Chapter 8
EIGHT
Dom managed to get his suitcase in his room and his violin case safely stowed away on its shelf before Lincoln sauntered in and flopped down on Dom’s bed.
“Okay, spill,” Lincoln said.
“Spill what?” Dom hefted his suitcase onto the bed next to Lincoln and unzipped it. He had plenty of laundry to do and no real energy to deal with his best friend. He needed a nap, too.
“You don’t run off to home base unless something’s up, and you’ve been different since Thursday. Is it that gig you wouldn’t tell me about?”
Dom smiled at a pile of balled-up underwear. He didn’t want to share Trey but he could tell Lincoln about the other stuff. “Yeah.” He gave up sorting laundry and sat next to Lincoln. “I went to Off Beat, actually. They had an open-mike night. I played onstage.”
Lincoln’s blue eyes went wide. “You played your violin?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck, Dom, that’s huge.” Lincoln grabbed his face and planted a big, wet kiss on his forehead. “I am so proud of you.”
“Me too. It was scary at first, and I barfed in the john once waiting to go on, but the second I started playing? It was everything I remembered. Everything good, at least.”
“That’s excellent. I mean it. You always were mega-talented on that thing.”
“It was important to finally do it again, you know? It’s been six years. Too fucking long.”
“Nah, too long would have been waiting one more day. You had to do it when you were ready.”
Dom gave in to the need to hug Lincoln, tugging his best friend into his arms. Lincoln knew every single thing about Dom.
He’d been there for the best, and he’d been through the worst, and some things they didn’t have to say because they both knew.
He desperately wanted to tell Lincoln about Trey, but Lincoln might not understand.
Dom didn’t want to have to choose between them.
Lincoln kissed his cheek, then pulled away. “So how are things on the home front?”
“Good. Mom’s still in denial about Roxy going to college in Florida. Roxy wants to rent a car and drive herself down, and Mom about had a fit at the idea.”
“Hah. I bet.”
“I volunteered to do the road trip with her, and I think Mom’s considering that one.”
“A road trip to Florida with your sister? You are a masochist.”
“Roxy’s not that bad.”
Lincoln had lived through Roxy’s attitude-adjustment period, and some of it hadn’t been pretty. She’d even tried seducing Lincoln—to hilariously poor results—because she didn’t believe that such “an epically blond hottie” could be gay.
“You didn’t let those Fading Daze guys get to you, did you?” Lincoln asked.
“What?” He couldn’t possibly know about—wait. Friday in the green room. Trey had said some hurtful things, but he’d been angry. Betrayed. “Nah. They had a right to be bitchy. Doesn’t matter.”
“Nope. Tyson is ten times better than Reid ever was on the drums, and we’re going to kick ass at Unbound.”
“Still can’t believe we got in.”
“Hey!”
Dom knuckled his shoulder. “No, I mean that another band dropped out and we moved up to the shortlist.”
“It was meant to be, my friend. God finally decided he’d put us through enough bullshit, and it’s now our time to shine.”
“Cosign.”
Lincoln deserved his big break and then some.
He’d been raised as privileged as Dom, with loving parents and money.
His parents had encouraged his musical talents, even though they frequently clashed on what he should play.
He and Dom had met in a summer music camp before Dom’s junior and Lincoln’s senior year of high school.
It was the summer they both finally embraced being gay.
Dom had great memories of awkward fumblings in bathroom stalls and stolen moments in the practice rooms.
And then Lincoln went home and came out to his folks.
No one saw the results of that confrontation coming.
After a hefty argument that included demands for Lincoln to deny it or else, Lincoln’s father had pushed him down the stairs.
The fall broke his collarbone and gave him a mild concussion.
That was the last time he saw his father.
His mother showed up at the hospital with a suitcase of his things and said don’t come home. He hadn’t.
He’d recovered with Dom’s family, and then he went to live with a cousin in Philadelphia, because he didn’t want charity. Lincoln got a job and his GED. Even though Lincoln never saw himself as a victim, he’d been through hell and come out of it strong, confident, and ready to take on all comers.
They’d both been knocked down and come up swinging.
“So you hear anything else about Thursday night?” Dom asked.
“Should get a final call this afternoon. Looks like we’ll get it, though. The club loved the demo I sent.”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to overbook us before the regional competition. We need time to practice as a group. Really refine our set.”
“Agreed.”
