“I have an idea,” said Dale, dropping the broom and dustpan with a clatter. Running over the scales of her sequined dress, he teased the zipper down a few inches and murmured, “How about we go upstairs?” He kissed her exposed shoulder and walked his fingers beneath the hem of her dress, up her thigh. “We could lie under the stars…”
The “stars” he spoke of were indoors, his bedroom ceiling strung with a nest of cables and telephone wires he’d scavenged from his father’s electronics store and splattered with phosphorescent paint, creating a three-dimensional cosmic effect. The first time Oona had seen that ceiling, it made her gasp in wonder; two years on, she still found it awe-inspiring. To say nothing of the man running kisses down her neck.
“Tempting, but it would be rude to the others.” Reluctantly she stopped his hand from moving any farther up her leg. “With school and the band, it’s been ages since I’ve seen anyone besides you, Corey, and Wayne.”
“We saw a bunch of people at CBGB’s just a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but we were so busy playing the holiday showcase and meeting with Factory Twelve’s manager, we barely got to talk to our friends.”
“Considering what came of it, I don’t think they minded. You know what a tour like this could do for our band? After opening for the Pretenders, Factory Twelve got signed to Chrysalis, and their first single just hit the Top Forty.”
“They’re still not the Pretenders, though. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to be playing stadiums.”
“Right…” The word drawn out as he took a step back, his eyebrow inching up. “But we’ve never played for more than a couple hundred people—we’ve never even left the tri-state area. And Factory Twelve could still become huge. Opening for their spring tour is the kind of break most bands never see. I thought you were excited about it.”
“I am. I just— I’m not…” She fought to keep a stammer out of her voice. “It’s exciting, but it’s intimidating. Visiting new cities, playing bigger venues…”
“It’s more than that,” he said with a knowing nod. “You don’t have to keep it from me, you know.”
Her stomach plummeted. Did he know? “Keep what from you?”
“You’re still shaken up from the mugging after Wayne’s party. I saw how you jumped at the crash earlier. You thought it was a burglar. And you’re worried about touring, scared something bad might happen again.”
“Oh.” Relief ran through her like a faucet turned up full blast. “Well, it was pretty terrifying.” It happened last month, on the subway back to Bensonhurst. At first she’d laughed at the man who approached them because he wore swim goggles. But she’d stopped laughing when he pulled a switchblade.
“Listen to me.” Dale’s voice dove down a few notes as he pulled her in close. “Nothing would’ve happened to you. I was ready to do whatever it took to keep you protected. Face a knife, a bullet, anything.”
“Thank god all it took was handing over our money.” She shuddered, recalling how paralyzed she’d been, how Dale had to reach into her own coat pocket to remove her wallet and pass it to their goggled assailant. “And good thing I wasn’t wearing my watch that night.”
“Nothing bad will happen to you on this tour. As long as you’re with me, you’re safe.” The promise was echoed in his steady gaze and the determined set of his jaw.
“I know.” Her voice caught in her throat at his vehemence. “You don’t have to take a bullet for me to prove it.” She traced a finger over the bump in his nose.
“I’ll also take a hammer if you wanna straighten that out for me.” Despite his overall swagger, his nose was the one part of his body he felt embarrassed by.
“Shush. I have the hots for your nose. And not just because of what they say about big noses.” Oona’s hand hovered at his belt buckle, wanting to travel farther south, but remained still; it would be too easy to lose track of time. “Let’s go take care of this mess. But first, a little help?” Draping her long chestnut hair over one shoulder, she offered her exposed back so he could zip her up into the dress. “Do you think we should’ve rehearsed more earlier? I know we’re just playing for friends tonight, but I still want to impress.” After a gig, she’d once overheard someone say she was “decent, but hardly the next Joan Jett.” Oona wasn’t sure how much she agreed—given the chance, she could be a better guitarist than keyboardist, and she was as solid on vocals as Dale—but that comment stuck with her.
When she turned around and finished adjusting her dress, he gave a low whistle. “God, you’re a knockout. You have no idea.” Even beneath the harsh fluorescent kitchen light, his skin glowed as he shook his head in awe.
Pinned in place by the intensity of his dark eyes, words escaped her and narcotic elation flooded her veins. All she could do was squeeze his hand in response.
Dale moved in and spoke low into her ear. “For the record, you’re always impressive. I’ve been impressed by you since I first saw you. And every minute I get to spend with you is the highlight of my motherfucking life.”
* * *
In the living room, the coffee table lay in a pile of twisted chrome and glass shards.
“Fucking Corey,” Dale muttered. “And you wonder why I talk about finding a new drummer.”
As they carefully collected the mangled metal and pieces of glass, Dale continued the now-familiar refrain. “He’s getting out of control. I don’t know if he’s been doing more coke, but the drinking alone is a problem. We don’t even have a record deal and he’s already acting like Keith Moon. Maybe we should replace him now before he blows the tour for us.”
“You can’t kick him out. He messes up, but he’s a great drummer and he loves the band.” Oona smoothed his furrowed forehead. “Have more faith in him.”
Back in the basement, Dale headed over to the turntable and Oona got herself a drink. She sipped cheap champagne from a plastic cup and observed the colorful crowd before her.
Someone tapped her shoulder.
“What’s with the moping?” It was Wayne, wearing red leather head to toe, his Jheri-curled Afro shimmering in the light.
“I’m not moping.” But in her voice, a hint of defensiveness.
“Oh, come on. You’re usually dancing your ass off, smiling like a lunatic. What happened? You and Dale get into a fight?”
“Of course not. I was just thinking about how much I’ll miss everyone.” She hurried to add, “When we all go on tour.”
“I’m not really buying it, but I’ll let it go.”
Oona pointed at her empty cup. “I need a refill. Back in a sec.” She stepped away from Wayne, her mouth dry, faint queasiness undulating within her. What she really needed was a place to quiet her thoughts and set them aside, so she could get lost in the festivities.
Across from the basement stairs was the bathroom. A knock on the door yielded no response, so Oona turned the handle and stepped inside, where Corey was hunched over the sink.
“What the hell?” He bolted upright, eyes bulging.