Shattered Chords (The Encore Book 3)

by N. N. Britt

  I braced myself at the possibility of leaking mascara due to extreme heat and stepped out of the car. The air was dangerously hot and the sun was merciless. I could literally feel it turning my skin to a crust.

  “Bug, are you sure you’re going to be okay in those pants?” I glanced at Ally as we rushed inside.

  Guitar case in hand, she squinted at me. “I’m fine, Mom.”

  Harper fanned his face. “I could use an ice pack.”

  The club was loud and stuffy. The rock music roaring in the background made me feel out of place in my capris and high heels. I realized most parents had on shorts, jeans, and tees. This wasn’t a PTA meeting. This was a concert. Harper and I had left work early and in a rush. I hadn’t had enough time to think through my outfit, and now I looked like a bottle of milk someone had shelved in the nondairy section by mistake.

  On the main floor, employees were rearranging tables and chairs to make more room for the standing audience. The stage crew worked on the light fixtures. Two security guards were stationed near the bar area. I noted a few familiar faces and a couple of Reserved signs on the tables at the booths lining the walls as we made our way through the room.

  “Where do we unload?” Harper asked, looking around.

  “Usually in the back, but we can just bring everything in through the front, I think,” Ally explained, adjusting her grip on the guitar case. “I’m going to ask Cal if he can help with the amps.”

  Pauline, her best friend and bandmate, who also happened to be the lead singer, emerged from one of the doors near the stage. She wore a matching outfit. Tight jeans and a Falling In Reverse top with a dozen rips that showcased her black lacy bra, which I wasn’t fond of.

  “Hey, you! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I’m so nervous.” Pauline rushed over.

  Ally lit up. “I know! Me too.”

  There was a whole lot of jumping, hugging, and squealing as if these two hadn’t spent the last five days together in the Keatons’ garage, preparing for tonight’s show.

  Harper and I blindly followed the girls backstage and down a narrow equipment-cramped hallway. We passed several doors and ducked into the last room on the left. The Keatons, both father and mother, were there. Jules wore jean shorts and a black T-shirt with the band’s logo splashed across her breasts and Ross sported a matching hoodie with the logo on the back and a pair of khakis. I wasn’t sure how he was still alive and breathing with so much clothing on in this weather, but he was someone else’s husband; therefore, I didn’t need to worry about his well-being. I had my hands full with Ally and Harper.

  Jules and Ross Keaton were interesting. High school sweethearts, they married very young, then divorced, then married again. Pauline was their only daughter. Her cousin Trent played drums in Systematic. Skinny, tall, with toxic green-colored hair that hung loosely over his face, he reminded me of a street artist you’d see playing some exotic homemade instrument on the Venice Beach promenade. At first, I’d found it odd that a nineteen-year-old wanted to be in a band with two minors, but after I attended a couple of rehearsals, my worry abated. Trent wasn’t a threat to my daughter’s virtue. Or anyone’s virtue. He was the geeky type who cared about his drums and his hamster.

  “Hi, honey!” Jules extended her hands to greet me.

  “Hi. How are you?” I gave her a smile while my eyes followed Ally. She and Pauline meandered through the cluster of guests with such finesse, you’d think they were born into this. Pauline actually was, since Ross was in a local rock band during his college years. Jules worked for a PR firm, so she knew a lot more about the ins and outs of the entertainment industry than I did.

  The dressing room was stuffed with people of all ages and smelled like sweat. I made note of two guys who looked to be in their twenties according to their wristbands and the beer the one with a dark shock of hair and a flat expression on his smug face nursed. They scowled at Ally and Pauline, a brief exchange took place, then the girls moved on to the next group.

  “Too bad you didn’t see them rehearsing last night.” Jules pulled me into a hug, and her lips smacked near my cheek as she exercised a loud air-kiss. “They were phenomenal.”

  A streak of awkward jealousy squeezed my stomach. Two days ago, when I asked Ally if I could stop by to see her rehearse with the band, my daughter had told me not to micromanage her music career. Those were her exact words. She didn’t want me around when she was with her friends.

