by Ann,Brooklyn
With a guilty frown, Shayna closed Emma’s email. She hadn’t exactly been honest with Dante about how far her liking to write went. But she didn’t dare tell him. Her mother’s, husband’s, and even her family doctor’s scorn had stung. If Dante mocked her for being the ultimate cliché, a housewife who wrote romance novels, she’d be mortified.
Okay, that wasn’t the complete truth. She also didn’t know if she was a writer anymore. Emma wanted a pitch? Shayna had nothing. Her well of creativity had completely dried up.
Instead of opening a Word program like a good writer, Shayna clicked off her email and Googled Dante Deity, unable to help her rampant curiosity. A blinding multitude of articles for her rock-star savior, interviews, and music videos popped up, and for the next few hours she studied him, growing more fascinated by the minute.
No wonder his voice was so familiar. His first band had been called Hurricane, and when the band broke up he joined Holy Wars. She’d listened to them constantly back in high school. About ten years ago, Dante started his solo career as simply Deity.
Shayna watched some music videos she found and was blown away by the power of his voice—and by how many of his songs she recognized. Dante wasn’t just famous. He was an icon. But it was the interviews that really caught her fascination. She didn’t know if it was his politeness and intense honesty with the interviewers, the cute way he fidgeted in his seat as if he was shy, or the appearance of that damn smile. Even on a computer screen, he made her belly flutter. And his performances held so much raw power that her pulse sped just watching him. She found herself wishing he performed topless like many other rock stars, wondering what those muscles she’d felt beneath his leather looked like.
She also read that he had a reputation for being an overbearing perfectionist, and could be hard to work with, as he was something of a dictator. A dry laugh escaped her lips. “At least it’s not personal,” she muttered.
Then Shayna saw something that made her go cold.
ROCKER DEITY AND COLLETTE DIVORCE SCANDAL.
Dante had been married? And not just married to anyone. Collette was a pop megastar. Shawn even listened to her once in a while, commenting on her “smoking hot body” every time one of her music videos came on TV. Or at least he had. She had been a big star until she suddenly decided to retreat from the spotlight around a year ago.
Shayna hadn’t even known Collette was married. Had her career ended when she and Dante got divorced? Shayna checked the date of the article. No, that news had been posted two years ago. So they’d been apart for a year before Collette’s disappearance from the public eye. But, had the divorce been the reason? And how did a metal god and a pop star end up married in the first place? Shayna would have thought that, like in the literary world, different genres steered clear of each other.
Unable to stop herself, Shayna dug deeper. Apparently Dante and Collette had met at a celebrity fundraising event three years ago. After a whirlwind courtship, including pairing for a duet that topped the billboard for months, they’d married on some tropical island that Shayna couldn’t pronounce. For the first year of their marriage, they were seen occasionally at charity events and award ceremonies, the latter of which Dante looked increasingly uncomfortable attending. To be honest, Collette’s smiles at the charity balls seemed more and more forced, too. Yet when Shayna backtracked to the article about their divorce, there was no big scandal, contrary to the headline, which must have just served as click-bait. Both parties professed that it was an amicable separation.
Though, Collette married her manager shortly afterward. That had led to speculations that she’d been cheating on Dante all along.
Shayna shook her head. How could anyone cheat on such a luscious man? Even Shawn at his most handsome couldn’t compare to Dante, who looked like sin incarnate.
Unable to help herself, Shayna clicked on a video of the famous pair singing their acclaimed duet from one of Collette’s albums. Shayna froze at the first notes. She’d had this song on her MP3 player. It was one of her favorites to listen to when she was doing housework and plotting book scenes. The longing in their voices—and now, in this video, in their eyes—was unmistakable. It was no wonder they’d gotten married.
Her stomach rolled uncomfortably. Why did this bother her so much? Was it because Shayna wanted everyone to live happily ever after and was sad whenever love didn’t work out? If so, why was it that Collette’s heart-stopping beauty and the way Dante looked at her were what made her feel ill?
Even as she scolded herself for continuing to dig, Shayna clicked link after link. Collette and Dante seemed to have quit associating after their divorce, except for an encounter shortly after she announced her retirement from music. There was a photo of him confronting Collette only last year, pointing at her, and he had the most furious snarl on his face. Shayna shuddered at the sight and prayed she’d never see him that angry. His eyes were like chips of ice.
After some searching, she found a video interview explaining the angry photo.
“I was furious that she could abandon her fans like that.”
Collette’s retirement had pissed Dante off. The anger was unmistakable in his voice, and the interviewer pushed up her glasses. “Collette didn’t tell you why she gave up music when you confronted her?”
“No.”
Dante had been really hurt by his former wife’s defection, Shayna could tell. She was outraged at Collette for causing him pain but also curious about why Collette had quit singing. So she moved the mouse to click the next link, and then the next. She couldn’t find exactly what she wanted.
A little after three o’clock, Rosa brought her a sandwich and chips, scolding her about needing to eat and rest. Shayna waved the housekeeper off and continued to read every scrap of information she could find.
