"A sabbatical?” Ian gave him a smartass look as he put invisible quotation marks in the air. “Who the fuck are you, man?" His brows pinched as he raised his voice. "You play guitar, asshole. You’re not a college professor. We need to lay down some tracks. Strike while the iron is hot. We don't have time for you to be playing house. Get your head out of your ass, Dash." Ian emphasized his point with a disbelieving shake of his head. A snarl curled his lip as he muttered in a low tone. "You must be losing your fucking mind."
Dash looked back at Skylar; their gazes locked. "Don’t pay attention to him. I’m taking some time with my wife. I can get looked at by a doc and get my shit together as far as my health. A couple of months will be useful for all of us."
Ian cocked his head as he watched the tender display. He stared down Skylar before looking at Dash. "And you're doing this why? Because of that twat?" He slung the words as weapons, intending to wound her. Instead, he ignited Dash's temper, which he’d barely been holding in check.
"Watch your fucking mouth!" Instinctively protective, Dash took a step in front of Sky as if his body could shield her from the sting of hurtful words.
Ian sniggered at the display. He lifted the cigarette to his lips, the end so red hot and glowing that the stub nearly burned his fingers. His next motions were exaggerated and dramatically slow. "Do whatever you want, man. Ruin your fucking career, but I'm not letting you take the band down with you.” He shrugged. “Personally, I don't give a shit, but if the shit hits the fan, I won't do a god damn thing to protect you. I'll throw your backstabbing ass right under the bus.” His face contorted into a sneer as he eyed Skylar. “And you can take this bitch with you.” He choked out the last, bitter words.
Ian thought he’d had the last word, but Dash sprang back. His skin flushed red as the color crawled around his collar. "You are a petty, little man. Most days, you can barely pour yourself out of a god damned bottle or get your dick out of some sleazy whore. Don't talk to me like I'm some little shit, and don’t talk to my wife like she’s one of your tramps."
Ian laughed. Vindictive and arrogant, he closed the distance between them and leaned in close to Dash's face. He launched spittle laced words through clenched teeth. "You haven't figured it out yet, have you, Dash my boy? You guys may have started the band, but, like it or not, I’m the draw. The personality. I’m the fucking reason you have job security. Me and my god damned bottle? I keep us front and center in the media. Those stories sell the papers. It drives up ticket sales. I'm not as dispensable as you think. Guitar players are a dime a dozen." He poked a finger in Dash's chest. "You would do well to remember that."
The atmosphere shifted as fury filled Dash’s eyes. He looked down to where Ian had placed his finger and when he lifted his eyes, his glare was deadly. With barely five minutes until they went on stage, Dash grabbed Ian by the shirt. Though there was barely space between them for a punch to be thrown, he pulled back his arm as his fingers curled into a fist.
“Dash, no!” He heard her, but, before Skylar could stop him, his knuckles made contact with Ian's jaw.
In a flash Skylar jumped in between them, rushing to grab onto his arm before he issued another blow. Their bandmates sprang to their feet, holding Dash back before he could hit Ian again.
Blood dripped from Ian's mouth. He staggered from the strike, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. Everyone around them froze. Thankfully, no one on the other side of the curtain could see what was going on backstage.
As Ian righted himself, he flicked his tongue over his lip to inspect the damage. He winced as it touched the split. From what Dash could see, blood skimmed a light coating over Ian’s front teeth. He dragged a black gaze toward Dash, his expression as cold as death.
"You stupid motherfucker. I'll give you this one, asshole," he said, shaking off the incident. He straightened his spine before issuing a warning. "Touch me again, motherfucker. I'll have your ass arrested."
Dash's retort was equally torrid. The red ring around his neck matched the murder in his eyes. "Try it, asshole. You’ll hit the ground before you dial the last number."
