I left the questioning at that, but I approached the guitars and took the black Jackson into my hands. I let my eyes roam across the curves of the body and up the polished neck. The strings looked fresh, not a spot of rust on them.

"Go on," Emily grinned, picking up her bass.

"You sure Amanda won't mind?" I asked.

"Nah, at least they'll get played," she shrugged. "I play around with them sometimes, but I'm not very good with that many strings."

I took a seat on the stool that was positioned beside the dual rectifier amp and rested the guitar on my leg. It was awkward to...