by N. N. Britt
“At least you see things for what they are. I’m glad. I hope it works out.”
“I hope so too.” I stopped and ran my palm over the massive desk in front of me. “I like her a lot.”
“And the girl? You said she plays?”
“Ally. Her daughter. She’s great. Probably gonna be better than me in a couple of years.”
“Don’t discount yourself.”
We were silent for some time. The hum of the party reminded us that there were several dozen people waiting on the other side of the door.
“I’m fucked up, man,” I whispered, the words coming true and real and desperate. Oh, but there was no undoing what had already been done. And I wept over it in my mind, I wept like a child whose dreams had been shattered.
“No, you’re not.”
“You really think so?”
“I think it’s all in your head.”
“Oh yeah?” My voice dropped even lower, to an ugly rasp. “Of course it’s in my fucking head. Cuz, it’s fucking screwed.” I tapped my forehead. “Tell me you don’t want to go back to a time when you didn't have an ounce of titanium in your body. Tell me you don’t miss your body being unbattered.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Frank said grimly, flopping into his office chair.
“Why is it irrelevant?”
“Because everyone gets older.”
“But I’m not fucking old,” I spat, words wobbling out of my mouth in rapid succession. “I’m not even forty.”
“I never said you were. You keep misunderstanding me.”
“Well, that’s your problem. You keep talking in fucking sudoku.”
He smiled. “At least your sense of humor is still intact.”
“Well, thank fuck for that.” I threw my hands in the air and matched his grin.
We were back to being our impossible selves. “So who’s on a guitar?”
“Story.”
I cringed. The kid who played in Isabella’s band, who couldn’t tell what a B minor was. “Is Izzy going to perform?”
“Yep, we’ll do a couple of songs, the ones we’re working on.”
“So the new record is coming along then?”
“It is.” Frank’s expression morphed into something extremely jubilant and I hated him a little for it, for being so happy, for making new music, for believing in himself.
“That’s good.”
“You should come over sometime when we jam.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“We’d love to have you. Izzy has a soft spot for you.”
“How about this?” I was playing with fire here. “I’ll come if you let me bring Ally.”
Frank studied me for a long moment. “Sure.”
“And no fucking confidentiality agreements. That shit is tasteless.”
He roared with laughter and slapped his knee. “Who are you to talk about taste, Dante?”
“Your curse. That’s who I am.”
When Frank and I finally returned to the guests, Camille and Ally were nowhere to be seen. People were streaming out into the back yard. There, a small stage had been erected. A couple of techs were putting the finishing touches to the lights and mics, and things didn’t look quite ready yet, but people had already started to flock over to the very front to get better spots.
Cassy’s brother had ditched his jacket and was walking around with a camera, shirt untucked and sleeves rolled up. It was like he didn’t get the memo that a tux wasn’t required. No one, not even Frank was wearing one.
Speaking of Frank... He was a man of grand gestures. He’d bought his girlfriend a house because the property had sentimental value. It only made sense for him to write her a song every time they had an occasion to celebrate. An engagement seemed like a big deal for him. Especially after I’d soured his views on marriage.
I spotted Carter and Johnny behind the stage, discussing something fervently. My guess was they were playing tonight.
Tightness squeezed my chest.
I realized that I hadn’t thought about it much since the stroke, but I missed us touring together. Booze and drugs aside, we were explosive in front of the crowd. Our chemistry was off the charts. Not many bands had that. Especially not these days.
“Hey, man!” Carter finally saw me as I started my approach. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he said, slapping my shoulder.
“Well, here I am.”
The three of us exchanged embraces.
“You look good,” Johnny noted.
“I work out,” I joked.
“You do look good.” Carter nodded.
My gaze ping-ponged between the two. “Unbelievable.” I scoffed. “What is it with you people wanting to comment on my altered appearance when I can’t play for shit?” Sometimes, I was a mean motherfucker. And sometimes, I liked to make fun of myself. Humility was new to me, but I was willing to give it a shot.
My joke, however, didn’t hit the mark.
Carter and Johnny stared at each other, then back at me. “I’m just fucking with you two,” I said and plastered a smile on my face.
They relaxed and we fell into a conversation about Frank’s latest music endeavors and other rumors. No business or legal talk.
Later, as I was striding through the yard, intent on ignoring most people, I spied Camille’s chocolate dress. She was standing on the other side of the pool, next to Cassy. Izzy had just arrived with her crew and I watched her from afar for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt. Ally was there too, loud and ominous and, unlike her mother, not a bit shy. She made friends easily, which was a plus if you wanted to be in the entertainment industry. Cassy dragged her to the center of the circle and introduced the two girls. They seemed to hit it off and the fact warmed my heart.
Made me proud even.
I was still minding my own business, hiding in the shadows with a glass of water I snatched from the bar in my hand, when Cassy approached.
“How does it feel to be hosting a party for your rock star boyfriend?” I asked, raising my nonalcoholic drink to clink it against hers, which looked like some kind of punch.
