“We got the news tonight.” Lincoln was practically dancing in place as he laid it on them. “We were first runner-up in the indie rock category, and a band had to drop out. Looks like we’ll be seeing you at the Midatlantic regional festival.”
Anger rippled through Trey and fractured what was left of his calm. “Seeing as how you didn’t make the final cut, and you were on the wait list, I don’t see much competition,” he snapped. “So don’t practice too hard, kids. You won’t make the top ten, much less the top three.”
Dominic’s wounded expression made Trey regret the barb, but he didn’t take the words back. XYZ was the enemy in more ways than one, and Trey wanted to crush them at Unbound. Even if it meant crushing Dominic’s dreams, too.
Lincoln took a step forward, that cocky smile never wavering. “Bring it, bitches.”
“It’s already brought, bitch. Make sure you pack plenty of tissues for when you lose.”
“Says the guy without a drummer.”
“He’s replaceable.” Mean and a lie. Tyson was a friend and damned good percussionist, but Trey’s temper was up and he didn’t like to lose. Not even an argument. It was part of the reason he avoided confrontations if he could—he didn’t know when to stop.
Lincoln narrowed his eyes, lips parting to snap off something else.
“That’s enough,” Beatrice said. “Trash-talk each other on the street, but not in my bar. Fading Daze, out.”
They left. Trey returned to the bar, unable to hold back a smug smile over having gotten the last word in.
“The guy playing the keyboard just now,” Sasha said as she reached past him for a glass. “Wasn’t he the same one you played with last night?”
How did she know they’d—oh. Onstage. That kind of playing. “Yeah, he is.”
“He was so amazing with his violin. I wonder why he doesn’t play it with the band.”
“Dunno.”
He started wiping down the bar, done with the conversation. But Sasha’s words stuck in his mind. Dominic was a genius with his violin, and his love for playing it showed when he performed. Last night had been his first time playing it for an audience in years, he’d admitted that much to Trey.
Something had happened to Dominic to make him stop performing with his violin in public.
Not that he had a chance in hell of finding out now.
Van called for more lime wedges. Trey shoved all thoughts of Dominic out of his mind and went to get the needed fruit.
SIX
Someone bangingon his bedroom door woke Dom from a sound sleep. He grumbled, then tugged the blanket over his head. He didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Reality sucked too much.
The old door creaked open. “Baby, it’s past noon,” his mom said.
He grunted.
The bed moved as she sat next to him like she used to when he was sick as a child. He wasn’t sick, but he ached all over and his head felt stuffy. After the performance last night, he’d texted his mom that he wanted to come home for the weekend, instead of going back to the apartment he shared with Lincoln. He needed space from the band, and he’d dragged his exhausted ass into his childhood home at two thirty in the morning, then collapsed in his old bedroom.
A high-pitched female voice screeched something downstairs.
Dom sat up and blinked bleary eyes at his mom. “Starr okay?”
“She’s having a moment. Your father’s with her.”
“Okay.”
His youngest sister, Starr, was sixteen and autistic. Dominic would never forget the day his parents brought her home. She was five, he was twelve, and at first she’d scared him. She yelled for no reason, clapped her hands a lot, and she wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. But thanks to a lot of love, patience, and special teachers, Starr was in public high school with the best grades in her class.
“What happened?” Mom asked. She ran a hand through his hair, which was probably sticking out in a dozen directions. “You boys have a bad time at the beach?”
“No, everything with the band is great. Every performance went well, and we made some connections.”
