“Only onstage. Offstage, none of that matters.”
“Deal.”
“So I’ve told you stuff about me. Tell me more about you.”
“I don’t want to talk about my family.”
The dark finality in Trey’s voice had Dom searching for another topic. “Okay, then tell me about your bandmates. How’d you guys meet?”
“Would you believe a Craigslist ad?”
“Actually, I would.”
“Well, that’s how it happened. My dad was pressuring me about college and applying myself to something useful, and I needed out of there, and I knew I wanted to move here so I started browsing want ads for this area. Found one for a start-up band, brother and sister, who were looking for musicians.”
The guy with Trey and Dani last night in the green room looked nothing like her. “Are the brother and sister still part of it?”
“Yes.” Trey chuckled. “I know, Bobby and Danielle don’t look a thing alike. But yeah, they’re a year apart. Music’s huge in their family, so naturally their parents are totally supportive of this.”
“Will it help your Perfect Family Complex if I tell you that Lincoln’s parents don’t speak to him? His sister still calls sometimes, but his parents cut him out when he came out to them. That was, like, six and a half years ago now.”
Trey was silent for a few moments. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. But my family loves him, so he isn’t alone.” He paused, unsure what to say next. “So where are you? At home?”
“Yeah, I work later, but Bobby said someone’s coming by in a little while to audition.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Dom, honest. Like Lincoln said last night, they made Tyson an offer. He took it. We lost, you gained.”
“I know that part, but . . . sometimes I feel like one of the reasons Tyson joined us was because of me.”
Trey made a soft sound that was suspiciously similar to a growl. “He was giving you looks last night. Looks I didn’t like.”
“If it helps, I have a very strict policy about not sleeping with my bandmates.”
“Tempted a lot?”
“Have you seen Lincoln and Benji? I mean, Linc and I had a thing once back in high school, but nothing since then.”
“Wait, are all four of you gay?”
“Yes. Made sharing a hotel bathroom for a week kind of a bitch.”
Trey laughed. “I bet.”
“More for them than me. I grew up in a house with four women and two bathrooms. Time was limited, so I’m kind of no-fuss. Unless I’m performing, then I spend way too much time styling my hair.”
“I like your hair. If mine gets too long, it gets frizzy and curly and shit.”
Dom played with a few strands that had fallen across his forehead. His hair was thick and shiny, and he kept it about fourinches long so he could style it up into waves, kind of like a pompadour but less puffy. Today it was just lying flat around his face looking artlessly cool.
A motorcycle engine revved on the street.
“Where are you at?” Trey asked. “Bike show?”
“Backyard. Some shithead’s trying to be cool.”
