Her mom leaned over to rub Samara’s back.“I’m hoping we can sell the house in Milwaukee soon, so we can be there with you.”
Her mom stretched her arms over her head and finished the shot of tequila she had been sipping.“This is way past my bedtime, but I am so proud of all of you.”She looked around the table at each of the bandmates before resting her gaze on Ellery.“Especially you, honey.I know this is your dream, and you’re going for it.Don’t let anything get in the way.We are so proud of you.”
Tears rose behind her eyes and she leaned over to wrap her mom in a fierce hug.
She wouldn’t.
CHAPTER14
Now—Ellery
Dante playsa few chords to herald Ellery’s return to the mic.She cups it between her palms, and not for the first time, he envies that mic.
It’s impossible to forget how it felt to be cradled by those hands.
Dante flexes his own over his bass, his fingers long and supple, calloused from the strings and scarred over his left knuckles.The words and images wrapping up his right forearm glow, like they know they were meant for her.
The crowd chants; they are a mob held in thrall to the music.“Water Teeth!”they cry.“Centrifuge!”
Dante knows Ellery well enough to understand she’s not ready for those songs.Not yet.Besides, she torched the set list four songs back.
Ellery crouches beside the large fans at the front of the stage and shuts them off.“Phew!It’s getting chilly up here.How you all doing tonight?Cozy up and stay warm.”She’s answered by a roar of approval.“We had these fans up here for sound check when it was ninety-eight earlier this afternoon.You have to love LA weather.”
Applause in reply.
“I’m not from Los Angeles originally.My bad, right?If you are, give yourselves a round of applause.”
About half the audience stands to more cheers and good-natured clapping.
“I’m from Milwaukee, actually.”Ellery’s voice takes on a wispy quality.“Go Packers.Sorry, sorry.Forgot my audience for a moment.”
A polite chuckle rumbles through the crowd.Not everyone in LA takes their football as seriously as in other parts of the country.
Ellery perches on the edge of the stool, one foot resting on the bottom rung.A memory shudders through him, of Ellery on a barstool in the Florida Keys, lacing her fingers through his.
Want pools inside him but he pushes it away.He has to.It’s self-preservation, pure and simple.
“People think they know me,” Ellery says.“Because of what they’ve seen on TV or read in papers.But how well do any of us know each other?I am a carefully crafted amalgamation of other people’s work.”
Dante’s breath catches, and he knows his isn’t the only one.The birds have stopped flying; the trees ceased their rustling.In this enormous amphitheater, a pin drop could echo for days.
Ellery turns and finds him, and it feels like it always does.Warmth and sunlight blooming through his chest.
“Then,” she says.“There are people who know you so well, better than you know yourself, and like who they see.And you feel like you can never deserve them.”
His heartbeat slows, then stops before shuddering back to life.
Ellery breaks the spell by tossing her mane of blond hair and settling herself more comfortably on her barstool, Jasper in her hands.“A lot of you may not know this song was ours, since it got swept up in the hubbub of award shows and Hollywoodization, but this was our song first.These people up here, they invented it.Back when we were the Vendetta.Back when we were untouchable, unbroken.”
Dante glances briefly at Selene and Lorraine, but they’re in the groove just as he is, ready to follow.Ready to play whatever it is she says.
“This is ‘Black Moan Rising.’”
CHAPTER15
Three Years Ago—Ellery
“Okay,Sammy, you’re right.Key West is gorgeous.”
