Page 89 of Shattered Chords

“How about this?” I was playing with fire here. “I’ll come if you let me bring Ally.”

Frank studied me for a long moment. “Sure.”

“And no fucking confidentiality agreements. That shit is tasteless.”

He roared with laughter and slapped his knee. “Who are you to talk about taste, Dante?”

“Your curse. That’s who I am.”

When Frank and I finally returned to the guests, Camille and Ally were nowhere to be seen. People were streaming out into the back yard. There, a small stage had been erected. A couple of techs were putting the finishing touches to the lights and mics, and things didn’t look quite ready yet, but people had already started to flock over to the very front to get better spots.

Cassy’s brother had ditched his jacket and was walking around with a camera, shirt untucked and sleeves rolled up. It was like he didn’t get the memo that a tux wasn’t required. No one, not even Frank was wearing one.

Speaking of Frank... He was a man of grand gestures. He’d bought his girlfriend a house because the property had sentimental value. It only made sense for him to write her a song every time they had an occasion to celebrate. An engagement seemed like a big deal for him. Especially after I’d soured his views on marriage.

I spotted Carter and Johnny behind the stage, discussing something fervently. My guess was they were playing tonight.

Tightness squeezed my chest.

I realized that I hadn’t thought about it much since the stroke, but I missed us touring together. Booze and drugs aside, we were explosive in front of the crowd. Our chemistry was off the charts. Not many bands had that. Especially not these days.

“Hey, man!” Carter finally saw me as I started my approach. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he said, slapping my shoulder.

“Well, here I am.”

The three of us exchanged embraces.

“You look good,” Johnny noted.

“I work out,” I joked.

“You do look good.” Carter nodded.

My gaze ping-ponged between the two. “Unbelievable.” I scoffed. “What is it with you people wanting to comment on my altered appearance when I can’t play for shit?” Sometimes, I was a mean motherfucker. And sometimes, I liked to make fun of myself. Humility was new to me, but I was willing to give it a shot.

My joke, however, didn’t hit the mark.

Carter and Johnny stared at each other, then back at me. “I’m just fucking with you two,” I said and plastered a smile on my face.

They relaxed and we fell into a conversation about Frank’s latest music endeavors and other rumors. No business or legal talk.

Later, as I was striding through the yard, intent on ignoring most people, I spied Camille’s chocolate dress. She was standing on the other side of the pool, next to Cassy. Izzy had just arrived with her crew and I watched her from afar for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt. Ally was there too, loud and ominous and, unlike her mother, not a bit shy. She made friends easily, which was a plus if you wanted to be in the entertainment industry. Cassy dragged her to the center of the circle and introduced the two girls. They seemed to hit it off and the fact warmed my heart.

Made me proud even.

I was still minding my own business, hiding in the shadows with a glass of water I snatched from the bar in my hand, when Cassy approached.

“How does it feel to be hosting a party for your rock star boyfriend?” I asked, raising my nonalcoholic drink to clink it against hers, which looked like some kind of punch.

“I’m getting used to it,” she said and moved to stand by my side. “Truly, Hannah and Roman did all the work.”

“You didn’t hire anyone?”

“Nah.” She shook her head, her black hair sliding across her inked shoulder. “I’m not that lazy. Besides, it’s just a little less than fifty people. Friends and family.”

“I didn’t see Billy and Janet? Are they here?”

“Probably upstairs, getting ready.”

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