Page 26 of Shattered Chords

“You look great, Dante. Much better than last time I saw you. Self-pity isn’t you.”

Frustration filled my veins. I remained silent, but my mind spun.

“You two are so fucking stubborn.” Cassy rose to her feet and advanced toward the door but stopped just short of it and said, “Call him in a couple days, after the dust with the press settles.”

“Does he want another apology? Is that what it is?”

“No.” She shook her head and stepped inside. “If it’s any consolation, you did us both a huge favor by fucking Heidi out of his life. Just think about what I said.”

“How is that helping me decide whether I want to move forward or not?” I yelled. “You just fucking cornered me.”

She dodged my question. “You sure you don’t need any help with these boxes?” her voice called from the living room.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

My head started to hurt. Frank and I hadn’t really spoken since the screening. A lot of that had to do with the fact that we’d both been trying to get clean over the summer, and repairing our relationship hadn’t seemed like a priority at the time. The distance had been good for my mental health. Sure, not being able to play music with my former best friend sucked, but I’d gotten used to my solitude. The idea of getting involved in a major lawsuit scared the shit out of me.

Was I ready to face the public? Was I ready to face the very thing I’d been avoiding all my life—a major legal battle over the empire I’d created with Frank?

Was the game worth the candle?

4 Camille

Valley Club, a small restaurant that turned into a live music venue on weekend nights, was the only freestanding building in Cold Canyon Market Square. Tucked between a busy pizzeria and an artisan bakery that was shutting down for the day when we pulled in, the place bled chaos.

A trail of parents and their spawn of various ages streamed from the parking lot toward the club. Their voices clashed with the rattle of gear cases rolling over the pavement.

At the door, a security guard watched the oncoming mayhem with exhausted eyes. I suspected he was more comfortable handling drunk adults. A bunch of screaming kids and antsy teenagers were probably overkill. Eva, one of the managers, whom I knew vaguely through Pauline’s mother, stood in the alley separating the club from the pizzeria. Phone smashed to her ear, she was chewing on a doughnut. Her head bobbed from time to time as the conversation went on.

“Holy guacamole!” Whirling in his seat, Harper scanned the knot of children crowding the entrance. “How many bands are playing? What is this? Where am I?”

I silently laughed at his string of dramatic questions.

“Just four,” Ally said from the back. “The New Arcade, Army of Three, us, and Dead on Fire.”

“Dead on Fire? That just sounds so wrong in this heat.” He shook his head and slicked back his wheat-colored hair with his hand.

“Wait till you see them. These guys are sick live.”

“You’ll love The New Arcade. They’re all middle-graders and they do Presley and Sinatra covers,” I said, catching Ally’s reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d spent over two hours on makeup and hair and another forty minutes on picking the right accessories to match her boots and leather pants. I could barely see her face behind the triple layer of glitter and black eyeliner. The ripped tank top she wore was attempt number five. All the previous versions had had way too many holes for my liking.

In other words, my daughter looked like a homeless teen demon.

“Sinatra covers and screamo. All in one night?” Harper gave me a perplexed look. “What’s the world coming to, girls?” He turned to Ally. “You ready to rock’n’roll, my favorite goddaughter?”

“I’m your only goddaughter.” She grimaced.

I killed the engine and scanned my reflection in the mirror.

“You look fab,” Harper reassured me.

I braced myself at the possibility of leaking mascara due to extreme heat and stepped out of the car. The air was dangerously hot and the sun was merciless. I could literally feel it turning my skin to a crust.

“Bug, are you sure you’re going to be okay in those pants?” I glanced at Ally as we rushed inside.

Guitar case in hand, she squinted at me. “I’m fine, Mom.”

Harper fanned his face. “I could use an ice pack.”

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