Bystanders stared. The stage crew froze. Disordered Fate was going on any minute and backstage they were a shit show. The singer had a bloody mouth and the guitarist sported scraped and bruising knuckles. For a benefit concert there wasn’t much goodwill in the air.
Dash straightened up as he took some calming breaths. Each band that was playing had thirty minutes. What that meant was lots of people and lots of flurry.
Dash put some distance between Ian and himself. After a few minutes, everyone went back to what they’d been doing before Dash had belted Ian. Hopefully, no one had snapped a picture, but Dash didn't care. He was going to talk to the guys. Some changes had to be made and one of them might be to replace Ian.
The other guys gathered around Dash. With a few friendly slaps on the back, the other members were satisfied he could keep himself in check while they got through the performance. Dash thanked them for jumping in before he turned to Sky.
A weak smile played at her lips, but concern was evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?
Even with all the shit that had just gone down, all she cared about was him. "I'm good, baby." Though her shoulders sagged with relief, it didn't take away the hesitancy in her eyes. Dash pulled her to his side. “I don’t want you to worry. Ian thinks I'm a fool, but I would never make a decision without thinking it through. I've already talked to the other guys. They need a break, not that Ian would notice. He only thinks about himself. As for the rest of us, we all agree that a few months spent brainstorming will be good. They all get it. We hit it real big, real fast. We need to reevaluate where we want to go from here.” He jutted his chin in Ian’s direction. “The only one I hadn't talked to was him."
Worry lines formed in her brow. "But what about a lawsuit? Ian said —"
Dash cut her off. "Fuck, Ian." His tone was as soft as his fingers caressing her cheek. "This isn't Van Halen, and he isn't David Lee Roth." He took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her diamond wedding ring. His lips curled into a smile, as did Skylar's. "If Ian doesn't watch himself, he's going to find himself out of the band. Roth was dispensable. So is he."
Chapter 30
Skyler stood backstage, watching her husband. The crowd went wild when they rushed onto the stage. All the songs they played went off without a hitch. After seeing Ian's reaction, she was glad they’d tried to keep their marriage secret from the public. After a meeting with Vince about her book, she’d flown out for this performance. Although the other guys were more than welcoming, after witnessing tonight's display, she was glad she wouldn't be in Ian's company for some time.
A happy smile filled her lips as they neared the end of the set. The air was thick with energy. If they held true to other performances, an encore would be in order. After that, they were out of there.
Among the thousands of people who filled the arena, her new, wifely status secured her to Dash—no matter what trouble Ian tried to cause. She'd often heard it said that every living thing vibrates with a different energy, and those things that are meant to be together will find a place to peacefully coexist. Even matter at rest has power. If those things were true, it certainly applied to Dash and her. Their love described precisely what happens between two people who are meant to be together. They are, somewhat, matter at rest until they find each other. And when that happens, the connection between them causes a cosmic shift. Something beautiful and wonderful and transforming. The magic between brilliant stars and the darkness of night that makes the contrast between the two so vastly different, surprising, and breathtaking. A perfect balance happens when two things, so completely opposite, complement one another. They continue that way until they are spent. Used up. Put to rest. It's that kind of energy that had led them to each other. That thing from which the cosmos was born.
From the moment Skylar had met Dash, something shifted in the space between them. In their own
worlds, each was busy doing the thing that made them happy. And then something changed. Something in the universe had been waiting for her and Dash to find one another. Everything that was good, from that point, became better. Richer. Love filled in their lives with color and texture, and, ultimately, changed them into what was meant to be.
Skylar's eyes softened as she watched Dash perform. She loved seeing him play. He was in his element, lost in the music, his fingers connecting with the guitar strings, vibrating them just enough to make him one with the music. Though his fingers had calloused, and his neck muscles had grown tight, she knew there was nothing else he’d rather be doing. The same connection she felt spinning words into tales. His softer music cradled her soul. Nothing gave her more satisfaction than listening to him play while she plotted a story and she was looking forward to more of that.
