Incidental Happenstance (19 page)

            Their days now included acting on a regular basis as well—his mom was so insistent that they keep the atmosphere of the house lively so as not to upset Shelby that no one could ever show true emotion—they communicated their fears instead with pained eyes and subtle touches. But Dylan had walked in on his mother many nights, crying alone at the kitchen table when Shelby’d finally drifted into a fitful sleep. He’d hold her silently and let her cry until his dad stumbled in after a long day of work, exhausted, to take his place.

            For Dylan’s part, he used his music to help Shelby through her days. He’d play the music he’d heard in the previous days at her bedside, working his voice to try and achieve the gravelly soulful sound of the heavy-set black men who he’d seen perform. Shelby understood blues—she lived it—and often confided in Dylan that she hated seeing their mother work so hard to be cheerful when they all knew she was going to die. Dylan became her confidant, and he often got stabbing looks from his mother when he and Shelby would sing songs they’d written together; songs titled, “
Cancer’s Got me Down
,” and “
The Leukemia Blues
.” 

            It was just a few months later that Shelby asked him to write her good-bye song, and he sang it for her on her fifteenth birthday, after over a month of trying to get it right. Three days later, she was gone.

            His parents moved back to Australia to bury their daughter, rented a small house, and tried to start their lives againee e was still love in their home, but there was a huge hole where Shelby used to be, and they all felt it in very personal ways. After America, the music scene in Melbourne seemed stagnant to Dylan, and he decided to go to England to study music. There, he was introduced to punk rock, and added a whole new dimension to his inner musician. College fizzled—he didn’t have the heart to study theory when he could be working on application, and he stayed in London for a few years, playing random gigs, working solo, starting a band, and attending festivals and concerts by the dozens.

            It was at a little pub outside of London that he first met Bo Collins. He’d come from America and was doing a small tour with a couple of other guys. Dylan liked him at once—drummers didn’t usually have much of a stage presence being all tucked up behind their drum kits and all, but this guy drew in the crowd. He had a friendly smile, was built like a truck, and pounded the drums like no one Dylan’d ever heard play before. After the show he’d bought the drummer a beer, and they’d hit it off immediately. Dylan joined his band the next day for a jam session, and ended up playing a few dates with them. Before Bo returned to America, he extended Dylan an invitation.

            “Listen, Strummer Boy,” he said. “If you decide to come back to the States—and I’m completely serious about this now—you look me up.” Dylan swelled with pride at the confidence the talented man had in him. “You got somethin’—somethin’ special, and I really think we could make somethin’ happen, you and me.” He left Dylan with his numbers in New York, and slipped out the door.

            Dylan turned it over and over in his mind for the next few weeks. He was doing OK in London, he thought, but most of the musicians he knew were hoping to make it in the States. They spent more money on music and concerts in the U.S., and the tours were huge elaborate productions at immense venues, packing in tens of thousands people a night. He called Bo on a Tuesday, and was on a plane to New York City by the end of the week.

            Dylan got a job bartending at a club that was known for its live music, and it wasn’t long before he was performing there too, between acts. Bo had dumped his old band, and they played with different people, making connections and tasting all the music New York had to offer. They found fits—musicians who blended in with their personalities seamlessly, the first being Angelo. He was playing at the club while Dylan was tending bar and Bo was nursing a beer, and when Angelo hit the stage and started making the sax scream, they shared a knowing glance and a smile. They begged him to join them on stage for a number before the opening act was scheduled, and they clicked immediately.

            That weekend, Angelo introduced them to his friend Ty, and the four of them met in Angelo’s basement and started laying down some tracks. They all felt the electricity in the room that night, Dylan said, and started practicing together furiously, writing original songs and finding a style uniquely their own. They started touring, the four of them sleeping in an old van and toting their own equipment in a little U-Haul, playing everywhere they could, gathering a small, but ever-growing following. They met Tommy in Seattle, and it was then that they decided their band was complete. They were signed to a major label after a grueling year of constant touring and bombarding record execs with demo tapes, and the album went platinum in six months. The rest, as they say, was history.

            “Wow,” Tia said, exhaling on the word. “That⯼s quite a story.” She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. “Thank you for sharing it with me…and I’m still so sorry about your sister.”

            “I know,” he said, putting his own hand over hers, and sliding it over to kiss her palm. “It feels good to talk about it though. So,” he added, “I guess you know it all now.”

            “Oh, I doubt that,” she smiled. She wanted to know everything, but sadly, knew she wouldn’t have enough time. “So what about your parents?” she added. “Are they doing OK?”

            “They’re great,” he said with a smile. “They’re really wonderful people. They healed, in time, although I don’t think you can ever really get completely over losing someone you love, especially your own child.” He looked into her eyes intently. “You understand.”

            “Yes, I do,” she said quietly.

