Page 96 of Final Serenade

“Hi,” I said, straightening. Though he was taller than Frank, his height didn’t intimidate me. At this moment, I was more upset over the fact Taylor Rhinehart was in this building. Out of all the places to be tonight, she’d chosen to see the Hall Affinity show.

She’s a fan of the band,I reminded myself, plastering a smile over my lips.

“How’s Frankie-boy doing?” Dante asked, taking a swallow from his glass.

“How areyoudoing?” I dodged his question.

“I’m ready to rock ’n’ roll, darlin’.” He shot me a dazzling devil-may-care smile. “Are you excited to see the show?”

“Yes, I am.”

This was frustrating. Dante behaved like nothing had happened, as if he wasn’t the one who’d accused me of stealing demos, and the tension between us bothered me. I wasn’t the kind of woman to swallow down offenses.

“I think we need to clear the air,” I began.

He inhaled loudly through his nose. “The air feels pretty clear to me.” A smirk made an appearance. “Now, after the show, this will all be sweat, puke, and weed. Nasty shit.”

“Dante.” My hand rested on his shoulder to get his attention. “You owe me an apology.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me, darlin’?”

“Here’s how it is. I care about Frank and what we have, and I believe it’s safe to say you were wrong. I didn’t steal the demos. I would never do that. So I want you to accept the fact you attacked me for no reason.”

“Are you high, Cassy Evans?” He leaned over and smelled my hair, his nose scrunched up.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or punch some sense into him. I did the latter. I slapped his shoulder. The man was sniffing me in public. In front of Taylor Rhinehart. Crazy wasn’t even the right word for his behavior.

“Ouch!” He backed away. “Did Frankie-boy teach you this kink? Just so you know, not all men like to be dominated.”

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. Dante was impossible to talk to. He turned my every word into a joke or an innuendo. I didn’t mind innuendos when they came from a person I was going to fuck later. I didn’t want them from a person who had a very unhealthy interest in my and his best friend’s sex life. It wasn’t a turn-on. Not in the slightest.

“Oh, hey!” Dante plucked his candy from his mouth. “I heard Frankie-boy is going to pitch in to promote your documentary.” Talk about short attention span.

“He’s financing the production of Isabella’s debut album,” I explained. The documentary was still my and Levi’s undertaking. Frank had brought up money once, but I declined. I wanted this project to stay nonprofit for a number of reasons.

We never got to finish the talk. Javier came up and whisked Dante away to get ready for the set. The lounge continued to buzz, but some of the guests began to leave right after Carter made a quick appearance. A photographer, most likely hired by Jay Brodie PR, took photos of Taylor Rhinehart and other celebs. I knew Carlos would probably kill to be in his place, but these gigs were exclusive. You needed to know people who knew people who could vouch for your talent.

I headed over to the snack bar and joined the end of a short line to buy nachos for Ashton and get a drink for myself, but my insecurities were crawling out of their hiding places.Why was Taylor Rhinehart here?I couldn’t just sit in the booth and wait for the set to kick off while watching my brother destroy his smelly junk food.

Truth be told, Ashton didn’t need me to be there in order for him to enjoy the show. I suspected I was holding him back from being a total goof, so I delivered his nachos and returned to the VIP to join Janet and Billy side stage.

From my spot, the venue looked like a net of shimmer. Awaiting murmurs soared through the crowd. The lights dimmed and I heard a cluster of gasps. My gut twisted in nervous excitement.

Dante stood to my right. Eyes hooded, candy stick between his lips, he rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. His tech strapped a black Stratocaster around his neck. Carter was stretching. He flung his arms in the air several times and grinned at Johnny. Johnny returned the gesture. They were anxious to get this show started. Bruce, the band’s manager, looked all kinds of stressed.

Frank wasn’t present.

Sparse clouds of sparkling fog licked the stage. The lights went off, and darkness swallowed up all twenty thousand people who were gathered on the floor. They were chanting the band’s name. Almost like a prayer. I felt it then. The rush and the agony of anticipation. It was adrenaline pumping inside my veins.

Murmurs took over the backstage area. I turned toward the noise and saw Roman marching through the barrage of VIPs and crew members. Frank was right behind him. Face hard, lips shut, he strode past the guests without looking at them. When he met up with Dante, Carter and Johnny joined in and they formed a group. Or more like a group hug. I watched them pat each other’s backs and talk for a few minutes. Then they exchanged fist bumps. At that moment, whatever history they all had and whatever bad blood had been spilled between them didn’t matter. They were about to make magic and all the problems needed to be swept aside for the duration of their ninety-minute set.

Then I understood it—Frank’s decision to keep playing with Dante. To keep the band going. Thousands of frantic people that waited on the opposite side of the stage were proof he’d made the right choice. Sometimes hard choices bred better results. It just wasn’t an easy road. It wasn’t a road for everyone either.

Frank checked his monitor and shook his arms. He closed his eyes. He was in the zone. Concentrated entirely on the task he was set out to tackle tonight—deliver a heart-stopping performance without overdoing it.

The crowd began to roar. Thousands of feet stomped along to the funky beat of the show intro. Carter went first. He grinned and settled behind his kit. The screams amplified. Johnny marched up next. The audience was relentless.

Dante tossed his candy into the trashcan one of the guys held out for him and walked out on stage. When he finally entered the spotlight, all hell broke loose. He waved and ran through a chord. The crowd responded with a thunderous scream of adoration. My heart rode an intense roller coaster inside my body. It leapt to my throat, then dropped to my feet. I didn’t consider myself a religious person, but I still said a prayer when Frank moved toward the microphone. I saw his hand rise to greet the fans. I saw his smile light up his face. I saw his eyes taking in the crowd. All the stress he’d been carrying around disappeared. He belonged there. He belonged to those people, the people who made him.

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