Though they hadn't spent as much time together as they would have liked since their trip to Key West, that moment on the beach when they’d connected as husband and wife had changed them. They had their whole lives ahead of them and were at the top of their games. The book and music charts reflected it.
Dash had said twenty-six was his lucky number, since that was the date of their marriage, and when he had, she’d scoffed. She didn't believe in luck, only hard work and determination. Still, as she stood mesmerized watching her husband, she had to surrender a small amount of logic to whatever events had brought them such good fortune. One of the band’s songs—one that Dash wrote—held the number twenty-six spot on the Billboard chart, while her latest novel sat in the same position on the USA Today best sellers list. Crazy. Maybe there was something to luck after all.
Thunderous applause interrupted her thoughts. She’d been daydreaming, and now everyone was filing backstage. It was brief, just a few short minutes really, but it enough time to get a drink of water and wipe the sweat off their faces. Soon, they’d rush out for an encore. Then she and Dash would take off.
As he approached, she held out an ice-cold bottle of water. He gave her a sweet kiss, his lips causing hers to tingle.
"Thanks, babe." Dash took the bottle from her hand, quickly downing the contents. Tiny droplets escaped his lips and dribbled down his chin.
He used his sleeve as a napkin, evidence of his quenched thirst escaping his throat with an exaggerated ahhh. Skylar pushed his messy hair away from his damp forehead, the beaded line of perspiration curving along his hairline.
"You were wonderful." He beamed a smile at her comment, and she wondered if he could read the worship in her gaze. One morning during coffee, she’d told him as much, and he’d replied by admitting he was equally in awe of her writing. She wasn't even aware he'd read her books.
"Gotta go." He leaned in to give her a quick kiss and give her backside an affectionate pat. With that, he was gone, having jogged back onstage with his bandmates.
Again, the crowd erupted. Sky smiled. As she watched Dash, she wondered how she’d gotten so lucky? Dash was as handsome as he was talented, and he was all hers. His faded blue jeans were ripped at the knees and as tight as breathing would allow. A fan of button-down shirts, he rolled his sleeves midway between wrist and elbow. The tail hung free for ease of movement when he played—he never tucked them into his pants. The rounded hemline skimmed his lower back, coming to rest at the top of his very toned ass. He wore a tee shirt beneath it, which was usually soaked and clinging to his six-pack abs by the end of the night. His black Frye boots hid beneath the bottom of his jeans, which lazily rested against the leather. He was an enigma. How could someone so famous be so genuine and humble?
Her gaze drifted from Dash out to the audience. Their joy was infectious. Some were dancing, some were swaying, just as she had during that first concert. She smiled, leaning her head against one of the tall, black cases. It was a great prop for her, just a short distance away from public view while empty, but soon would house the band's equipment.
This song was her favorite. "Lost and Lonely." It was a song he’d written just before they’d met. The song had a great guitar solo, which was her favorite part. Dash, with a lone guitar, filled the empty space with a haunting melody. The sound of the crowd had quieted to a hum, and she closed her eyes. She savored the sound of Dash's talented fingers seducing the strings.
And then there was nothing.
Chapter 31
Skylar opened her eyes only to see that Dash had stopped playing. Initially, the crowd thought it was a part of the song, but as a hush blanketed the room, all eyes were on the stage. Expressionless, Dash's face was as a blank canvas. Sky, equally bewildered, wondered if this was improvisation. Maybe a new twist on an old song.
She moved slightly, hoping to get a better view. Her eyes locked on Dash, her heart stuttering a beat. He was gone, his gaze completely vacant. The hand that, moments ago, had caressed his custom Paul Reed Smith guitar, had fallen limp to his side. His other lay motionless on the curve of the instrument. It was as if someone had turned a switch from on to off, disconnecting Dash from the power source. If she and the crowd were stunned, his bandmates were equally so. Ian was the first one to approach him.
"Dash. What the fuck?"