Munching on the provided food, she watched more videos of Dante performing, awed once again by his powerful voice and majestic presence. Then she scrolled over to another interview, preferring the videos where she could see him smile….
“You’ve been Googling me all day?”
Dante’s voice came from behind her, making her drop a potato chip on her lap. Her face flamed as she realized it was now a quarter after four. Oh God, what if he thought she was being creepy and obsessive? Was she being creepy and obsessive?
“I wanted to know more about you!” She hated the defensive tone in her voice. “And it wasn’t ‘all day.’ I also answered some emails.”
His expression softened, making her melt. “Is your ex giving you trouble?”
She shook her head, grateful for the change in subject. “No, he’s probably moving in his girlfriend’s stuff as we speak.”
Dante’s eyes widened. “You don’t seem particularly concerned with that.”
“I’m not,” she said softly as the depth of the realization struck her. “I’m really not.”
His continued look of surprised compelled her to explain. “I think the love died in our marriage before the baby—hell, maybe even before we got married.” Emboldened, she continued. “I’m happy that it ended. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m really happy about it!”
At first it looked like he was going to say something, but then he gave her that sexy smile, making her heart turn over. He said, “Then I think we should have a drink and celebrate. That is, if you drink.”
Whatever he asked, Shayna couldn’t resist that face. “I haven’t taken my pain pill yet, so okay.”
She followed him to the bar and laughed as he bade her to sit down and grabbed two bottles, attempted to juggle them and failed miserably.
“What’re you having?” he asked with artificial solicitousness.
“I haven’t had a drink since before I was pregnant, so I’m probably a lightweight.” She giggled nervously. “I don’t know if I’m up to drinking with a rock star.”
He laughed. “How about a simple glass of wine?”
They settled comfortably on the bar stools, she with a glass of Ch
ardonnay and he with a beer so dark and thick it looked like he could chew on it. Dante told her about his meeting with the record producer, and the satirical picture he painted of the intricate politics involved had her in stitches. Apparently the producer had told him to sound more like the band Viciöus, who were apparently close friends of his. When Dante called the singer to tell them about it, he’d discovered that Viciöus had been told to sound more like Deity.
Dante chuckled and shook his head. “We’re not even the same type of metal.”
Rosa brought them in some delicious roasted chicken, and Shayna accepted a third glass of wine. Dante offered up several hilarious stories of his mishaps, from being unable to find the stage to goof-ups on the music video sets. Shayna almost couldn’t believe them.
“So, what made you decide to become a musician?” she asked.
“I’ve loved to sing ever since I can remember. I was actually in the choir at the church my parents went to.” He gave her a wicked smile upon seeing her shock. “I took quite a turn, wouldn’t you say?”
Thinking of his dark clothing and often macabre lyrics, she nodded. A choirboy turned heavy metal? Who would have thought?
“What led to that turn?”
He stared at her. “A lot of people gravitate towards this music, especially the musicians themselves, because they had a painful childhood. I didn’t—well, except for later on, when my mom had her first bout of cancer.” A cloud of sadness passed over his features. “But I can’t remember a day when heavy metal and rock ’n’ roll didn’t lift my spirits, make me feel more alive. I started out listening to Ritchie Panic. He was really big in the eighties, but to hell with him now.”
Shayna blinked at the sudden flicker of hostility. “Why ‘to hell with him’?”
“He just up and abandoned us all.” Dante said bitterly. “I’d finally gotten tickets to see him—saved up for a year—and my friends and I waited for hours before the venue manager announced that the show was cancelled. Apparently the guy just up and quit that day, deciding he didn’t want to play metal anymore. He took his money and retired to some island in the Florida Keys to drink margaritas and laze around.”
“What if something happened to him?” Shayna asked, thinking of her own reasons for losing her creative spirit.
“I wrote him a letter after I made it big,” Dante said with a frown. “He wrote back that he’d been tired and just wanted to enjoy his money while he was still young. Not even an apology for me and all the rest of those people he let down who’d paid to see him. I get that he has the right to do what he wants, but I still think he’s a selfish asshole. Still, I have a lot to thank him for, I suppose, first for inspiring me to pick up a mic in the first place, and then motivating me to become better than him. I’d been just hooking up with a band, and Panic’s abandonment made me even more determined to become a success—and to never do what he did. We were good enough to get gigs in local clubs when I was sixteen, and the next year we signed our first record contract.”
“Sixteen? Wow.” Shayna couldn’t hide her awe. “Were your parents proud? Or did they disapprove?”
His eyes shone boyish and clear as he smiled. “My parents were great. No matter how much other people in the church complained about the ‘Devil’s music’ that I’d gotten wrapped up in, they were always supportive, even when the touring and recording schedule meant I’d have to drop out of school. They even left the church when their friends wouldn’t lay off. Eventually, the money I brought in from my gigs helped pay for mom’s medical bills, and thankfully her cancer went into remission after a five year battle.”
“So, you saved her life.”
Dante rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I wouldn’t go that far, especially not anymore, but I was thankful that I could at least do something to help. I was afraid my parents would ask me to quit and go back to school after she was better, but they didn’t. They even came to my shows.”
