"How's Brett?" I asked, changing the subject. She had married my lead guitarist and they now lived in Colorado. He was in a bigger band now and toured frequently.
She sighed. "On tour again."
"Everything okay?"
She let out a deep breath. "Yeah, but I just wish he didn't have to go away so much."
"Welcome to the music business."
She laughed. "So, what's up? How have you been?"
"Good," I said, but I had said it a bit too quickly.
"Okay. What's up?"
I let out a deep breath. "Are you sitting down?"
I heard something shuffle in the background. "Now I am. What's going on?"
"Logan's alive."
"He what?" she asked, her voice raising several octaves.
"Frank told me tonight," I said. Then, I explained to her about going to New York and thinking that I saw him at the party and on the news.
"That bastard!" she yelled into the phone.
"What?" I asked, sitting up, suddenly concerned.