XYZ needed to be spot-on at Unbound. Dom had researched their competition in the indie rock category, and they were one of only three bands that didn’t have any completely original albums.
“We practicing today?” Dom asked.
“Benji and Tyson are both free. I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, so I didn’t set anything up.”
Dom was still tired from so many late nights in a row, but they needed every practice hour they could squeeze in. “I’m all for it.”
“I’ll call everyone. Seven okay? It’ll give Tyson time to get up here.”
Tyson lived about forty minutes south of Philly, in a little Delaware town that Dom had never heard of, so he had the farthest to travel for practice.
“Sure,” Dom replied.
Benji still lived at home with his folks, which came with the added benefit of a garage they could use for practice. They’d added some soundproofing foam last summer, mostly for the neighbors, plus a space heater and a few box fans for extreme weather.
Dom put his stuff away while Lincoln made the calls. He confirmed practice at seven. “We’ll even have an audience,” Lincoln added. “Benji’s boyfriend is back in the city for a few weeks.”
“That’s cool.” He’d only met Joshua Lansing a few times, because he traveled so much doing on-site IT for a national bank.
It paid well, according to Benji—well enough that they could have afforded their own place together, but Benji didn’t like being alone for weeks at a time.
So they both lived with their folks and spent time together when they could.
“Yeah. Benji hopes that Joshua will be local long enough to see us at Unbound.”
“It would be nice to have someone else there to cheer us on.” Dom’s parents couldn’t get the time off for a three-day trip.
If Linc was straight, his parents would have made every effort to go, but fuck them anyway.
Tyson didn’t talk about his personal life much, so Dom had no idea about his people.
Having Joshua along would be awesome.
“Are you nervous?”
Dom turned away from his dresser. Lincoln was frowning, arms crossed, something like tension buzzing all around him. “You know me, Linc, I get nervous the day of a performance. You look like you’re going to flip out, though.”
“It’s such a huge chance for us, Dom. Huge. I mean, we almost didn’t even get in because Reid was so-so, and now that we’ve got Tyson and a spot, I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up somehow.”
“Never. You’re the glue that has kept this band together for almost four years. People have come and gone, yeah, but you and me? We’re unstoppable. The four of us together? We’re solid, and we’re going to kick ass at Unbound. Period.”
He straightened, confidence returning to his posture and smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Even a cocky bitch like you needs a boost once in a while.”
“Yeah, and you more than anyone knows the cocky bitch is an act.”
Dom hauled his friend into a hug, as much for Lincoln as for himself. Lincoln was his best friend for reasons neither of them needed to explain. They fit, end of story.
“All right, enough of this touchy-feely shit.” Lincoln pulled back and squared his shoulders. “What do you want for dinner? Takeout or delivery?”
“Delivery, unless you’re going to get it.”
“Delivery it is.”
He left to retrieve menus, and Dom finished unpacking. Maybe he could get a power nap in before practice.
Dom spent more time than was probably healthy staying in contact with Trey for the next four days.
A lot of texting, a few phone calls, and one more laptop date that led to another jam session.
Trey had figured out how to use a splitter so his real keyboard, laptop, and headphones all synched up, and it made his playing a lot smoother.
Despite the whole thing being a huge secret, Dom was stupidly happy.
On Thursday night, Benji and Lincoln headed south early to hit up some event they saw advertised.
Dom left later so he could swing by and pick up Tyson when he got off work.
He drove Benji’s two-ton Econoline van—a beast to drive, but it held their amps, guitars, and keyboard, and it had room for Tyson’s drums. The club they were playing didn’t have in-house drums, and Tyson preferred his own anyway.
Dom had never been to Tyson’s house before, but so far his phone’s GPS was doing a decent job getting him to the right small town.
Not that Delaware had many towns that would be considered big. Next to Philly, even Wilmington was barely a city.
Tyson lived off the state’s main north-south highway.
The house was pretty middle-of-nowhere, down a break-in-the-woods driveway that was marked by a red reflector.
The dirt path went back a ways, with various trailers set off it.
Dom pulled up alongside the mailbox marked “5b” and shut off the engine.
His phone said he’d made it to his destination.
The front door of the yellow single-wide trailer opened and ejected a smiling Tyson. The guy was good-looking, especially when he turned on the charm, but he didn’t turn Dom’s crank even a little.
Trey turned it like whoa.
Dom climbed out of the van. “Hey, dude.”