He stood, passing the pipe back to her before returning to his laptop. Two clicks on his computer and the music started again, so poignant and lovely she could almost feel it unfurling from his speakers, something she could reach out and touch. She looked up at Dillon, who was looking down at her with the same blindsided expression on his face. It was too hard to look at him, at his dazzled dark eyes, when her own senses were so overwhelmed, so she closed her eyes and fell back on the floor.
Music filled the room, louder than before, or maybe it just seemed that way. She could swear she felt Dillon’s heartbeat through the floorboards when he lay down next to her, keeping time with the song, keeping time with her own heart. They said nothing, their breaths the only sound in the room aside from the music, so achingly lovely. Justine longed for so much. She wanted to be as big as the music sweeping her up, wrapping around her like a lover’s arms.
She lost track of how long they lay there, listening to music. Dillon got up only to play something else for her, every song better than the last. They smoked a little more, but mostly it was just the music. The afternoon light grew golden, and then eventually faded. The trees outside cast shifting shadows on the walls.
Eventually, Justine felt her feet touch the ground again, her body settling back into itself. The music was just music again. She couldn’t see it in the air or feel it on her skin. She was an ordinary human once more. And she was hungry.
“Jesus, I’m starving,” Dillon grumbled at her side, and she erupted into laughter. He chuckled, too, and then her stomach growled loudly, which reduced them both to helpless laughing. She pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms across her traitorous stomach as the tears streamed down her temples and into her hair as she laughed and laughed. Suddenly there was nothing on earth funnier than being hungry.
“You want to order some food?” Dillon suggested. All she could do was giggle in response. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he chuckled, pushing to his feet and heading off to the kitchen.
Later they sat facing each other cross-legged, a Chinese food feast spread out on the floor between them, completely sober. Music still played in the background. It was another brilliant performer she’d never heard of. She’d long since lost track of their names and who sang what. Dillon was busy emailing her mp3 files and links to websites.
“Thanks for today,” Justine said, feeling suddenly awkward after the long day they’d shared.
“For what?” he asked absently, still typing as he chewed a shrimp dumpling.
“Today. All the music. I had a really good time.”
Dillon looked up at her and smiled. “I had fun, too. But we’re not done yet.”
Justine swallowed down the rush of adrenaline. “What are we doing?”
“You gotta help me with a song.”
“Me?”
“Um, Justine, it’s pretty clear we come from the same place where music is concerned. So yeah. I’m working on this song and I’m stuck. I want to play it for you, okay?”
As delighted as his words made her, she was determined to keep control of herself and this situation. There was no room for swooning. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
She pushed the takeout containers to the side while Dillon retrieved his guitar. He settled back down across from her, tuning it a little and adjusting his capo.
“So this is really raw. I’m trying to do this thing with the chorus, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Just play, Dillon.”
He played.
She knew she was sober. The weed had long since left her system. So there was nothing to account for the light-headed euphoria she felt except his music. She loved the songs Dillon wrote when they were safely on her ipod or playing in her car. Here, in his dark living room, with Dillon himself playing one just for her, she was undone, shaken to her foundation and unbearably vulnerable. She had to be careful. This man could ruin her so easily.
He sang along with it in his imperfect, raspy voice, more a suggestion of the vocal part than a true performance. But it didn’t matter. Justine could fill it in for herself. She wanted to fill it in for herself. She wanted to be the counterpoint to the song he was spinning out. She wanted to sing it for him, but she didn’t. Taking over singing the vocal of the song he’d written seemed presumptuous.
“So, that’s all I have so far.”
“It’s good. I love it. It’s so good.”
“Do you see what I mean about the chorus?”
“I see what you’re going for, but—”
“What? Tell me?”
She smiled, remembering their first conversation at the bar, when she’d pressed him for honesty he wasn’t sure she wanted.
“I have this idea. Can I sing something? Is that okay?”
Dillon’s face lit up. “I’d kill to hear you sing one of my songs.”
She ducked her head to hide her smile and sang the passage she’d imagined as he played, his melody, but nuanced and with a raw edge of emotion a guitar could never capture. “Something like that,” she murmured when she was done.
Dillon stared at her, his face blank. Finally he said “Jesus, how do you do that?”
She laughed nervously and waved her hand. “It’s your song. It’s just what I imagined when you played it.”
“No, it’s perfect. Exactly right. Damn, Justine, your voice…”
She looked up when he trailed off and found him watching her with those hooded, mysterious eyes. A tremor of electricity shot through her straight to her stomach, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. She was pinned to the ground by his dark eyes, eyes she felt she’d always known.
