Page 35 of Shattered Chords

“You need to meet Jesse.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me across the room. “He’s impressed.”

My memories of the “Sugar Sky” music video were vague. It’d been years since I’d heard the song, and if Jesse Catchum were to pass me on the street, I wouldn’t know who he was. Nothing about him stood out. Here in Calabasas, he was just another brick in the wall with his hipster beard, skinny jeans, and tobacco leather boots.

But Dante Martinez…

Dante Martinez was a diamond in the rough, who, no matter how hard he tried to blend in tonight, still managed to get under my skin.

“How about next weekend?” Jules asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“I have an opening next Saturday in the afternoon if the guys want to come by my studio,” Jesse explained.

It appeared that my worst fears were becoming reality faster than I’d expected. Ally was only fifteen, and while I didn’t discount the possibility of her touring and recording one day, Jesse’s invitation truly terrified me. My mind fast forwarded into the not-so-distant future and I didn’t like the picture my imagination was painting.

“I’m sure I can make it.” I forced out a smile and shook off my unease. “Where’s your studio again?”

“Burbank.”

“Great,” Jules said, her voice rising as she clapped. “Then it’s settled. Next Saturday.”

I felt a light tremble beneath my feet, followed by muffled music that streamed in from the hallway. The last band of the night had just taken the stage and some guests began to leave to see the show.”

Jesse motioned at the door. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about these guys.”

We exited the dressing room and merged with the crowd that was heading to the main floor.

Dead on Fire was a three-piece ensemble that blew everyone who’d performed earlier tonight out of the water. The front rows filled as the set progressed. There was a kid with a Nikon and a telephoto lens snapping photos, and a girl in a jean jacket had taken on filming duties. The singer, who also played bass, was a hippie version of a young Justin Timberlake, and the entire band sounded a lot like a child of Maroon 5 and Coldplay. The stage was ablaze and the walls shook, and the audience seemed to love them.

I stayed and watched two full songs before leaving the building.

Outside, nightfall had darkened the sky and the soft pole light shone like glitter across the windshields and roofs of the cars that packed the lot. Small groups of parents lined the sidewalk, their chatter mixing with the rumble that came from the club. The air wasn’t cooler by a lot, but I inhaled as much of it as I could anyway, needing a recharge.

My gaze darted around, searching for Ally. I noted a long line of hungry teenagers snaking down the sidewalk and through the doors of the pizzeria and Harper hiding in the back seat of my car with his phone pressed to his ear.

A tiny fraction of me secretly hoped to see Dante at least once more before the night came to an end. It was the strangest thing, irrational even—to want something that didn’t belong in my life. Not in the slightest. But it was there, nonetheless, and that bothered me. A man hadn’t made me blush and flutter inside in years.

Shaking off the stupid longing that I shouldn’t be having in the first place, I marched over to the 4Runner and wrenched the door open. “What are you doing here alone in the dark?”

“I think I might be wasted,” Harper confessed, breathing out a sigh. “I’m not feeling all that great, sweets.” An expression that could only be described with one word—misery—told me he wasn’t lying.

“You want me to get you an Uber?”

“Nah.” He dropped the phone into his lap, face sour.

“Who are you talking to?” I saw Lucas’s name on the screen.

“Just tying up some loose ends.” Harper shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, although it was. “Asshole still has half of his shit in my condo.”

“Give me that.” I snatched the phone from him and ended the call before sliding the device into my purse.

“You’re mean.” He pouted.

“Friends don’t let friends call their cheating exes.” I matched his grimace.

“But I’m just trying to get him to pick up his crap. It’s taking up space.”

“Not tonight.”

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