“I’m getting used to it,” she said and moved to stand by my side. “Truly, Hannah and Roman did all the work.”
“You didn’t hire anyone?”
“Nah.” She shook her head, her black hair sliding across her inked shoulder. “I’m not that lazy. Besides, it’s just a little less than fifty people. Friends and family.”
“I didn’t see Billy and Janet? Are they here?”
“Probably upstairs, getting ready.”
I’d always envied Frank for having such cool adoptive parents. Sometimes, I’d wished I could be his real brother, just to spend more time with the couple.
“So...” Cassy drawled, plucking an invisible piece of lint from her bright red cocktail dress. “I chatted with Camille a little. You’re Ally’s tutor?”
“I am.”
“She seems like a great kid.”
“She’s very talented. I want her to have opportunities,” I stated.
“And her mother?”
“What about her mother?” I shifted a little to face Cassy. The colored lights sprinkled all over the yard highlighted her bold, eye-catching features. She wore a lot of dark eyeshadow and pale lip gloss. Her dress streamed down her legs in seductive waves. Frank was a lucky guy. He deserved to be happy, especially with a woman like Cassy, who was head over heels for him and ready to go through hell should he ask.
“Are you two dating?” she questioned. “You and Camille.”
I stared at my drink for a second, then back at the woman we were discussing, my heart giving a kick. “Maybe.”
“I see.”
“She’s different.” My voice dropped to a near whisper. “I enjoy spending time with her.”
“I’m glad you have someone, Dante.”
“Are you now?”
“I am.”
“Well, me too, short stuff, me too.” I examined her sti
lettos peeking out from underneath the hem of her dress. “Yep, still short stuff. Even in those six-inch stripper shoes.”
“Oh, you know how to charm a woman, Dante.” She tossed her head back and laughed.
“Looks like I’ve been spotted.” I jerked my chin toward Izzy, who was now wheeling her chair to my hiding spot, eyes bright and full of mischief, staring right at me.
“Here you are.” She came to a stop in front of me. “Where you been, dude?”
“Around.” I dipped to give her a hug. “You by yourself or is your mom here?”
“She’s around here too, I guess.” She shrugged and gestured at no one in particular behind her back, then punched my arm with her fist. “You should come over and jam with us. Frank and I are working on some cool stuff and could use a professional guitarist.”
“What about Story?” I glanced at the stage, where the kid was now tuning his guitar.
“Story is Story. You’re Dante Martinez.”
“You should hear Ally play.”
“I’ve met her. She’s cool.”
“That she is,” I agreed, catching sight of Camille in the crowd. She seemed at ease around some of Cassy’s friends and people who didn’t have celebrity status. Money and fame intimidated her. It wasn’t hard to tell.
A couple of minutes later, Izzy was swooped away by Frank to discuss the upcoming performance.
I did a mandatory trip around the pool area, shook hands and exchanged a few sentences with some of the guests, and then made my way to the quieter corner of the yard, where Camille was standing. She held a plate loaded with an assortment of bite-sized snacks.
“I don’t know why the food needs to be served on toothpicks at these things,” I said, plucking one of the pieces from the top of the stack. Upon closer inspection, I came to the conclusion that it was a marinated mushroom and, therefore, was acceptable to eat.
“It’s really good.” She nodded. “But it’s all so…” Her brow furrowed. “Insanely small.”
“We can ask Hannah to make you a proper plate,” I offered, knowing that Frank wouldn’t be upset if I borrowed his housekeeper for a minute to ensure my date was fed. Hannah was a very motherly woman, who took care of everyone in this house whether they lived here or stopped by for a meeting.
Camille shook her head. “No, this is fine. I don’t want to eat too much in this dress.”
“You didn’t do an Ally, did you? This is the correct size, right?” I couldn’t help myself. My hand reached for her waist and I rested my palm right above her hip bone.
“No, I’m not crazy enough to wear something that might rip apart if I take a breath.” She smiled that cute one-sided, imperfect smile I loved so much, looking up at me through her lashes, and something inside my chest lurched.
“I don’t mind crazy.” I lowered my voice, and my skin buzzed where it touched her dress. I could feel her euphoric warmth through the soft fabric.
“I’ll leave that to you,” she murmured. “Being crazy.”
Something clicked in the fresh air between us. I realized how close we were and how I could smell her scent, how I could see the dark flecks dotting the green of her irises and the stray wisps of red hair streaming around her face.
Somewhere below, the ocean groaned, spitting foaming waters, slamming them against the rock formations. Living in a place this secluded was very much like Frank. His privacy was one thing he protected fiercely. I hadn’t understood it at first, but I did now.
“Are you cold?” I asked Camille, gliding my palm up the curve of her spine. My fingers reached the portion of her back that wasn’t covered, right between her shoulder blades, and I felt her shiver from my touch.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you having a good time?”
“I’m still getting to know everyone.”
“It’s great practice.”
“What do you mean?” Millions of questions flashed in her eyes.
I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth, unsure whether this was the right place to talk about my public life and everything that it entailed, including bad press.