  Was I really embarrassing my kid?

  Pushing back my distressed thoughts, I said, “You remember Harper, right? Ally’s godfather?”

  “Pleasure.” Jules drew him into an embrace.

  “The pleasure is all mine, sweets,” Harper squealed with a twist in his face when they broke apart. His gaze darted around the room, evaluating the crowd that grew tighter with each second.

  Ross pushed his way in and shook our hands. “How are you guys doing?”

  “Nervous,” I confessed.

  “They killed it last night. The neighbors weren’t very happy.” Jules laughed, and anxiety flitted across her features.

  “I hope it’s not a problem they rehearse at your place?”

  “Oh, no. Absolutely not,” Ross reassured me. His voice dropped to a whisper. “At least we can keep an eye on them.” He gave me a wink.

  “Good point.” Harper nodded. “Thank you.”

  “We’re happy to do it,” Jules babbled. Eyes wide, she leaned forward. “Eva just told me Jesse Catchum is coming to see the show.”

  I didn’t know who Jesse Catchum was, but judging by the level of excitement in Jules’ voice, he was obviously someone important.

  “Wow, really?” I gave Harper a sideways glance.

  “Mom!” Ally leapt over. Her face was flushed and she looked every bit the wreck a musician should be before their first show. “Can I have your car keys? Cal’s gonna help me with the amp.”

  I fished them from my purse. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “It’s fine. We got it.” She snatched the keys from my palm.

  Cal Valdez was Trent’s friend. I knew his mother. He was also on my harmless boys list.

  The guy with the beer who was hanging out in the back, however, wasn’t. At least, not yet.

  “Do you know that kid in a red T-shirt?” I asked Jules as soon as Ally and Cal exited the dressing room.

  “Oh,” she spun to see who I was talking about. “That’s Braden. He’s Trent’s friend.”

  “Trent is a popular guy,” I croaked.

  Jules stared at me with confusion.

  “What?” I flung up my hands, “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Sweets.” Harper rested his palm on my shoulder. “You’re going to meet a lot of people you’ve never seen before when Bug starts playing regular gigs.”

  Harper never used “if.” He was more certain of Ally’s talent and future than I was of what color panties I wore today or on any given day.

  The dressing room was too hot and too crowded and Jules’ anxiety had begun to give me more jitters.

  “Who’s this Jesse Catchum?” I asked Harper on our way back to the floor.

  “Remember that song ‘Sugar Sky’?'' He started humming a familiar tune as we sashayed through the venue, looking for our table that Eva had apparently arranged for us.

  I sifted through my memories. “Oh my gosh! That’s so old. Ally was what, five, when it came out?”

  “Four.” He motioned at one of the reserved signs. “That’s us.”

  “What was the name of the band?”

  “Monochrome Summer. Jesse’s the singer.”

  “No wonder Jules is so high-strung.” I stifled a laugh, stopping at a spot near the table to check my view of the stage.

  “Too bad they didn’t release anything decent after ‘Sugar Sky.’ But dude’s got a pretty big social media following. So don’t write him off. He’s hooked up.”

  Panic crawled up my back. What if Ally’s music career took off while she was still
in high school?

  “Are you okay?” Harper dipped his head to meet my gaze, and when a strand of his hair fell over his forehead, he blew it out of his eye.

  “I’m just nervous,” I confessed. “My kid is playing a show tonight.”

  “Relax.”

  “I can’t.” My shoulders slumped. “She’s growing up too fast. Next thing I know, she’ll be married,” I said in a whiny voice.

  “Give her space. Let her do this her way, sweets.” Harper smiled softly.

  “I’m horrible, right?” The AC was finally working full blast in the dining room and I could feel the cool air blowing from above.

  “You're definitely a helicopter parent.” Harper shrugged. “But you’re a good one.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m positive. My mother threatened to send me to a psychiatric clinic when I tried to tell her I was gay.” He checked his phone. “We’ve got thirty minutes before the first band goes on. What do you want to drink?”

