Shattered Chords (The Encore Book 3)

by N. N. Britt

  But Dante Martinez…

  Dante Martinez was a diamond in the rough, who, no matter how hard he tried to blend in tonight, still managed to get under my skin.

  “How about next weekend?” Jules asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have an opening next Saturday in the afternoon if the guys want to come by my studio,” Jesse explained.

  It appeared that my worst fears were becoming reality faster than I’d expected. Ally was only fifteen, and while I didn’t discount the possibility of her touring and recording one day, Jesse’s invitation truly terrified me. My mind fast forwarded into the not-so-distant future and I didn’t like the picture my imagination was painting.

  “I’m sure I can make it.” I forced out a smile and shook off my unease. “Where’s your studio again?”

  “Burbank.”

  “Great,” Jules said, her voice rising as she clapped. “Then it’s settled. Next Saturday.”

  I felt a light tremble beneath my feet, followed by muffled music that streamed in from the hallway. The last band of the night had just taken the stage and some guests began to leave to see the show.”

  Jesse motioned at the door. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about these guys.”

  We exited the dressing room and merged with the crowd that was heading to the main floor.

  Dead on Fire was a three-piece ensemble that blew everyone who’d performed earlier tonight out of the water. The front rows filled as the set progressed. There was a kid with a Nikon and a telephoto lens snapping photos, and a girl in a jean jacket had taken on filming duties. The singer, who also played bass, was a hippie version of a young Justin Timberlake, and the entire band sounded a lot like a child of Maroon 5 and Coldplay. The stage was ablaze and the walls shook, and the audience seemed to love them.

  I stayed and watched two full songs before leaving the building.

  Outside, nightfall had darkened the sky and the soft pole light shone like glitter across the windshields and roofs of the cars that packed the lot. Small groups of parents lined the sidewalk, their chatter mixing with the rumble that came from the club. The air wasn’t cooler by a lot, but I inhaled as much of it as I could anyway, needing a recharge.

  My gaze darted around, searching for Ally. I noted a long line of hungry teenagers snaking down the sidewalk and through the doors of the pizzeria and Harper hiding in the back seat of my car with his phone pressed to his ear.

  A tiny fraction of me secretly hoped to see Dante at least once more before the night came to an end. It was the strangest thing, irrational even—to want something that didn’t belong in my life. Not in the slightest. But it was there, nonetheless, and that bothered me. A man hadn’t made me blush and flutter inside in years.

  Shaking off the stupid longing that I shouldn’t be having in the first place, I marched over to the 4Runner and wrenched the door open. “What are you doing here alone in the dark?”

  “I think I might be wasted,” Harper confessed, breathing out a sigh. “I’m not feeling all that great, sweets.” An expression that could only be described with one word—misery—told me he wasn’t lying.

  “You want me to get you an Uber?”

  “Nah.” He dropped the phone into his lap, face sour.

  “Who are you talking to?” I saw Lucas’s name on the screen.

  “Just tying up some loose ends.” Harper shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, although it was. “Asshole still has half of his shit in my condo.”

  “Give me that.” I snatched the phone from him and ended the call before sliding the device into my purse.

  “You’re mean.” He pouted.

  “Friends don’t let friends call their cheating exes.” I matched his grimace.

  “But I’m just trying to get him to pick up his crap. It’s taking up space.”

  “Not tonight.”

  Seeing that I couldn’t be persuaded to return him his phone unless he stopped torturing himself, Harper changed the subject. “Bug killed it, huh?”

  “She did.” My lips formed a smile.

  Harper scrambled out of the car and handed me my keys. “Here. Amps are back in the trunk. I’m gonna find the restroom.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “I think I can manage.”

  “Okay, but come back as soon as you’re done.”

  “Can I have my phone?”

  “No.”

  Harper frowned. “What if I trip and fall?”

  I heaved out a sigh. He had a point. Sort of. “Can you promise not to call Lucas?”

