“Just a thought,” he said when the silence lasted long enough to get awkward. “We don’t have anyone else lined up yet.” Another piece of bacon into his mouth. His lips glistened with the grease.
“No, I…” I shook my head. God, but I would love to. The high of playing on stage, jumping around, laughing, singing—making money from it, making a living! With this group of people…It was more tempting than any golden fiddle I could have ever hoped for.
“We’re not trying to press gang you,” Hitomi said, when the silence got awkward again. “We know other fiddlers. We needed you because you could come in on short notice when no one else could. Not that we aren’t thrilled to have you, Eli. I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”
“We’re grateful,” Doug reassured me, reaching across the table to pat my wrist. “We like you. If you ever need anything from us, we owe you.”