The room was still dim, only one sad lamp sitting on the floor in the corner, throwing a weak light over them. Justine’s eyes looked huge, sparkling in the shadows of her face. This was a moment, Dillon knew it. After a long afternoon of music and weed, feeling more connected to her than he’d felt to anyone since Ash back when they were kids, this was the moment. If he wanted to, he could set his guitar to the side, lean across and touch her beautiful face. He could kiss her. She’d let him. She’d kiss him back. His heart started beating faster at the thought of it. Kissing Justine. Touching her. Taking her upstairs. It could happen now. In a lot of ways, it felt like it should happen.
But then he heard Rocky’s voice in his head. If Ash was the devil on his shoulder, then Rocky was his unlikely angel, pointing out all the things he’d be better off not doing. Rocky said she was the kind of girl a guy fell hard for and she was. Justine was a girl who changed everything. She’d make a guy be a better man.
For once, he imagined the day after, not just the night before. He imagined trying to be a better man for Justine while still being the guy in the band he’d always been, and he didn’t know how to do it. This thing had taken off, like a rocket lit underneath him. All he knew how to do right now was hang on and try to enjoy the ride before it burned out. He didn’t know how to fit Justine into the picture, not the way she’d need to be with him. He didn’t know much, but he knew Justine was an all or nothing proposition. He wasn’t sure if he could give her his all, not now.
So he wouldn’t let this moment happen. He wouldn’t lean across and kiss her, even though he wanted to. He wouldn’t take her hand and lead her upstairs. Because the rest of this day was worth more than a night of sex. The music he shared with her was too damned important to gamble on a flare of lust. For once, he’d do the right thing, not the rock star thing.
He was the one to look away first, down to his guitar. He plucked out notes and the moment slowly faded. A minute, later, he heard Justine shift her weight.
“I’d better get going,” she murmured, dusting her palms down her thighs before standing up.
“Thanks for coming over today. We should hang out again.” He looked up at her. She was smiling down at him, relaxed and easy, all the tension from the last few moments gone.
“That would be great. Hey, we’re playing
at the Sound Lounge again tomorrow night. I know you’re probably busy—”
“I’ll be there.”
“You will?” She looked so surprised, so pleased, it made his heart hurt. This amazing girl had no business putting so much stock in a worthless fool like him. But still, she wanted him to come, so he wouldn’t miss it.
“Yeah, I will. I’ll be there.”
Her smile grew even wider. “Great. I guess I’ll see you then.”
“So the band we saw on New Year’s Eve…”
Ash rolled his head on the back of the couch to eye Dillon. He didn’t look back, focusing instead on his guitar propped in his lap.
They were technically just on a break from rehearsal for the tour, but JD went out for a pack of smokes and he hadn’t come back yet, leaving them all cooling their heels. Dillon was trying to be productive, finishing the song he’d worked on with Justine, but Ash had opened a bottle of Jack and Dillon feared he was at the end of his usefulness for the day. Besides, the band mood was celebratory since a rep from the label had stopped by earlier to tell them Heartbreak Tonight was the number ten single in the country. Maybe he should just ease up and celebrate like everybody else. Hell, they’d worked hard enough to get there. They all deserved a little fun.
“Which one?” Ash asked. “Primal?”
Dillon snorted. “Yeah, right.Why are you even friends with that guy Mick?”
Ash opened his mouth to reply, thought for a second, and shook his head. “I don’t know. I used to buy blow from this chick he was dating. Sometimes he’d come along and we’d party together.”
Dillon shook his head. “All your friends are people you use with, Ash.”
Ash looked at him again, his expression almost pained, and Dillon felt like a dick. That was a low blow and besides, he was hardly one to judge.
“Except you,” Ash said quietly. Dillon felt worse.
“Sorry, that was out of line.”
“Is this about the girl?”
“What girl?”
“The girl. The one we met that night. The one from the other band? The one that came backstage at the Greek? The one you’re hinting around about now. Is this about her?”
Dillon shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
Ash considered him for a long moment, appearing far more sober than Dillon had given him credit for. “So what is it like then?”
“Don’t be an ass, Ash. She’s talented. Really freaking talented. And you know it. I’m going to see them again tonight. You should come.”
Ash nodded. “Okay.” And then a beat later, “Why should I come?”
“I’m thinking they should open for us on the tour.”
Ash paused and then whistled through his teeth. “You’re serious about them.”
“Not the band, really,” Dillon waved a dismissive hand in the air. “The band is boring. It’s Justine. She’s the talent there.”
“Justine,” Ash rolled her name around on his tongue, considering, and Dillon wanted to smack that half-formed leer right off his face. He punched Ash’s arm and Ash laughed, curling away and taking a swig off his bottle.
“Ash… I’m serious. It’s not about that. Not for me and not for you, either. I just want you to come watch the band again and see what you think. I saw them the other night and she rocked. But it’s your decision, too.”
“Of course I’ll come, but Dillon, I trust you. There’s nobody I trust more than you.”
Dillon was humbled by Ash’s blind faith in him, faith he felt he didn’t always earn. “Just come see them with me tomorrow and then tell me that.”