  “I’m driving.”

  “Sweets, you forgot about the greatest creation of the twenty-first century.”

  “Huh?”

  “Uber.” He waggled his brows. “One drink won’t hurt. You need to unwind while your kid is busy being famous.”

  He came.

  I saw him in my peripheral when The Army of Three was finishing their performance. The boys were all Ally’s age, dressed in tuxedos and armed with guitars. The drummer’s sun-kissed curls bouncing behind the row of cymbals were the only indication someone was actually playing an instrument.

  My heart swelled in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the hormones, the margarita Harper bought me, or the anticipation of seeing my daughter perform, but my emotions were out of control. My mind raced in thousands of different directions along with the music blasting from the speakers lining the stage. There was something magical about a child creating a piece of art, be it my child or someone else’s.

  I’d gone to the dressing room a few times to see if Ally needed help, but she was like a little porcupine. Her spikes came out every time I tried to offer support. All grown up, she was surrounded by her friends, who didn’t need to consult Google about Dante Martinez.

  I didn’t think he’d show up. Why would a man of his wealth and status care to see a local high school band? Yet he was here, in the flesh. Gracing Valley Club with his rock’n’roll majesty presence. He sat at the table in the very back. Alone. The hood of his sweatshirt was thrown over his head. Tiny spotlights danced across his cheeks and chest. A glass of what looked like water sat in front of him, untouched. He sucked on a lollipop like a six-year-old and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to remain unnoticed or this was his usual night-out attitude. The club was packed and the air felt heavy, despite the AC working full-time. Elbows and shoulders knocked. People swirled around Dante’s table, but no one dared to approach.

  Harper had gone to the bar to get another round. After nearly a week of denial over his breakup with Lucas, he was finally letting loose. I was still sipping on my first margarita, but all the confidence the drink had given me was replaced with anxiety the moment I realized Dante Martinez was here.

  On stage, the kids jumped and bellowed. Their instruments and small voices squawked in unison and I willed myself to concentrate on the performance. Toward the end of the last song, when the front rows consisting mainly of enthusiastic parents began to clap and cheer, my gaze returned to Dante. The crowd around his table was growing bigger. I saw a man worming his way in. There it was. His first fan.

  They exchanged a few words and a handshake.

  “This place is hotter than hell.” Harper’s voice cut through the noise. “I got you another margarita.” He slid the drink over to me and flopped onto his stool.

  “Thanks.” I turned to face him and inched closer. “He’s here.” My heart did a little flip as the words left my mouth.

  “Who’s here?”

  “Dante Martinez.”

  Harper bit his straw and blinked rapidly. “You’re kidding?” Curiosity colored his eyes.

  “No.” I jerked my chin in the direction of the table surrounded by a wall of moving bodies. “He’s in the back.”

  “Ooh-la-la. Tonight just got interesting.” Harper craned his neck to get a better view of Dante’s face, but the man was under siege. “I assume he’s been spotted.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Introduce me later, yeah?”

  My phone started ringing. Once. Twice. It was Renn. Panic rushed through my stomach. We’d left her to close the boutique on her own, but she wouldn’t call unless it was something urgent.

  “I have to take this.” I slid from my stool. “I’ll be right back.”

  The song came to an end when I was halfway to the door, and the club erupted. Hands flew up. Feet stomped. A barrage of screams followed me outside, where the air was still impossibly hot.

  My lungs begged me to go back into the building. Lingering heat sizzled across my skin. The sun hung low above the horizon line made up of roofs and structures that occupied the lot. Bright pinks and boastful oranges spilled across the darkening sky, turning the Market Square into a small inferno.

  I stepped away from the entrance and dialed Renn’s number. My shoe impatiently danced against the pavement. “Is everything okay?”

  “Pancho is here,” she said, her tone somewhere between incriminating and lost. “He insists on getting paid.” Renn’s statement sounded more like a question.

  “Oh, Jesus.” I mentally cursed myself. “Yes, we owe him money for repairs.” I’d forgotten to tell her about the broken door. My mind had been all over the place these past few days with Ally having pre-show jitters and Harper going through post-breakup blues.