  He mustered a crooked half-grin. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You weren’t in the Scouts.”

  “I swear on my hair.” He raked his hand through his disheveled strands. “I won’t call my asshole ex.”

  I returned his phone and watched him stride back into the club. Breakups sucked and Harper obviously wasn’t coping as well as he’d lead everyone to believe.

  Yet again, Dante sneaked up on me like a wildcat while I was plowing through the trunk to make sure Ally’s amps were back in place and nothing was missing.

  “I went backstage to congratulate the band on their debut and you weren’t there,” he explained with a smirk on his face.

  “It’s too hot inside.”

  “Sorry about disappearing earlier.” A chuckle. “Fans.”

  “That’s okay. I suppose it happens to you quite often when you’re in public.”

  “Not necessarily, but this crowd”—he motioned at the club—“is actually pretty rock’n’roll adept. I kinda knew what I was getting myself into.”

  “And yet you didn’t bring a bodyguard?” I joked, slamming the trunk closed.

  “Don’t need one.” He shook his head and inched closer. “Are you hungry?”

  His question caught me off guard. Goosebumps prickled the back of my neck.

  “I was thinking about checking out that pizza place.” He jerked his chin toward the assembly of teenagers crowding the entrance of the shop.

  “Oh.” I glanced at the sign above the glass double doors, contemplating. Ally and I had never been here. We weren’t huge fans of Italian food. We both preferred sushi. “I’ll have to ask Harper when he gets back.”

  Dante nodded. “Who can say no to pizza?”

  “A person who’s had too much to drink.”

  “Ah…” Awareness came into his eyes. “That’ll do it.” He gave me a nod.

  “I’m sorry…” I’d forgotten Dante Martinez had just checked out of rehab. Suddenly, being around him felt uncomfortable. What if I’d said the wrong thing?

  “That’s okay. You can totally joke about booze and drugs in front of me.” The corners of his mouth lifted as if he’d just read my mind. “I’m not a snowflake who gets offended over every single thing. As a matter of fact, I don’t get offended at all.” His smile had turned into a full-blown megawatter. “Bring it on, darlin’.”

  Slightly stunned, I failed to react. Instead, there was a long pause filled with noise and approaching footsteps.

  “Hey.” I heard Ally’s squeal to my right. She waved at Dante and stood next to me.

  “You rocked it, Hendrix.” He gave her a fist bump.

  “I messed up the end of the last solo.” She scrunched up her nose, and an expression of devastation flitted across her face. Everything seemed like the end of the world for her at this age.

  “You want some pizza? I was just asking your mom.”

  Oh no, he didn’t.

  A weird blend of feelings that felt like a punch in the gut wrapped inside the softest blanket twisted my stomach. The man just used my own daughter to get to me. It was profoundly low yet charming, and I appreciated the effort.

  “Pizza sounds great!” Ally grinned, looking at me through her black curtain of hair. “Right?”

  “Here you are!” Jules’ voice came at me from behind. “We reserved a table next door,” she said, walking over.
“You’re welcome to join.”

  I could feel the whiffs of cold air blowing across my neck and cheeks from above. Sadly, it didn’t help me at all. My face was hot and a layer of sweat covered my back. I sat beside Harper, who was working on his plate of buffalo wings. I’d never pegged my best friend for a spicy food aficionado, but he seemed so miserable after the phone call to Lucas that I didn’t dare challenge his odd craving. Post-breakup blues made people do crazy things. I knew it firsthand. The end of my latest relationship had convinced me that signing up for a boxing class would solve all my problems. I’d lasted exactly two weeks.

  The crowd in the dining room was thinning out as the night went on and the noise level had finally dropped to bearable. We no longer needed to raise our voices to keep the conversation going.

  Opposite of us sat Dante. Sandwiched between Pauline and Ally, he looked somewhat uncomfortable. And maybe even overwhelmed. A slice of mushroom pizza that had been lying on his plate for over an hour was untouched.

