“She’s a tough one, by the way.” He offered a smiled that faded before I could register the full extent of the damage that the overdose had done to his body. “I was seriously considering asking the owners of the Chinese Theater instead, hoping they’d be easier to convince.”
“And you think this gives you a free pass now?” Frank asked, but the bitterness in his voice was gone. Sadness was what I heard. “You think one noble act is going to erase twenty years of wrongs?”
“No, I don’t.” Dante shook his head. His eyes shone under the bright stream of the overhead light. “I think I’m a shitty person and I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I’m not going to explain why I did it or what motivated me, because it’s fucking obvious. I don’t know and I don’t fucking remember doing half of this shit.” He stopped to catch a breath. There were tears in his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt as much when you’re high, Frankie-boy, but I’m sure you know that. You felt it, didn’t you? When it sweeps you under and when it lies to you and tells you everything is going to be okay, but when you wake up sober, you’re fucking devastated. So you go looking for it again. You go looking for that feel-good that gets you through the day, that keeps you conscious and all your demons at bay.”
He paused again. His labored breaths roared inside my head.
“Dante, why don’t we talk after the panel?” I offered.
He continued to stare at Frank, tears rolling down his cheeks full force now.
“You have what you always wanted, Frankie-boy. Freedom. Don’t let your ego take it away from you.”
“Preaching doesn’t suit you,” Frank said quietly.
“It doesn’t suit you either. Let’s be honest. We both fucked up. We both did things we’re not proud of. I’m not looking for some kind of redemption. I’m just facing the consequences of the shitty choices I made. I never wanted you out of the band. I love you like a brother, but we both knew when you decided to come back it wasn’t going to work out. The only difference was that I saw it and you refused to accept it. Yes, I stood by and watched the label kick you out, but it wasn’t your battle to fight. Not anymore. This, right here”—Dante threw his hands in the air, motioning at the cement walls—“is your battle. This is where you belong. I just wanted you to understand that everything I did was for your own good, even if I did it backwards. That’s all I wanted to tell you. That I love you and I’m sorry. That I’m proud of you and that I want to part ways peacefully. I don’t want to leave any bad blood behind.”
Frank remained mute. My hand still held on to his, but all the signals were mixed. The silence swelled. Even Brooklyn stayed quiet. Behind the door, in the lounge, people screamed and music played.
I felt the uncertainty and the ache. It swirled around us like a cloud of dust above a dirt road that had just been touched by a set of tires.
Tense seconds ticked by as Dante wiped his left cheek with the back of his palm. “It’s good that you’re getting yourself sorted out. The bottle is a bitch. Once she has her claws in you, she’s never going to let go.” The words were slowly dying on his lips. “I know it. I’ve been trying to shake her off for almost two decades. Now I can’t even play a chord I wrote. A lost fucking cause.”
His helplessness crept through the air between the three of us.
I didn’t have the right to speak. This was their fight. Instead, I squeezed Frank’s hand. A reminder that today, he’d been given the benefit of the doubt and now it was his turn to give.
He cleared his throat and stared at Dante. “You want to try? It’s an acoustic set.”
“I thought you’d flaked out on us again!” Isabella shouted as guards ushered us into the dressing room. “We’re ten minutes behind.” She stared at Dante with frazzled eyes.
“¿Cómo estas, mija?” Dante jerked his chin and gave everyone in the room a once-over.
Andy and Kit looked mildly shocked. Story kept blinking.
“Thank God!” Maria cried out.
“You up for doing a Hall Affinity cover, Izzy?” Frank wrestled off his jacket.
“I thought we weren’t doing any covers?” Her gaze flicked over to Dante. “Didn’t you just quit the band, dude?”
“I did.” He nodded.
“So is this like a mini-reunion?” Andy perked up.
“I guess you could say that.” Frank grinned.
“We don’t have time for this, guys!” Brooklyn flung her hands in the air and pointed at him. “You need to follow me.” She turned to Dante. “I don’t know what to do with you, so talk to Cassy.”
My brain went into high gear. I pulled out my phone and shot out a quick group text to Ashton and Levi. Livestream. This was an unexpected turn of events. Six hours ago, I had no idea Frank would be here tonight to perform with Isabella. Now Dante was here too and the three of them were going to improvise.
I took a spot at the side of the stage, trying to stay out of the way and let the crew get everyone ready. Levi seemed to enjoy the spotlight. He stretched his neck and rehearsed his speech. Frank stood next to the small opening between the curtains and peeked at the audience. The entire theater, quiet and at a standstill, was waiting.
I heard a swarm of whispers when the lights finally dimmed. Isabella spun her chair to face me and I gave her a thumbs-up.
She patted her knees and grinned. “Heard that break-a-leg saying?”
I bit back my smile.
“They better make me into a fucking meme after we hit Billboard’s top hundred.”
Levi squeezed his way onto the stage and marched over to the microphone. Noise rolled through the crowd.
“You’re good for him,” Dante’s voice said near my ear.
I turned my head to look at him. Up close, he appeared worn out. “Are you okay?” I asked, studying the faint traces of damage that lined his face.
“I’m good.”
“Are you getting help?”
He nodded.
“You’ll tell me if you need anything, right?” I didn’t know why I said that, but I needed to make sure I let it out into the universe. In a sick way, I was worried about him.
“You can’t keep trying to save everyone, darlin’,” he said with a smile. “Just save the ones who matter.” His gaze jumped over to Frank.
Thunderous applause wiped out the questions that swelled in my head. Isabella and the band took the stage next. When she reached the microphone, the auditorium went still. It was the strangest kind of silence. The calm that usually came before the storm, and the name of that storm was Frankie Blade. At least to those who’d gathered here tonight for an evening of music. To me, he was Frank Wallace. The man I loved.
The rumble of clapping hands and whistles swallowed me and my thoughts entirely when he finally walked out on stage. Story ran through a chord, and I recognized one of the original songs.
“I think you’ve probably noticed we had a little change of plans tonight,” Frank said, adjusting the microphone.
The audience laughed.
“We wanted to surprise everyone,” he continued. “Guess what? I’ve got a friend of mine hiding backstage right now. He plays a guitar, so we thought…”