Chapter 2 #2
“Um, that’s awesome. You get to live near your family?”
He laughed without quite knowing why. Blessings and curses. Maybe he was some kind of martyr for the vague disapproval of supposed liberals. “Yeah. It’s why I stayed there for school. Mom’s home-cooked casseroles and free laundry. It works.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and hummed in agreement. “So who was your gateway drug?”
“What?”
“Your gateway. To deciding to become a musician.”
His guitar warmed his knee, as though it heard exactly what she said and wanted it to be true. “I haven’t fully decided to be a musician.”
She smacked both palms against the table and her jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me? You can play like that and you don’t want to be a musician?”
How did he tell her how difficult it was to stand up in front of a crowd and play?
Places like this were fine—half the clientele was too young or drunk, and he didn’t know anyone here.
It wasn’t always like this. He passed well enough most of the time.
But to put himself out there? On the line, front and center?
What if someone outed him? No, thank you.
Not worth it. “I’m not really cut out for lead guitar. Bass is more my jam.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are selling yourself way too short, Dante. I’ve never—”
“Everyone, please welcome to the stage a local favorite, Ellery Vaughn!” The emcee’s voice sounded tinny through the microphone.
She picked up her guitar, and his stomach sank. This was over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, not yet. Normally with people he couldn’t wait to get away after five minutes, but with Ellery…five minutes would never be enough.
She nudged him with her guitar, her face open and eyes bright. The natural high of performing. He understood. Even if he fought it, he got the addiction that came with performance.
“Hey, Dante. Come up and play with me.”
His entire body tingled. “What? I can’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s open mic. No one cares. Three-quarters of the people here are plastered, and the others are only looking for a hookup. Come play something with me.”
His guitar throbbed against his leg, practically begging him to say yes. But what sold him was Ellery’s expression. Eager and open and free. Was this what it felt like, to meet someone who would change your life?
“Okay.”
His feet floated to the stage, climbing the steps behind her. The emcee shrugged and moved another mic stand in front of him, clearly used to spontaneous displays and not caring.
Nerves like a thousand mosquitos buzzed around his insides, but if he just looked at Ellery, he would be calm.
“Do you like Florence?” she whispered, swinging her guitar into position.
“Love her.”
Her grin practically exploded off her face and she played the first few strains of “Dog Days are Over.” It took him a second, but then he was there beside her, finding the rhythm, creating the harmony.
When they joined together on the chorus, he felt it.
The magic. The X factor. The joining of their voices and their song reached the rafters of the club and poured out into the streets of North Hollywood and beyond.
It was a song of joy and relief, and when it was over, he worried he would never find it again.
A moment like this could happen only once.
Their guitars held the same note for an extra-long beat, the club so quiet it might have been a tomb.
And then Ellery was in his arms, wrapping herself around him in the best hug he had ever gotten from someone unrelated to him. “You are amazing.” Her breath against his neck was warm and intoxicating. “That was… I can’t even.”
He couldn’t talk, not now, not when she smelled like orange blossoms and saltwater. Certainly not when he when he was riding the wave of the adrenaline rush and the lurking feeling that something like this moment would never happen to him again, which was a shame because it was incredible.
They practically fell off the stage in a heap of excitement, the thrill of electricity making his body boneless and uncoordinated. The crowd was still applauding, and the air in the club felt too thick and hot.
“Let’s go outside.” She took his hand, and the sense of her fingers through his warmed him to his core. It felt like his heart expanded four sizes while they wove through the crowd to a side exit.
She pushed open the door and they were outside in the fresh air. Laughter bubbled up through him as a cool breeze brushed by him, caressing his face. The breeze seemed to waken something inside, some part that usually stayed hidden, but now wanted to play.
The alley was dimly lit, and it felt private, although he knew it wasn’t. He could hear couples making out nearby, and an unhoused person dug through a trash can on the street beyond.
She squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back where it belonged.
On her. Ellery. He didn’t think he had ever smiled so wide.
It would hurt his face if he weren’t so deliriously…
happy? He was happy? He had felt content before, pleased, but never anything like this.
Like his soul had found something to take it to another level of existence.
“That was incredible,” Ellery said. Her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed, clearly still on an adrenaline high from the performance. “It’s never been like that. Everything just clicked.”
“I know.” It wasn’t enough, to describe what had happened. But how did one describe a musical supernova at an open mic night?
“Dante, your voice, it blew me away. And your playing? It was like the guitar was a part of you.”
What was she talking about? She was the one who had carried the song. She was the one who played like the guitar was her ticket to musical nirvana. “I just followed you.”
She shook her head, the grin on her face broad and infectious. She was so pretty. It had snuck up on him, her attractiveness. In that way that at first you might overlook, but once you spent time with her, you realized she was the coolest girl in the entire world.
She was also impossibly close to him, a hair’s breadth away from touching, near enough he could smell the sweet tang of her sweat and the citrus of her shampoo.
Dante warred with himself. This was adrenaline, right?
The rush of the music. She couldn’t possibly be into him.
They needed to talk; he would have to explain…
Dating as himself had so far not worked out for him, and he didn’t want to mess with anything that could happen with Ellery. He was already way too deep into her.
Her gaze searched his face, and his entire body heated. No, this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place, wasn’t—
“Excuse me,” a polished, clipped voice said.
A short, thin man in a suit so well-tailored it looked sewn on stood beside them, hands in his pockets.
Dante stepped away from Ellery, another cool breeze rushing through the alley and chilling him so his muscles felt frozen. Talk about a buzzkill.
The fancy guy didn’t seem to care. “That song was killer.” His accent was affected, like he had seen way too much British cottagecore television. He held out a hand to Ellery, his fingers long and manicured. “I’m Adam Schulz. Can I talk to you about your future?”
Ellery flushed but didn’t shake his hand.
Dante got it, though. This was a guy interested only in wannabe starlets. He backed slowly away. He was superfluous in this conversation, even if he didn’t want to be.
Ellery caught his gaze and held it as Adam kept talking in the background.
“See, I run a house for young people with influence—”
“Dante, wait.” Ellery placed her hand on his arm and he smiled, but even he knew it was full of sorrow and farewell.
“Bye, Ellery. It was nice to meet you.” If only he could put into words everything this night meant to him, everything she meant to him.
Leaving felt like cleaving himself in two.
But it was better to leave now, before he could really get hurt.
He had worked hard to be the man he was, and he couldn’t give that up.
Adam Schulz had already insinuated himself into the space Dante left.
“Dante, please. Can we be friends?”
Friends. Yes. His armor clicked back into place. He would do anything to stay friends with her.
“Sure. Sure, of course.” He kept his gaze on Ellery for two backward steps then turned down the alley toward Moorpark and headed back to his real life.