Page 122 of Red Hot Harmony

She nodded.

We eased into the intro shyly and carefully until Ally was certain she could keep up. What I didn’t expect was for Frank to join our two-piece ensemble when we reached the chorus.

He crooned softly, his voice blending with the music, becoming one.

In the corner of my eye, I spied Ally trying to hide her grin as she continued to pick through the chords.

Cassy was quiet, watching and listening.

When the song finally came to an end, she applauded.

So did Camille. Then she added, “Now I know why people pay money to see you two perform.”

“They’re insanely good together, aren’t they?” Cassy grinned.

“Yes, they are.”

I expected this conversation to become awkward. I expected guilt to come. But nothing happened.

There was just intense calm.

“Can we do a Hall Affinity song?” Ally asked, looking at me, then at Frank. “Please?” She folded her hands into a praying gesture.

I wanted to say yes, but it was his decision, so I waited for him.

“Sure,” he said. “You have something in mind?”

“‘Ambivalent?’”

Frank and I exchanged a glance.

Even so many years later, I still didn’t understand how a song born from rage and betrayal could be our number one hit, but I didn’t question the fact anymore. It spoke to people. They connected with either the lyrics or the melody on some deeper level. Who was I to nitpick their preferences?

“Thank you, thank you!” Ally squealed and adjusted her guitar.

My hand trembled when I reached for the strings, the pick slipping from my grasp as I clutched it into a fist, then loosened my fingers and tightened them again.

The fear was different this time.

Physically, I could do it. I knew I could. I’d just played a Buckley song, which wasn’t an easy thing. But for whatever reason, something was making me choke.

To my left, Ally dropped into a crouch and plucked the pick from the carpet to return it to me.

I took the pick, then, confused and angry at myself, I stood up, set the guitar aside, and made my excuses before rushing out of the studio.

I didn’t think anyone had followed. At least, not until I got to the door of Frank’s office, where a set of heavy footsteps caught up with me and a hand grasped my shoulder.

“Hey, man.” Frank forced me to turn around. “You all right?”

I stared at the empty stretch of space behind him, expecting Camille or Cassy to show up any second, but the corridor remained still and quiet. “No. I don’t know…” The words fell from my lips, pathetic and slurred.

Frank moved forward and closed the distance between us, his hand slipping to the nape of my neck. “Are you using again, Dante?” he whispered, studying my face.

“Fuck you, Frankie-boy!” I swatted his arms away and stepped back.

He didn’t react, his expression pained, cold, hot, and concerned all at once.

Righteous jerk.

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