Page 18 of Shattered Chords

“Let me see what I can do. If you want, the three of us can have dinner. Tonight or tomorrow. Your call.”

“Sounds good. I’ll check in with her during lunch and tell her you’re coming over.

“Awesome.” Harper clapped his hands. “Now tell me about this rock star guy. I need details. Who is he?”

I leaned forward and typed his name into the Google search bar, then turned my laptop around for him to see.

“Wait a second.” Harper’s eyes narrowed. Intrigued, he dropped his face to the screen. “Dante Martinez bought your daughter a guitar?” Surprise pinched his graceful features.

I nodded.

“TheDante Martinez from Hall Affinity?” His gaze darted between me and my laptop.

I shrugged. “Is there more than one?”

“Silly.” Harper barked out a laugh. “You do know who he is, right?”

“I googled him last night. I’m pretty sure Ally has his poster on her wall.”

Eyes on the screen, Harper listened to the brief recap of my encounter. When I finished, he reached for a trackpad and clicked on one of the links that took him to a photo gallery with pretty incriminating images of the man we were discussing. “Ay, he’s a hot mess. He shouldn’t have done so many drugs.”

“That’s rock’n’roll, right?” I sighed.

What if this was what Ally would become five years from now?

The mere thought gave me chills.

“No heavy-hitter who hasn’t gone through a meat grinder or remained unscathed comes to mind. Fame is brutal in large doses, sweets.” Harper shook his head and returned his attention to me. “How did he look?”

“Not that bad, actually.” If Dante himself hadn’t told me he was an ex-addict, I wouldn’t have guessed. The man cleaned up nicely.

“Rumor has it, he’s done with music for good.”

“I didn’t peg you for a rocker, Harper.” I spun in my chair. “How do you even know these things? I barely have time to check my personal email.”

“He’s been all over social media since last fall.”

“Don’t you find it weird? I mean, why would he want to buy something so expensive for my teenage daughter?”

“Hmmm.” Harper rubbed his chin. “Random act of kindness? Remember a couple of years ago, Bill Murray gave out a bunch of concert tickets at The SteelDrivers show?”

“Yes, I read about it online.” I took a deep breath and checked my phone. It was almost a quarter to ten. We’d wasted too much time on Dante Martinez instead of preparing Dream Bride for a busy day.

“Let’s talk about this some more at lunch,” Harper said on the way out. “Gotta open the shop.”

Motionless, I sat in my chair and debated. Ally was on every possible social media platform that existed and while I’d promised to respect her privacy, I went through her Instagram posts and comments once a month religiously. Of course, she didn’t know about it and, of course, I never questioned her about any suspicious content, not that there was anything out of the ordinary. She mostly uploaded videos of her playing, selfies, and bands she liked. Boys who sometimes appeared in photos were all from her school and I knew their parents.

After yesterday’s fight, my temptation to spy had only grown stronger. I fought it hard, but the alarmist in me won. I pulled up the app on my phone and logged in to my personal Instagram account, which I barely used, because most of my efforts were directed at Dream Bride’s online presence. The trends and algorithms changed too fast. There was no time for anything else except for trying to keep my—or my mother’s, to be exact—business afloat.

The last post on Ally’s wall was a photo of the guitar Dante Martinez had bought her. Slick and shiny. Still in the case like a prized possession. I dropped my gaze to the description and looked at the hashtags.

#newgear

#LesPaul

#newtoy

#sic

---