Page 15 of Final Serenade

“It’s a madhouse outside.” Linda’s voice drifted over the noise.

I spun to face her. She looked ruffled, and her heels clicked as she neared me. “Do we have any word on the setlist?” I asked. So much secrecy revolved around Frankie’s performance that it felt as if we were skydiving without a parachute.

“I’ll text it to you”—Linda pulled out her cell—“for your eyes only.” Her steely glare bored through me like a drill.

“Of course.” I nodded.

“Do you have your passes?” She checked with me before walking off.

I nodded again and returned my attention to the stage. Dante was done. He moved over to the edge and jumped to the floor to greet Linda. They didn’t engage in a long conversation. It was a two-second exchange.

The text message with the setlist came in. Frankie and Dante were doing the last two songs—a Doors cover, and “Ambivalent.” My heart did a little dance.

“Are you coming to my party after the show?” a voice said.

I looked toward the sound and my eyes caught sight of Dante’s lollipop. My chest swelled as he approached. Linda was long gone. The stage crew and the venue employees were concentrating on their chores.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, glancing around to make sure he was indeed talking to me.

“Are you coming to my party?” The candy traveled from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“Ummm…” My mind blanked. I didn’t understand what prompted the question. “I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m inviting you now.” Dante laughed softly and handed me a piece of paper that looked a lot like a playing card. It was shiny, black, and had a silverDon one side. Nothing else. “The car will be waiting out back after the encore.”

“This is random,” I shared my skepticism with him.

“Why is it random?” He shook his head and an earring glinted behind the dark strands of his shoulder length hair. “You work your ass off, darlin’. I never see you having a good time. What kind of life is that?”

His words made it sound as if he’d been watching me. It irked me, but the man had a point. I never drank during gigs and never partied after them. The pressure of pushing the material as fast as possible turned me into a mini robot.

“Dante”—I held the card up—“you know I’m the enemy, right? I’m press.”

“I’m aware. You’ll be off the clock by then.” He was playing a dangerous game.

This was bizarre and my brain struggled to understand why I’d been invited. “Can I think about it?”

“You’ve got”—Dante glanced down at his Rolex—“four hours.” He flashed me a wide, toothy smile and I questioned my own sanity when my knees quivered.

No one is immune to the charms of a man who can play a ten-minute guitar solo. Not even you, Cassy,my common sense said.

You’ve been around testosterone without any physical contact for way too long, missy. It’s time to get laid,my ovaries countered.

Dante wasn’t necessarily the object of my sexual fantasies. That was territory I never explored. I didn’t let my imagination lust after people I worked with. It felt wrong. Instead, my mind was currently playing out a more acceptable rock star party scenario where I drank myself silly and engaged into a hot make-out session with some roadie or someone’s assistant in one of the guest bathrooms. That seemed realistic and easy enough to pull off. That seemed like my kind of fun.

I slipped the card in the back pocket of my pants and returned Dante’s smile.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said, motioning at the bar.

Alcohol during gigs was against my rules, but for some reason, I couldn’t tell Dante no. He was charming in an alpha-male-meets-Hello-Kitty kind of way. He bossed people around without being overbearing.

We walked over to the bar and Dante ordered a margarita for me and rum and coke for himself.

“Have a little fun, Cassy.” He clinked his glass against mine and checked his watch again. “Gotta go. See you later, darlin’.”

Chapter Three

Levi and I watched the show from a small area of the balcony that had been sectioned off specifically for media. The crowd on the floor screamed and pushed against the chain of security in front of the stage when Frankie finally appeared. He wore the same outfit he had on earlier during the interview. His hair shone under a blue spotlight that followed him to the microphone.

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