  “How come I wasn’t aware of this?” Renn asked in a snappy voice. Sometimes, she liked to assume the role of my mother. I didn’t know whether it was the age thing or the fact that she’d worked at Dream Bride much longer, but she wanted to know what was happening at the boutique at all times.

  “It just slipped my mind,” I explained. “There’s an envelope with his name on it under the cash box in my desk. He worked on the storage door last week and I was supposed to give the payment to Rita.”

  “Okay. I’ll handle it. Tell Ally I said good luck.”

  “I will. Thank you. And please go home.”

  “I’m about to. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the shop?”

  “Yes, we’ll be there. Bye.”

  “Buh-bye, hon.”

  The tip of my shoe continued to tap the asphalt. I killed the call and glanced at the gleaming armada of cars that crammed the lot. Most shops were closing down for the day. The only place that still buzzed was the pizzeria next door and, obviously, the club.

  Inside, the music ended and clusters of parents poured out onto the sweltering street.

  “Nervous?” a voice behind me purred.

  A shiver rolled down my spine. “Oh.” Startled, I spun around and came face-to-face with Dante. Our gazes clashed. “You scared me.” An anxious laugh bubbled up my throat and I rested my palm on my chest as if that would stop my heartbeat from going berserk.

  It didn’t.

  Only a couple feet of empty space separated us and the subtle scent of him, a blend of spice and wood, pierced the hot air and crept up my nose.

  “I was hoping for a different reaction.” He raised a brow and ran his eyes down my body. I couldn’t remember when a man had ever looked at me the way Dante did—with curiosity.

  The buzz in my head twisted my thoughts. “And what reaction would that be?”

  He took a step forward. “Joy maybe.” A soft smile touched his lips.

  “Ha.” I tossed my head back and belly-laughed.

  “I must say, I’m impressed with the showmanship so far.” He motioned in the direction of the club.

  “Did you see The New Arcade? They were so good.”

  “Sadly, I didn’t catch them.”

  “What
did you think of the last band?” I slid my phone into the back pocket of my capris and took a moment to drink him in. He wore very simple clothes that were probably meant to help him blend in—a black T-shirt and a black hoodie that hid the ink on his arms. His jeans were somewhere between loose and fitted and sat low on his hips. He wanted women to notice him, but he didn’t want them to see too much. His height, however, put him at a disadvantage. Broad-shouldered and tall, Dante Martinez was—as Harper would say—eye candy.

  “I think they were pretty good for fifteen-year-olds.” He dialed up his smirk.

  “Yes,” I agreed. Clouds of fuzz in my head messed with my brain function. I’d set the bar high with my ID request during our first meeting. I wanted to give the man another witty comeback. But instead, I ogled him like my daughter would ogle guitars in a music store. Part of me almost wished I hadn’t spent the last three days secretly reading tabloids and checking out his photos.

  “Ally doesn’t need moral support?” Dante asked, his gaze returning to my face.

  “Oh.” I drew in a deep breath, then whispered, “She’s at that age where she’d rather not have me around.”

  “Why on earth would someone not want to have you around?” There was a little lilt in his rasp that gave away his Latino roots. I found it sexy. I also noticed he hadn’t really spoken like this at the shop when we’d met. Ah, the man had some tricks he used only when he was trying to impress a woman.

  “She’s a teenager,” I pointed out. “She’s embarrassed by my absolute lack of knowledge about all things rock music.”

  “Well, that’s fixable. I’m available for private lessons.”

  He was flirting and every fiber in my body screamed to be careful and not fall for his charm.

  “Trust me,” I said, pushing my ideology on how all men were useless to the very back of my mind. “You can be the coolest and most understanding parent and your fifteen-year-old kid will still think you’re lame. That’s just how it is.”

  Dante smiled, and the faint lines in the corners of his eyes deepened, revealing his years. “I assure you, you’re not lame.”

  “Tell that to my daughter.”