Chapter 3 #3
He was still holding the photo as they both stared at it.
She glanced up at him and saw the same bit of regret in his eyes that she felt.
Although she held a mountain of resentment toward him, it was mostly because he never took her side against Zach and Sid.
He never stood up for her. Maybe he was just trying to stay out of the heated exchanges, but it just made him guilty by default .
“Too bad things couldn’t have turned out differently,” Dillon said.
“You’re right,” she agreed, full of sincerity. “I wish the four of us could have acted like adults for five minutes and talk out our differences. But, sometimes, there’s no reasonable way to respond to some people.”
He grunted in agreement. “I hear ya.”
They both knew they were referring to Sid, who was, by far, the most self-centered person on planet earth.
After signing the photo and handing it back to its owner, fans began calling Lizzy and Dillon, waving to get their attention and holding up their phones for a photo of the two of them together.
Posing together wasn’t something any of them ever did anymore, except for professional photo shoots, so the request felt uncomfortable.
“What do ya say?” Dillon asked, pleading with his big brown eyes. “Can we pretend the last ten years or so didn’t happen and take a photo together? For the fans?”
The brick wall surrounding her heart crumbled away, longing for what could have been, and she gave him a small smile. “Sure. If you can pretend you don’t hate me for two minutes, I can do the same.”
He shook his head. “I don’t hate you. And you don’t hate me either. You’re just angry. For the right reasons, but at the wrong person. Just because I didn’t stand with you doesn’t mean I’m against you.”
“Yes. It does.”
“No. It doesn’t. Look. I don’t want to argue. Maybe Sid and Zach don’t care how we end things. But I do when it comes to me and you. Last night meant something to me.”
“Dillon . . .” She wasn’t having this conversation, especially outside in front of a line of fans.
“OK. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.
Fine. Let’s just put everything aside for once and enjoy this moment.
We’ll never have it again. This is it, Lizzy.
” He waved his hand in front of the crowd.
“The last time we’ll walk the line as bandmates.
Let’s remember something good about the band. ”
She nodded, a rock now lodged in her throat.
It was stupid to get sentimental about the demise of Blind Fury because everyone wanted it to end.
They made some great music, though. No one could deny that.
It just became impossible to work together any longer.
It’s a good thing they had a huge backlist of hits that would, hopefully, continue to generate royalties for a long time to come.
Dillon placed his arm around her shoulder, and her gaze shot to him in surprise.
“For the photo,” he explained.
There was a time when all of them posed with their arms over the other’s shoulders, but she couldn’t remember when the last time that had happened. Even during PR photoshoots, they all stood a foot apart. She decided she could make the exception today and slid her arm across Dillon’s back.
His hand immediately tightened on her shoulder, pulling her closer. The tingle that ran down her spine stirred up images of last night, and her neck flushed red hot. Although she still regretted it, she couldn’t deny it was a hell of a sendoff.
“That’s it,” Dillon said. “Pretend you like me.”
She realized she had a huge grin on her face while she was revisiting last night’s foray, and she let out an embarrassed laugh.
He squeezed her in a side hug that only lasted a few seconds. “This is nice. Let’s put the bullshit behind us once and for all.”
She let out a deep breath and nodded, simply because she was tired of fighting.
They stayed outside for a long time signing autographs and talking to fans, before they walked into the venue in silence, both feeling the gravity of tonight’s finale.
When they made it backstage to the main lounge, Sid and Zach were arguing. She exchanged a frustrated glance with Dillon. They both shook their heads, but neither were surprised.
“Can’t you two get along for five minutes?” Dillon barked at them.
“We have one night left together and then we can all go our separate ways,” Lizzy added. “Doesn’t that make you feel a little bit remorseful about what we’re losing? Don’t you have any sentiment toward the band at all?”
“This band was over a long time ago.” Zach glared at Sid. “Once one band member stifles the other’s creativity, there’s no working together.”
“Get over yourself. I didn’t stifle your creativity,” Sid denied, vehemently. He was as self-righteous as ever, and not the least bit sorry about it. “I didn’t like your guitar solo and vetoed it.”
“Who the fuck are you to veto my guitar arrangement? You’re just a fuckin’ singer. You don’t even know how to play an instrument. I was voted one of the top 10 guitar players in the world. Were you voted one of the top 10 singers?” Zach shook his head. “Not even close.”
Sid replied with a bored roll of his eyes.
As Lizzy listened to Zach finally have his say, she realized he made some valid points.
Sid was the reason everyone was frustrated.
He thought it was his band just because he was the lead singer and predominant songwriter.
And Walter, their manager, constantly pacified him.
Sid wrote some great songs, but he was a conceited asshole.
Dillon was next to her listening to Zach verbally assault Sid with years of pent-up grievances.
She thought Dillon was going to join in with his own gripes, but she realized he was enjoying the show.
She wished she could find amusement in the fiasco in front of her, like Dillon, but it just made her sad.
The little time they had left together must have triggered some long-lost memories, because she wasn’t angry anymore.
