“Works for me.”
After bidding everyone a good evening, they left the studio space and walked down Santa Monica Boulevard toward their destination. It was just after sunset; the temperature had moderated, and all around them the LA nightlife was gearing up, vibrant even mid-week.
Andre watched the couples, both gay and straight, who held hands, laughing as they stopped to watch street performers or window-shop. They were close enough to Beverly Hills that there were several upscale boutiques, and it still boggled his mind at times that he had enough money to afford many of the luxuries on display. Not that he indulged often at all, since he had obligations that were far more important to him than clothes or jewelry.
Within a few minutes, they’d reached Saxon’s, where they were seated at a patio table, the better to enjoy the last of thelate spring weather, which was typically perfect for southern California. They both ordered beer, and Andre opted for his favorite cheesesteak sandwich with fries, while the ever more adventurous Dmitri studied the menu, then chose fish tacos. The walk and the delicious smells around them had sharpened his appetite, so Andre was glad that the food arrived quickly. He dug in at once, savoring the taste of onions, cheese, and meat.
“How are you feeling about the album?” Dmitri asked once they both had taken the edge off their appetites.
Andre swallowed, then wiped his mouth before answering. “I think it’s great. Even if Luka’s songs aren’t as angry this time, the political commentary sure packs a punch, and the rhythms rock. Which is good. We need to shake shit up.”
Dmitri nodded in agreement. “I was worried that Luka might lose some of that energy now that he’s actually in a happy relationship, you know? But damn, he latched right onto the outrage, frustration, and fear we’re all feeling.” He grimaced. “As good as it makes the music, I hate what is inspiring it.”
Some of us more than others, Andre thought, but he didn’t voice the sentiment out loud. His mixed heritage — a blend of Latino, black, white, and even some Native American — was an entire bag of worms he never liked opening, and even having been born and raised in liberal California didn’t mean he escaped prejudice. Given the people he’d seen dragged off by the government in recent times, he knew no one was entirely safe anymore. But he didn’t want to wreck the mood of the evening, so he pushed aside the brooding thoughts and simply agreed with Dmitri’s words.
They continued talking about the new album long after they finished their food and had another round of beers. It was after Dmitri had excused himself to the restroom that Andre, shifting in his chair as their server cleared away their plates, felt the envelope he’d tucked into his back pocket. He pulled it out, thenshrugged and slid a finger under the flap to open it. No doubt it was from a fan like Greg had assumed, so he might as well read it while he waited for Dmitri to return. It was probably innocuous, so he’d simply end up passing it on to their service.
The contents were a single sheet of paper and a photograph. He glanced at the picture, then froze, seeing an image of himself as a teen with another boy whom he hadn’t thought about in years. He stared, frozen in shock, unable to believe an image from years before was coming back to haunt him now.
“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Dmitri’s voice caught him by surprise, and Andre glanced up to see that his friend had returned to the table. He quickly shoved the paper and photo back into the envelope, then stood abruptly.
“Hey, I gotta run. If you’ll take care of dinner, I’ll send you my half,” he said hurriedly. He felt an overwhelming need to escape, to hide away so no one could find him.
“Andre, are you sure you’re okay?”
Dmitri looked worried, so Andre summoned up a smile, wondering if it felt as fake as it felt. “Yeah, fine. Seriously, I totally forgot about something, and I need to deal with it right now. Thanks, see you tomorrow at practice.”
With that, Andre hurried out of the restaurant, walking as quickly as he could back toward his apartment. He knew he was going to have to come up with a better explanation for Dmitri at some point, but right now, he couldn’t think; his heart was beating too fast, and his chest felt like it had an enormous rock sitting on it. He made it to his apartment by pure instinct, not even seeing where he was going, only knowing he had to get to safety and solitude as quickly as he could. He closed and locked the door behind himself before giving in to his now weak knees and sinking down to the floor of his hallway, the letter still gripped in his hand.
Dread filled him, but he had to know. Had to see if it was as awful as he feared it would be. With shaking hands, he removed the letter, letting the photo fall to the floor. He didn’t want to look at it again, but he had to. He made himself read the words slowly and carefully, hoping the implication wasn’t as dire as it seemed.
Andre —
I see you’re doing well for yourself. Me, I’m not doing that great, what with this economy. I think it’s time you helped me out, you know? You owe me after all. You know I could make things hard for you if I was so inclined, but I’ve kept my mouth shut. I’m sure you don’t want me to say anything to anyone, right? It would get messy, and you don’t want that. So be generous. It’s the least you can do.
Remember, cash is king. Giving me ten Gs oughta help clear up any misunderstandings, don’t you think?
R
Below that was a PO Box address in Sacramento, the same as the return address on the envelope.
Andre let the letter fall to the floor as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door.
He knew that scrawled initial all too well, with lines radiating away from it like an explosion. He’d hoped the past would stay buried in the past, but obviously it had come back, threatening to drag him down into a nightmare he thought he’d escaped. He should have known it would happen, but like a fool, he’d dared to believe that if he did better,wasbetter, things wouldbebetter. He’d sworn years before never to go back to the past — but now it had come looking for him instead.
No matter how far he ran, it looked like it would catch up with him eventually. And when it did, he just might lose everything.
CHAPTER 2
Much as he had done the previous day, Dmitri hovered near the door of the studio on Thursday morning, waiting impatiently for Andre to arrive. This time, however, instead of enjoying the anticipation of light-hearted teasing, he was worried that something bad had happened.
Andre’s behavior at dinner the previous night had been alarming, and Dmitri couldn’t shake the thought that something was very wrong. If he hadn’t had to stay and settle their bill, he probably would have gone charging after Andre, hoping to discover what had disturbed him so much that he’d basically fled as though he was being pursued by demons. It obviously had something to do with the letter Andre had received, but Dmitri didn’t have a clue what it could have been about. He’d seen Greg give Andre the letter, but beyond that, he had nothing to go on. As it was, there didn’t seem to be anything he could do beyond texting Andre and offering to help if Andre needed him, which he had done immediately after paying for dinner.
Andre’s reply had been a simple “Thanks, but I’m fine. Sorry about having to run off.”
It had effectively tied Dmitri’s hands, since it meant there was nothing more he could accomplish that night without stepping over boundaries he hesitated to cross, lest he really fuck things up for not only himself, but the band. If he made too bold a play, it could wreck things for all of them.