Truth was, we’d been stalling for weeks now and I couldn’t take it anymore. Except for that one very erotic moment in my pool house, I didn’t dare touch her the way I wanted just yet. Not when I was at her place, not with her fifteen-year-old daughter around. But I was burning up from the inside like a pot with all the water boiled out.
The wait was driving me insane. Granted, this past month had been really busy for Camille at her store, so I hadn’t insisted on her giving me more time, but things had changed between us. Even if we hadn’t taken it to the next level physically.
All I knew was that I was about to get back on that roller coaster that was my rich and famous and miserable existence and I didn’t want to do it without her.
I simply couldn’t.
“Dante?” she called my name, dragging me out of my spiraling thoughts. Instantly, I was back at the party, people around us laughing and enjoying themselves.
“Things are going to be a bit different for me in a few weeks,” I started quietly, my hands still on her back. “I’m going to be joining the countersuit Frank is filing against the label.”
“Oh.” There was a soft gasp, her lips parting a little, her eyes never leaving mine. “What does that mean?”
“It means there’ll be a lot of stuff in the press. About me. My publicist suggests I don’t sit this out and that I go on the offensive. We’ll probably start doing some exclusives. She’s already working on some appearances. Events.”
“Paparazzi,” Camille supplied.
“Exactly. People stalking me, taking photos of me doing random shit like grocery shopping or hiking.”
“You do your own grocery shopping?”
“No, that’s just an example.” I moved my hand to her neck and touched her hair.
“Okay.” She tilted her head, almost if she was inviting me to explore more of her, and continued to look at me, waiting.
“Reporters will probably connect the dots about Ally and you.”
“So you’re saying that we might get some unwanted press attention.”
“Yes, it’s a possibility, especially with the lawsuit being a pretty big deal.”
There was a long pause. On the stage, Cassy’s brother tapped the head of the microphone and said, “Check, check, check.” He grinned to himself. “Raise your hand if you can hear me, folks.”
Slight feedback came from the speakers.
Almost the entire party followed his instructions, their hands jerking into the air.
I didn’t. I continued to watch the kid from the corner of my eye, but my attention was mostly on Camille.
“It’ll get...weird,” I tried to explain the lack of privacy using words that wouldn’t terrify her, but my stomach was suddenly twisted and sick with nerves.
“What does that mean? For us?” she asked simply.
“That I’m going to do everything in my power to shield you and Ally from this shitstorm,” I replied, pressing my palm to the side of her neck.
Then my entire arm and then the rest of my body came to life. I waited for her to say something, to put the brakes on it, to contradict me, to ask for some time alone, but none of that happened. We just stood there, in the shadows, surrounded by the drone of the party and the rumble of the ocean, and stared at each other.
Frank’s voice, amplified by the microphone, echoed through the yard and I turned to glance at the stage, where he’d taken his place right in the middle. He wore a pair of black pants and a black shirt, the dark colors offsetting his tan, his sandy blond shoulder-length hair, his bright blue eyes.
Fucker was good-looking and he knew it. He’d used all that he’d been given to gain us millions of fans.
I never minded. I’d only cared about my guitar, first and foremost. The need to dress well and have my own style was a necessary evil for the greater good of the band and had come a little later. Eventually, I�
��d gotten so used to it that I’d forgotten how to be a regular guy.
I was learning now.
Frank cleared his throat and turned around to check on Carter, who emerged from behind to the kit. He was the youngest one and a real menace on drums. But the main reason we’d picked him out of hundreds of guys who auditioned to replace Quin was his nonconfrontational personality. He didn’t add drama to our already dramatic outfit.
Johnny stepped on stage next, and as always, he was calm and collected. Story, the kid from Izzy’s band, was the last to show up. He seemed uneasy in the company of adults and I couldn’t help but smile at that. Then I thought about Ally and how comfortable she’d been around Malik during the barbeque at my place.
“First of all, thank you all for coming,” Frank started.
Cheers rose from the small crowd.
He surveyed the back yard, his gaze sweeping over the guests and pausing on me for a second. A quiet understanding passed between us. We weren’t exactly on the mend. Our friendship was still a raw wound, but we were a united front again, going against our biggest enemy—the label that had turned us into superstars.
“I’ll be right back,” Camille whispered as Frank continued his speech.
She walked over to a table sitting near the pool to leave her plate, then returned to stand next to me.
“Cassy, doll, come here,” he urged the woman he was about to ask to marry him to get on stage, his hand outstretched to her.
A gentle murmur streamed through the air as she took a spot by his side, all flushed and embarrassed. I had to give it to them. They were good together. She was a furious slip of a thing and he was a brooding type of a guy with a heart of gold.
“I prepared a speech,” Frank said, the microphone shaking in his palm. “And you look so beautiful tonight that I think I may have forgotten it.”
The crowd burst with laughter.
Fucker was nervous, which, honestly, surprised me. He could easily entertain twenty thousand people, but in front of Cassy, he was as insecure as a prepubescent teenager who didn't know how to talk to a girl.