Well, part of her was still angry, but nostalgia was her most prevalent emotion right now.
Instead of focusing on the present-day clashing of personalities, she reminisced about the early days when they were all enamored with the idea of making it big.
They had supported one another and congratulated each other on individual achievements and accreditations back then.
Sid was the youngest, barely 20 when Blind Fury embarked on its journey to fame.
He had been wide-eyed and eager with an air of confidence and a voice that shook the walls with clarity and power.
He commanded the stage from day one, and when he started strutting around the stage, you couldn’t look away.
Zach had the most talent, and everyone recognized it right away.
There was a natural ease in the way he played the guitar, as if he and his instrument were one and the same.
Like they had a longstanding relationship that went back to another lifetime.
Sadly, that’s what started the tension in the band because it made Sid jealous.
Lizzy’s thoughts shifted to Dillon. A gifted drummer, he played with pure heart.
He put together beats that made your body move and your blood pulse.
They’d hit it off really well in the beginning and wrote a lot of music together.
But that didn’t last long. For the last few years, they all wrote bits and pieces separately because they couldn’t be in the same room without it turning into World War III.
She always expected the songs to sound disjointed and rough once they were done, but they somehow always came together and kicked ass.
She watched Dillon watch Sid and Zach as they argued.
His chest broadened as he took a deep breath.
His dark, wavy hair fell over his shoulders and landed just above his elbow.
His jeans, ripped at the knee, hung low on his hips and afforded her a tiny peek of skin.
The vision of his naked body lying across the bed this morning suddenly popped into her head, and she sucked in a deep breath.
Luckily, Sid and Zach’s voices grew louder and drew her thoughts away from Dillon’s naked body, because she didn’t know what the hell was going on in her head right now.
“We’re a fuckin’ band,” Zach spat at Sid. “We’re supposed to collaborate. You were always too damn jealous to consider anything anyone else had to say. You always shot down everything any of us suggested. You had the record label in your back pocket and used it to manipulate us.”
Sid wasn’t flustered at all. He answered calmly with a self-righteous sneer. “That’s because no one ever offered anything that was worth considering.”
The remark infuriated Lizzy because she was included in that statement.
She was a talented singer and songwriter, but Sid made it clear early on that he had no interest in hearing any of her ideas or suggestions.
He was possessive over his role as lead singer—threatened was more like it—and he had scoffed at her when she said she wanted to take a stab at singing one of Blind Fury’s hit songs.
She never stopped writing lyrics, but eventually stopped pursuing the idea of presenting them to the band.
Sid had oppressed her for long enough, and she was done glossing over the biggest issue at hand.
But, instead of joining in the argument and being forthright, she decided to be nice.
“Sid, I wrote some really good songs,” she said, calmly, without attitude.
“You could have listened to some of them. Tonight’s our last show.
How about you let me sing one song? It’ll be something the fans won’t expect and something they’ll remember. It’ll be great. I promise.”
Sid snorted at her. “Chicks don’t sing heavy metal. I’m the lead singer. You play the bass. We don’t interchange our roles in the band. If you had accepted your place, it would have been a lot easier for all of us.”
“My place?” Her temper burned red hot, and her heartrate skyrocketed. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I’m a damn good singer. You’d know that if you ever gave me a chance.”
“Are you still on this kick about singing?” Zach complained. “Give it a rest already, Lizzy. He’s never going to let you anywhere near a microphone.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stay out of it. I was talking to Sid.”
“You would have made a fool of yourself,” Sid told Lizzy.
“I wasn’t going to ruin our reputation by indulging you with your little fantasy.
And I’m certainly not going to let you sabotage our last show.
Stick to what you know.” He looked her up and down.
“Wear your tight little outfits and shake your ass. Leave the singing to a professional.”
Lizzy’s nostrils flared with seething anger like she never felt before, and she clenched her jaw in an attempt to remain calm. “You son of a bitch.”
Dillon surprised her by stepping into Sid’s personal space and pointed a menacing finger dangerously close to Sid’s face. “Show some fuckin’ respect, asshole.”
Sid took a step back but dismissed Dillon with a roll of his eyes and answered with indifference. “Sex sells. I know what the audience wants. I led this band to the top. You three should have been thanking me instead of complaining all the time. You’re a bunch of ungrateful bastards.”
They all retaliated at the same time, shouting different things at Sid, but it was Dillon’s voice that overshadowed everyone else’s.
“Fuck you! I’m sick of your pretentious attitude!
You’re not better than us! There’s no reason for us to take your bullshit anymore!
This is it! Our last show! After tonight, we don’t have to see each other ever again! So, shut the fuck up!”
Lizzy had never seen Dillon so irate, and she wondered if it was Sid’s sexist remark about her that riled him up so quickly.
It didn’t matter. It would all be over soon, and she never had to see Sid again or listen to his egotistical bullshit.
She was done. Done begging to sing one of Blind Fury’s songs.
Done trying to be heard. Done with arguing.
Let these guys hash it out among themselves. She was going to her dressing room.