She could hear Ian, though his microphone was absent. It now sat atop a mike stand several feet away. Though Ian nudged Dash, he didn't move. Her heart danced a death march, its tune wrapping ghoulish fingers around her throat. The nightmarish memory of Dash and her on the water had gone from a private affair to one played out before thousands. Ian, whose face was shrouded with worry, continued trying to engage him. A pang of pity struck Sky's heart as she watched Ian's expression morph from arrogant to frightened.
Finally, Tommy and Charlie intervened. One of them disconnected Dash's guitar from the amplifier while the other took his arm. Both slowly guided him toward her. The once hushed crowd was now a sea of speculation, murmurs churning up in waves.
"Dash." Ian's expression fell as he walked with the other guys and continued to invoke the name of his friend. As they came near her, Ian shook Dash's arm. "C'mon, man. Talk to me." His tone was desperate.
It was like she was reliving a nightmare. Just like that night on the boat, Dash blindly followed where he was led. Skylar took his hand. He looked from face to face, any note of recognition totally absent. The road crew and some staff formed a circle around him. The next group to perform went by, all of them looking over at the scene before stepping out on stage. Sky was thankful for the diversion, all the while knowing that photos of her husband had already been posted on the internet. What was worse was that this benefit was in London, and the British press was notoriously rabid. Within hours, every corner of the world would be filled with images of Dash, and the public would be waiting to swarm him. Though calm on the outside, her heartbeat in her throat nearly choked her. Somehow, she had to get him out of there.
She looked into his eyes. "Come back to me," she whispered.
Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, she ignored everyone and everything around them. His gaze met hers, and she felt a check in her spirit. Something clicked. Recollection unveiled his eyes as his thoughts registered. It was as if he’d paused for a time and tuned everything out, but now was back.
Dash breathed in a lungful of air, and Skylar swore she felt everyone near him do the same. He then out a sigh of relief, his posture no longer stiff, but relaxed as a smile kissed his lips. Now he was the one who gave her hand a comforting squeeze as recognition completed its residency. His gaze was tender, full of love, and adoration. Skylar choked back a sob as he acknowledged her presence, uttering one word.
"Abigail."
His eyes said that he recognized her, but his lips spoke another name once again. He canted his head, his gaze soft like a puzzled puppy. "What's wrong, my dear?"
"What the actual fuck?" Ian's eyes rounded in fright and disbelief. His brows tugged as he looked at Sky. "Who the hell is Abigail? He said that when he threw me out of the house. At first, I thought that was your name."
Ian
added another layer to the puzzle. If he didn’t know who Abigail was, she had little chance of finding out her identity. She swallowed the hurt, knowing it was imperative to not only get Dash away from the public but away from there as well. There would be rumors flying because of the name faux pas. The press would soon know they were married. They would have a field day not only with his on-stage blackout, but if they got wind of this newest slipup it would add fuel to the fire. She looked around the room at the people near her. Two security men were a short distance away, standing sentry at either side of the stage entrance. Knowing they’d witnessed everything that happened, Sky waved. "Excuse me. Can you help me get him out of here?"
"Where are you going to, mum? There's a mob outside." Skylar was no more familiar with London than she was with half of the cities Dash played.
"I don't know." A helpless feeling weighed in her stomach.
"I can 'elp." One of the men approached her. "Whadda ya need, mum?" The man's cockney accent was thick, but his eyes were full of concern.
"Right now, I need a way to get out of here. I don't think our hotel is safe. Everyone is going to know he's there." She held fast to Dash's hand while everyone else concerned themselves with the music.
"I can do 'at fer ya." She watched as the hulk of a man used his thumb to hit something on his cell and put it up to his ear. He distanced himself from the group as he spoke in a low tone.
"What's wrong?" Her eyes went to Dash. It was as if another layer of recognition had washed over him. He looked from side to side, seemingly surprised. "What's going on?"
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