Page 6 of Shattered Chords

Mom?

I was taken aback by the fact that the redhead was actually Ally’s mother. In my mind, mothers were always worn-out bitches. That’s how I remembered mine, anyway. Besides, this woman looked too young to be someone’s parent. But then again, what did I know about parenting? Or family. I hadn’t had any luck in that department.

Yes, I was lonely, but I was free. Free to do whatever the fuck I wanted. And today, I wanted to buy Ally the Les Paul because this guitar was just begging to be hers.

“You’re grooming my child.” The redhead gave me a close-lipped smile, and her eyes drilled into mine. “It’s disgusting.”

My chest tightened. I’d been accused of many things, but never that. “Lady, I assure you, I’m not.”

“Mom, stop it.” Ally grabbed the sleeve of her mother’s shirt and jerked it. “This is Dante from Hall Affinity.”

The woman turned to look at her daughter, and something passed between them as they exchanged glances.

I raised both hands in the air to indicate that I didn’t mean any harm. “Your daughter plays really well. Not everyone her age can sweep pick. Actually, almost nobody can.”

The woman’s features relaxed. “She’s in a band.”

“First show on Friday.” I nodded.

“I invited him,” Ally plugged in.

The red-haired she-devil tilted her head slightly and folded her hands on her chest. “Who are you again?” Her eyes peered at me through a long sweep of thick, dark lashes.

I stared back. I always did when I was confronted. I had no secrets to hide and I sure as hell didn’t want her to think I was trying to hit on her underage daughter.

“Dante.” I offered my hand for a shake without bothering to explain what exactly I was famous for. I didn’t need to, though. Ally did it for me.

“Number one onTime’s list of Best Electric Guitar Players in 2008, 2009, and 2011. Inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2012.”

My shoulders shook from inaudible laughter. “You’ve really done your homework, kiddo.”

She responded with a lopsided scowl.

The redhead cleared her throat, uncrossed her arms, and slid her palm against mine.

“Camille. Nice to meet you.”

The handshake didn’t last long, but her grip was strong enough for me to sense that she would go ballistic if someone mistreated Ally. I dropped my gaze to her other hand and noted the lack of a wedding band. Maybe there was no one else to protect her fifteen-year-old from old dudes like me. For a moment, I wished my mother would have had at least a quarter of the care for her own child that this woman had.

Camille had silky skin, and the short charge of warmth I received from her shot through my arm. There was no awe in her voice—no reservations either. She wasn’t impressed with my looks, achievements, or my philanthropic intentions. Did that bother me? I wasn’t sure. Women were God’s best creation after guitars. I loved them all. I loved them madly. Unfortunately, they’d been put on indefinite hold after the stroke.

Loss of interest is not unusual, the doctor had said.

No shit. When all my brain could think of was either slitting my wrists or doing another line of coke, my dick had to take a back seat. Pleasures of the flesh didn’t matter when your soul was in agony.

This—right now—was the first time since the overdose I’d actually noticed a woman. Really noticed. Everything from the sharp curve of Camille’s neat brows to the small size of her funny sunflower footwear hurt my sight. Unlike dark and moody Ally, she was a lot of bright colors that weren’t supposed to go together well, but they did on her. Even her eyes were the greenest green I’d ever seen, almost unreal.

“I appreciate you taking the time to talk to my daughter, but you can’t buy her a six-thousand-dollar guitar,” Camille said calmly.

“I don’t mind,” I countered.

“It’s an extremely expensive gift.”

Ally produced a few aggressive chords that silenced her mother’s argument. Camille shot her a warning glance, then more music poured from the speakers. A true rock’n’roll rebuttal.

Strangely, their exchange amused me. They were like black and white, total opposites in a sweet, comical kind of way.

“It’s not appropriate.” Camille shook her head when her daughter stopped messing with the strings.

---