Hooking her arm through David’s, Justine tugged him towards the green room door.
“Come on, Grumpy, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?” David asked as she propelled him down the hallway towards the front of the club.
Behind them, Paolo snickered. “Justine’s new boyfriend.”
“What?” David asked, freezing in place. “Who?’
“What are you, Paolo, nine? Just come on. It’s important for the band, okay?”
David scowled but he didn’t protest further as she led them through the packed house back towards the bar. Like the first time they’d come, she spotted Ash’s blond hair first, a full head taller than anyone. Her eyes darted to his right and found Dillon just where she expected him.
Also just where she expected them to be were two girls chatting them up.
“Figures,” David muttered.
“What?”
“You really want to join their little harem?”
“As if I’d ever,” Justine growled. She tilted her chin up and stiffened her spine, employing all five feet nine inches plus three more inches of high heels to intimidate the groupies. When she sailed up, still dragging a surly David at her side, both girls threw her bitchy back-off glares. She ignored them, turning her most dazzling smile first on Ash, then on Dillon.
“Hi boys. Thanks for coming tonight.”
Ash took a swaggering step forward into her personal space and reached for her free hand.
“Hey, pretty girl. You kicked ass up there.” He stroked a thumb across the back of her hand, one of his smooth moves that made Justine laugh. He was just so blatant with his deadly Lothario act. She couldn’t believe it worked on the barflies, but judging from the glares they were still shooting her, it did.
Dillon gave Ash a shove, and although she hadn’t spent much time with the two of them together, she felt like she could read that shove. It meant “Back off and behave”. Ash seemed to get it, too, backing up a step and raising his hands in defense.
“You were great, Justine,” Dillon said. The smile she turned on him was less calculated, less dazzling, and a thousand times more genuine than the one she’d given Ash. She could feel it, and she knew she needed to get it under control, but she just couldn’t help it. She heard David let out a bored sigh.
David cleared his throat and she remembered herself. “Dillon, Ash, I don’t think you guys met the rest of the band on New Year’s Eve. This is David, Eddie and—” she glanced around behind herself. “Where’s Paolo?”
“He met some girl,” Eddie offered.
The boys all shook hands and exchanged greetings. “Solid performance tonight,” Dillon told David as he shook his hand. To her relief, David left off his surly attitude to return a polite response, even if it was a long way from friendly. As they started exchanging small talk about the set, the venue and the crowd, the girls seemed to sense they were now shut out of the conversation. With one last bitter glance at Justine, they slid away down the bar in search of more promising prospects.
“I seem to have scared off your fan club,” Justine observed.
Ash threw an absent glance over his shoulder. “Oh, them? Nothing special. Plenty more where they came from.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed, “I’ll just bet. As thick as fleas on a dog. Probably just about as smart, too.”
Ash let out a bark of laughter. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “I’m not interested in playing dumb to get the boys to like me.”
Ash gave her a long, appraising stare, as if she was finally coming into focus in his brain. “I get it,” he murmured. Then he glanced at Dillon. “You were right.”
Puzzled, she looked back and forth between them. “Right about what?”
“Nothing,” Ash said, turning on his charming smile again. “Your talent. Dillon was right about your talent, that’s all. And you know Dillon is never wrong.”
They both turned to look at him, but his attention was once more on David. “No, I bet he never is,” she murmured.
“Dillon saved my life, you know.”
“Did he? That sounds like an interesting story.”
“It is. But not for tonight. Tonight’s for us all to get to know each other. If Dillon has his way, we’ll be spending a lot more time together from here on out.”
Justine blinked at Ash, trying t
o figure out what he was alluding to. “And does Dillon always get his way?”
“He does, unless I mess it up for him.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
Ash laughed and shook his head, “All the time. C’mon, Justine, let me buy you a drink. You and I are about to become new best friends.”
“We are, huh?”
Ash raised a hand to flag the bartender. “We’d better become friends, don’t you think? After all, we share him now.” He tipped his chin in Dillon’s direction and she turned to look. As she did, Dillon glanced over and smiled at the two of them. And Justine knew Ash was right. Whatever this was with Dillon, he was her friend, they were connected. Not as long as he and Ash, and not as deeply, but it was certainly something. Regardless, she was staying put in his life as long as he’d let her.
“Yes, I guess we do share him now.”
Mark Bennett sighed and pressed his fingertips into his eye sockets. It was supposed to be a quick meeting, just cleaning up some tour details with the label’s new darlings. He should have known nothing was ever easy with these guys.
“Are you crazy? They’re not even signed.” As soon as he’d come in, Dillon had slapped a CD of some no-name band into his hand and said he’d found the band that would open for Outlaw Rovers on the tour.
“So they’ll be cheap. You guys should like that, right?”
“Dillon,” he sighed. “I appreciate that you’re a big fan or whatever, but this is not how it’s done. We’ll cull a roster of potential acts and discuss the options with you—”
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