“A tattoo?”
“The necklace. He said one of his adaptors was painted black over the gold color. He made it into a pendant. He still wears his, too. I don’t think he ever got over you, either.”
Tucker shook his head. “Asshole. One of my adaptors from one of my records that he stole. I still can’t believe it! I think he was looking for our songs. His and mine. Yours and mine. He didn’t want to take the time to learn my system, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?”
“He took the letters that would be the titles and the artist—first name or last—rather than search through them. That’s what I think, anyway. The boxes were labeled according to last name. Our song would have been in the box. Roy took that one, and also ‘E’ and ‘I’ for ‘I Can’t Help…’ and ‘T’ for ‘This Guy’s in Love.’ Whatever. I don’t
