Page 110 of One Last Verse

Do you want to do it?his late-night text read.

Torn between hate and respect for the man in question, I contemplated. Dante and I had quite the history. I knew everything there was to know about his music. Almost two decades of rock ’n’ roll debauchery. The man had written some of the most iconic guitar riffs of the twenty-first century. I could knock out a banging article. The piece had my name written all over it, but my gut told me to take a step back and let Shayne finish what she’d already started. And my gut had never lied to me yet.

I simply couldn’t be impartial anymore. Not after the conversation Dante and I’d had right before he OD’d. This wasn’t my editorial to write. This was someone else’s.

I knew it and Levi knew it. He didn’t try to change my mind when I refused.

The call came after midnight when I was already in bed. My stomach flipped. The number had been programmed into my phone by Dante himself years ago. And I was realizing it only now.

He sounded different. There were occasional long pauses between the words as if he needed to make sure what he was about to say was exactly what he wanted me to hear.

“How did you get my number?” I asked, slightly stunned. I didn’t remember giving it to him. I’d been the one on the receiving end.

“I’ve got powerful friends.”

“Such as?”

“Geez.” There it was again. A stop. “It’s public record.”

“Is everything okay?” I probed.

“Yeah.”

“I saw the press release.”

“It was never my band. It was always Frank’s… We were all just tagging along.”

“Says the man who tried to kick the other man out.”

“It wasn’t like that.” His speech slurred. He paused again. “I’ve had a moment of clarity.”

“What’s going on with you, Dante?”

“I’ll live.”

I didn’t know how to react. There was clearly something wrong with him health wise. He sounded lost and tired, but each question I posed was dodged.

I wasn’t sure why he was calling, and the fact that he was actually calling rendered me speechless. The silence between us deepened with each passing second.

Dante broke it first. “I wanted to thank you personally for not leaving my ass to die.”

A laugh escaped from my chest. “I mean, I do hate you for what you did to Frank, but I’m not going to stand and watch you choke on your vomit just because you’re a selfish asshole.”

“Was it really that bad?”

“No, but you scared the hell out of me.”

Dante’s voice crumbled with lingering anguish. “I think you’re a very kind person, Cassy. I’m glad you were there.”

“You’re welcome.”

We fell back into another long moment of silence. Talking to Dante on the phone was strange. Almost too intimate.

“Did you ever report that punk who pushed you?” he questioned.

“I decided not to. He’s in high school and his parents begged me to reconsider. He erased the footage.”

“Are you sure?”

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