“It’s so wonderful that your mom and dad stood by you and your dream,” Shayna said, thinking of her own mother. Maybe this was why he’d turned out to be so kind and selfless. “So many people have monsters for parents.”
He raised a brow. “Like…?”
“My mother,” she admitted with a shudder. “I barely knew my father.” Then she realized what she was saying, and not wanting to delve deeper into painful memories, she brought the subject back to him. “So, what made you first want to help people?”
People like me, she didn’t add.
He shrugged and refilled their glasses, hers with wine, his with beer. “Part of it was because of how I was raised. My mom always brought me to help her with coat drives and soup kitchens.” A strange look flickered across his face. “And when I first started singing with bands in high school, so many of my bandmates were living in poverty—and sometimes with abusive parents and drug addictions. I just didn’t think it was fair, you know? They were all so talented, and they had so many things holding them back that weren’t their fault. Just like it wasn’t my fault I was born into a stable, well-off family. I always did what I could to help, even if it was just giving them a place to crash in the basement and food. And some of them even made it, like Brand Kife from Viciöus.” Dante took a big swig of his beer. “I guess I’m still the same. And I guess I do it to honor Mom’s memory too.”
“Wait, she passed away?” Shayna’s heart clenched.
Dante nodded. “The cancer came back with a vengeance two years ago.” The clipped sentence belied the agony in his eyes. “This time it was quick, and nothing could be done to make it go away.”
“I’m so sorry,” Shayna said. She meant it, too. She knew all too well what it was like to lose a loved one.
“Thanks. I’m still torn up about it, but at least I have Dad. He comes to visit twice a year and I go see him in New Mexico.” He took another big gulp of beer. “But enough about me, what about you?”
Shayna took a sip of wine to delay. “There’s really not much to say. I…write.” Her gaze focused on the wood grain of the bar, silently pleading for him not to ask her to elaborate. “I don’t have many friends, and I haven’t traveled much. I haven’t worked any fancy jobs, or really many jobs period. I’m newly divorced, as you know.” A helpless laugh broke from her lips. “I’m really kind of boring.” And bound to become even more so if she didn’t get her life and creative spark back together.
Dante eyed her over the rim of his glass. “I highly doubt that. Boring is the last word I’d use to describe you.”
Shayna’s pulse jolted. Did he mean that he found her interesting? Was he just being polite—or was it a joke referencing how she’d come to be here?
As if sensing her anxiety, he allowed the question to drift away, humming to the music and tapping his foot. Finally, he poured their fifth drink, eyes suddenly serious. “What happened to the baby, Shayna?”
The world tilted for a second, and she pushed her glass away. “I don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I…” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”
He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. “I’m not a shrink, but I do know that talking things out is the first step to healing.” He softened the statement with a teasing smile. “Besides, since you spent all day ‘studying’ me, I think it’s only fair that I get to know you better.”
Shayna’s resistance crumbled beneath his intense gaze. “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Dante said after a moment.
“I can’t help thinking it was my fault.” Shayna looked away and fiddled with a drink coaster emblazoned with the Deity logo. “I kept forgetting to take my prenatal vitamins, and if I wasn’t so busy working on my next—”
“Stop!” He cut her off, grabbing her shoulders. His eyes had darkened to a stormy gray. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But—”
“No, we’re done with this topic. I’m sorry I even brought it up.” He gave her a brief sq
ueeze before releasing her, making her oddly dizzy from the contact. “God, Shayna, your husband was a monster for not being there through that.”
Shayna nodded, trying to dispel the burning tears. “He lost interest in me the day my pregnancy began to show. I did some research on it, and I guess it has something to do with the Madonna/Whore complex… Anyway, no, he didn’t care—except to treat me like I was a failure as a wife. Maybe I am. I could never make him happy.”
With a gesture, Dante stopped her again. “Please indulge my curiosity. Although I’m glad to know you’re happy to be free of what sounds like a bastard of a man, what made you marry him in the first place?”
Shayna shrugged and grabbed her wine glass, taking a miniscule sip. “There’s not much to say. I was stupid. My dad walked out on us when I was five, and my mom and I weren’t very well-off, so it made sense to marry as soon as I graduated high school. There’d be one less mouth to feed. That and…” She paused before the shameful admission. “Mom and I don’t get along well. College didn’t seem like a realistic option. I didn’t get very good grades in math, and I wasn’t remarkable enough at anything to get a scholarship.”
She sighed, a string of broken and unfulfilled dreams parading before her eyes. “So when I met Shawn, well, it seemed there was no other choice. He was the first guy who took me on actual dates and didn’t try to get me into bed right away.”
Dante nodded when she glanced up at him, and the compassion in his expression made her heart melt.
“How long was it before you figured out that he was a selfish asshole?”
Shayna laughed bitterly. “That’s the thing. I think I knew from day one. He was always ogling other women on our dates, and he was always controlling. Of course, I was used to that. And it’s probably why he wanted to marry me. Because I was so subservient.” A fresh burst of melancholy washed over her. “I was so stupid. I did everything to please that selfish excuse for a man.”