  While the girls showered him with questions about touring, Jules kept trying to get the man to take her business card.

  As expected, several people approached our table to get Dante’s autograph. We hardly spoke because our children monopolized all his attention, but once in a while, his gaze wandered over to me and focused on my face as if he was trying to communicate something, which only heightened my awareness. It wasn’t until midnight, when the Keatons started getting ready to leave, that he finally scooted over to check on Harper.

  “You good, man?”

  “Never been better.”

  “You got aspirin at home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Take some and eat a good breakfast tomorrow.” Dante clapped Harper on the back. “You’ll be like new.”

  Harper pushed the empty plate aside and turned to look at me. “I’m taking a sick day tomorrow, okay?”

  I wasn’t going to let him inside the boutique anyway, even if he tried to come to work, but I was happy he asked. “Of course. I need you fresh and ready for Sunday.”

  Jules leaned across the table and shook Dante’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” She held on to him longer than necessary, as if the man were made of gold. Her husband pretty much had to drag the poor starstruck thing outside.

  Ally followed them to their car to say goodbye to Pauline. Bits and pieces of their chatter carried across the dining room as they marched through the double doors and into the parking lot.

  At times, I didn’t understand how the girls never got tired of each other. They seemed to spend more time together than most married couples. Although I was no expert, I liked to think observing my parents’ marriage allowed me to make certain assumptions.

  We stayed at the table a little longer and waited for the Keatons to load into their SUV. Ally was outside, texting, when Dante, Harper, and I exited the pizzeria.

  “Have a good night!” yelled an employee’s voice from behind the counter.

  Poor guy probably couldn’t wait to close up.

  The light taps of Ally’s keyboard trailed after us as we strolled over to my car. There was no more music and no more screaming teenagers flocking to the lot. The madness had vanished. The air was cool and the night was quiet.

  Harper looked like he’d just finished working a double shift at an In-N-Out Burger at Six Flags on a Fourth of July weekend. He slipped into the back and Dante handed him Ally’s guitar case. I’d been adamant about leaving a six-thousand-dollar item in the trunk while we ate. Sure, this was a wealthy neighborhood, but one could never be too careful.

  Ally climbed into the front seat and turned to look at Dante. “We might have another show soon. Wanna come?”

  “You let me know when and I’ll try to make it.” He nodded eagerly.

  I rounded the car and checked on Harper while they continued to discuss guitars. My heart was beating faster than usual as I watched them slap palms and bump fists. Ally had never made friends so quickly. It was twice as hard for her because of how she chose to dress and behave. These days, very few girls were into metal music. It’d become underground and outdated.

  “Thank you for the pizza,” Dante said, moving in my direction. He stood close and I could smell him, his subtle masculine scent that I’d almost forgotten.

  “You didn’t eat any.”

  “Your kid didn’t let me.” He chuckled, his dark, fiery eyes meeting mine.

  “Yes, she’s a curious young lady.” I glanced at Ally over my shoulder. She was nose deep in her phone. God forbid she was texting that Braden guy who didn’t even try to give a decent smile.

  “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” Dante asked out of the blue, elusive flames dancing in his gaze.

  My throat tightened. There it was. The offer I didn’t want to refuse but had to. The man had a reputation and I wasn’t sure how I fit into the decadent picture that his life was. “I can’t make that decision after witnessing a teenage screamfest for three hours straight,” I said quietly, hoping my daughter couldn’t hear us.

  He didn’t seem surprised. On the contrary, he continued to push forward. “When will be a good time to ask you then?” A cocky smile touched his lips.

  “How about Sunday? Ten a.m. Meet me at Sixty-seven hundred Topanga Canyon Boulevard.” I pulled the door open and slipped into my seat.

  “Sixty-seven hundred Topanga Canyon?” Dante repeated, his brows pulling together.

