Chapter 9
Now—Dante
Dante leans into the final riff of “Livin’ on a Prayer,” matching Ellery chord for chord. The final strum reverberates through the bowl of the amphitheater, and a thrill of electricity runs through the crowd and the band.
Selene bangs her drumsticks together in approval. Dante feels it too. He hasn’t played like this in ages, like he doesn’t know where the next note is and finds it anyway, like plucking stars from the sky. An enticing sensation of anticipation ripples through everyone, the band, the crowd.
The only one who looks displeased is Ellery’s agent, Logan Groff, standing in the wings.
Fuck him. Dante holds the neck of his bass and grins, the smile splitting his face wide. This is worth it all. Worth every moment to see Ellery looking like herself again.
She tosses her blond curls, like the winds have changed and are carrying her back to herself.
His stomach churns but he pushes it aside. Some things are better left forgotten, at least for the moment.
“That’s what we need!” Ellery cries into the microphone, her body loose and flowing. “That song always gets right to me.” The crowd answers her, and Dante joins Selene and Lorraine in applause. “Now that we’re three in, let’s get a little more comfortable.”
There’s a chorus of wolf whistles, and the protective parts of Dante that always respond to Ellery’s safety raise their hackles. He knows she’s given consent to this, to blatant male adoration. It doesn’t mean he likes it.
So instead he watches Ellery, who ignores them with the practiced grace of a woman in the spotlight.
She slips out of her too-high stilettos and groans audibly in relief.
“Guys, I cannot even tell you how good that feels. If I could stand up here and play music for you in my sweatpants and Midwestern accent, I totally would.”
Dante laughs with everyone else. In the wings, Logan Groff’s forehead is a shadow of rage. He’s practically sprouted horns.
Whatever.
“Play “Water Teeth’!” A couple in the front three rows holds aloft an enormous hand-painted sign proclaiming Elvie in rainbow letters. “‘Water Teeth’!”
A trill of worry flitters through him, and he looks to Ellery. She looks softer now, younger, more like the girl he met at the bar a thousand years ago. Knowing someone for so long, seeing them in all their different moods and phases, is shockingly intimate.
He sees the memory of grief cross her face, but she doesn’t break. She perches on the stool, her skirt almost too short. “We will definitely play that tonight,” she says. “But not now. Tonight is special. Tonight is the last night of our tour. And I want to do something different.”
Logan Groff’s throat clearing can practically be heard all the way in Santa Monica.
She ignores him. “A lot of you never knew us when we were the Vendetta. But we were magical then.”
“You still are!” a burly guy in the front row wearing lumberjack-chic calls. “Marry me!”
A titter of hesitant laughter rolls through the crowd.
Ellery shakes her head, smiling. “It doesn’t sit right with me, not giving Selene and Lorraine their due.
” She turns to them, and he can see her swallow the glimmer of tears.
“They’re incredible musicians and unbelievable friends.
I didn’t stand up for them when I should have.
They’ve gone along with everything for the music. Maybe for me.”
Always for you, Dante thinks, but this isn’t about him, and he’s cool with that. Whatever she’s doing, it’s the right thing.
Ellery turns back to the crowd. “Tonight, let’s change that. Selene and Lorraine deserve to shine. Whatever you want to sing, ladies, the stage is yours.”
She gestures widely to her friends, who exchange a glance before smiling. There’s a warmth between them that Dante wishes he had, a nonverbal exchange of understanding.
Selene stands from her drum set, flicking a hair tie off her wrist and pulling her long black hair onto her head in a loose knot. She slides beside Lorraine on the bench and kisses her cheek, soft as a butterfly lighting on a flower.
But Dante doesn’t watch. Ellery moves to stand beside him so they can watch Selene and Lorraine together. All he wants is to be with Ellery.
“Thank you for being here,” she says, her voice soft so as not to catch the mic.
“I’ll always be here for you.” It’s simple, but he means it. He has always meant it. Being away from her was a harsh martyrdom, and he’s done with it.
She places a hand on his arm, the one with the tattoo sleeve, as Selene and Lorraine sing “Shallow,” their voices harmonious and haunting, full of pent-up yearning.
It’s been years since he’s heard them sing, far too long.
They might not have the most commercial voices, but their message is heartfelt and real, and it lasers through the encroaching night.
He feels the heat of Ellery’s fingertips as they trace the words and images of his tattoos.
Does she know they’re all for her? Every time he has missed her, every time they were together.
Words and images entwined on his skin, his tangible memories of her.
“I couldn’t do this without you,” she says.
There is so much he wants to say, but there isn’t time. Why couldn’t Selene and Lorraine have chosen a longer song? He relies on what he always says. “You can do this, El. You can do anything for five minutes.”