him, let him cry, as Frank went into the kitchen. I could hear him opening cupboards. Finally he asked, “Any coffee, Buzz?”

Buzz straightened. “Just tea, sorry. I’ll make it.”

He regained some of his composure as he went through the ritual of making tea. As the water heated, he turned to Frank and asked, “The police will be there, won’t they?”

“Yes. It’s not my case, but I’ll find out what I can for you. The detectives on the case will want to talk to you-”

“To me? Why?”

“Standard procedure. They’ll talk to the people closest to her, try to get a picture of what was going on in her life.”

“Do you think she-I mean, hanging, is it quick?”

“Yes, it’s quick,” Frank said firmly. I admired the authority in it, knowing that he was probably lying. Suicide by hanging is seldom an efficient matter-most victims slowly suffocate. But if Joleen’s suffering hadn’t been over quickly, at least some small part of Buzz’s was.

“Thanks,” Buzz said. “I thought you would know.” He sighed and went back to working at making tea. I straightened the small living room, made it a little more tidy before Buzz brought the tea in and set it on the coffee table. We sat on the floor, although Buzz offered us the mattress-couch.