  I started the car and shouted over the purr of the engine. “Ten a.m. Don’t be late and don’t dress up.” Then I closed the door and pulled out of the parking space.

  “Did you just say no to a date with Dante Martinez?” Ally’s accusatory voice crept up on me as we drove off. “Out of all the men who’ve asked you out, you had to shut down the one I actually like. What’s wrong with you, Mom?”

  A thousand warning bells went off in my head. I could already see how it would all end. She would fall hard and then he would disappear. Just like every other man before him. “Let’s see what he’s made of first, Bug.”

  The best way to avoid heartbreak was simply to avoid getting involved with anyone who’d broken hearts before. And Dante Martinez had broken millions.

  5 Dante

  Sure, I didn’t always get what I wanted, but Camille’s rejection stung. Perhaps it was because she was the first woman I’d asked out...in over a decade. Or perhaps she was the first woman who’d found a way to put a dent in my ego.

  I hadn’t had the need to lift a fucking finger to get someone into my bed since I was of legal age. Back in the early Hall Affinity days—when almost every club in the Valley, L.A., and even Orange County had begun to book the band—rivers of booze and dozens of horny girls had accompanied us after each show to wherever we’d taken the party.

  We were young, hot, and talented. You’d had to get in line to fuck us.

  I couldn’t understand why Camille had said no to a dinner. I’d done what any gentleman would. Food before blowjob. Walking before running.

  “Yo!” Malik’s fingers snapped in front of my nose. “You with me, brother?” He sputtered out a laugh.

  I flipped him the finger and lifted my face to the sky. “Fuck you.” A lonely cloud drifted across the endless canvas of bleakness above my head. We’d left earlier than usual today, but the heat was ruthless, even at this hour.

  “Something on your mind?” Malik punched the air and continued to sprint in place. Puffs of dust slapped across his running shoes. Sometimes, I couldn’t figure out how he didn’t get tired. It was like his battery never ran out. No matter how long the hike was and no matter how little he’d slept the night before. Dude was a fucking machine.

  “I asked someone to dinner last night,” I said, screwing the cap off my water bottle.

  “Oh yeah?” Malik moved to stand opposite of me. His massive chest blocked my view of the Valley. “Who is she?”

  “Someone I met a few days ago.”

  “Good for you, brother.”
>
  “She said no.”

  “Her loss.”

  “I’m going to ask her again,” I said as if I needed to voice my intentions to ensure I followed through. I’d been doing that a lot lately—telling my therapist about my plans and writing down the things I wanted to do. I hadn’t really understood the power of manifestation until one morning when I’d woken up in my room at Passages and realized my head felt like a blender. I’d had to learn how to compartmentalize my thoughts all over again.

  Walking before running, my therapist had explained the theory in a nutshell.

  I took a swallow of my water and met Malik’s gaze.

  He stopped moving and locked his hands behind his head. “Just don’t get married or you’ll end up like me—homeless.” His sweaty face broke into a huge grin. Knowing how to laugh at oneself without feeling self-pity was a rare quality, and Malik had mastered the art of not giving a fuck. Life had thrown him under the bus again and again and he still kept pushing through. His perseverance was contagious.

  “I said it before and I’m saying it again. You’re always welcome to stay at my place.” It was a genuine offer. Besides, my house was so huge, I doubted we’d even see each other unless we made fucking appointments.

  “Nah. I don’t want to put you out…” He knocked my shoulder and wiggled his brows. “In case you get a lady friend.”

  “Don’t worry. Looks like it would just be me and you since my skills are a little rusty. I can’t even get a woman to go to dinner with me.”

  “Send her flowers.”

  “People still do that?”

  “You got weak game, brother. Women like flowers.”

  “I don’t have a game at all. Women used to fall into my lap. Now they run from me.”

  “You know what you gotta do? Watch some rom-coms. My ex used to host movie nights every Thursday. That shit is educational.”