            Dylan’s phone chirped twice, startling both of them, but no voice followed. Dylan looked at his watch. “Shit,” he said. “We need to have the pre-show meeting, but I haven’t gotten a clear air report yet. I guess we’ll need to have it in here, but I don’t think the guys even know where I’m at.”

            Tia stood up. “I’ll round them up for you. Penelope Valentine isn’t looking for me, so it doesn’t matter if I’m out and about.”

            “That would be awesome,” he said. “Tell them to come staggered so it’s not too obvious. Have Bo come first, since his name is on the door.”

            She gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll send them in, and then I’ll go meet Lexi at our seats. There’s no way we’ll all fit in this little room.”

            “I’ll see you on stage, then,” he said, pulling her in for a more intimate goodbye.

            “I seriously cannot wait! I’m so excited!” she said, and she slipped out the door into the hallway.

            She was just rounding the first corner when she walked right into a very agitated Penelope Valentine, who was obviously still hunting for Dylan and seriously pissed off that no one had found him for her yet. She was every bit the Hollywood diva, dressed in form fitting designer pants, a daringly low cut blousy top and staggering stiletto heels. Her blonde hair was long and flowing, and her make-up overdone. Her face, although pretty, wore an unattractive scowl. “Oh, sorry,” Tia said apologetically.   

            Penelope grumbled something under her breath and walked past, but then she turned around and said, “Hey, you.”

            Tia turned around and looked at her. “Yes?”

             “Where did you just come from?”

            Tia motioned to the hallway behind her. “From that way,” she said simply.

            “Well, duh,” her face scrunched up incredulously. “I’m looking for Dylan Miller. Have you seen him?”

            “I saw him earlier,” she replied, honestly. “In his dressing room.”

            Penelope made a face that could only be described as disgust. “Did you really,” she spat, “and what are you, some sort of groupie or something?”

            Tia tried not to be offended by her tone and the look on her face—even Bo had said she seemed like a bitch, but it was obvious that she thought she was above Tia, and that she looked down on her with distaste.

            “Why, is that what you’re hoping to be?” she replied coldly.

            Penelope’s chin rose, pushing her perfect fake nose into the air. “Certainly not,” she said haughtily. “I have more class than that. I’m sure you know who I am. Everyone does.”

            Tia looked at her hard, as if she were trying to place her face. “Wait a minute,” she said with fake awe in her voice. “Aren’t you an actress or something?”

            Penelope rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t believe it took Tia so long to recognize her. “I’m an
Oscar nominated
actress,” she said with an air of conceit.

            “Hold on,” Tia commented, shaking her finger as if she were trying to pull something from her memory. “Weren’t you in that movie
Spring Moon
? I didn’t see it—it was only in theaters for a couple weeks, I think.”

            Penelope harrumphed at being reminded of her box office disaster, and then stuck her nose back into the air. She was obviously offended, and went on the defensive. “Yes well, the director really screwed that up,” she said quickly, and then changed the subject. “Now have you seen Dylan Miller or not? I have important business to discuss with him, and I don’t need to waste any more time on someone like you.”

            “Someone like me?” she questioned, looking offended.       

            Penelope waved her off, dismissing her. “Forget it, I’ll find him myself,” she said, walking off the way Tia had just come.            

            Tia shouted back over her shoulder, “Good luck with that,” she smiled, her voice sweet but condescending. Penelope didn’t miss the tone, and turned back to give her one more disdainful look before turning the corner. 

            Tia could hear her knocking on doors, and went to find the guys, to send them on to the pre-show meeting.

            “Oh thank God, you’re finally here!” Lexi exclaimed as Tia slid into her seat. “You missed a hellova opener, I’m telling you. Talk about making it just in time!”

            “Sorry Lex,” Tia replied. “But you knew I wouldn’t miss InHap for anything!”

            “Oh shit, Tia, I’m still all freaked out!” she took Tia by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes to enunciate her point. “I’m dead serious when I tell you that Dylan Miller looked right at me. I seriously thought I was going to pee myself! I really think there’s a chance we can get backstage! What do you think? Maybe I should flash him, or something.”

            Tia laughed. “Please don’t do that. That would ruin our chances for sure!”

            “What are you saying? That I haven’t got it anymore? I’m telling you, he was looking right at me!”

            “I’m sure he was, Lex. But maintain some control, OK?” She changed the subject. “So… how about these seats? Is this awesome, or what?”

            Lexi turned to her and hugged her. “I know, right? It gives your cowboy a couple more notches of respect, I’ll say that.”

            “Enough that you’ll come out with us tonight and meet him?” Tia asked coyly.

            “No, no, I didn’t say that. I’m sorry, sweetie, but I just can’t,” she whined. “Think about how uncomfortable that would be for me when you’re trying to score with some guy and I’m sitting there by myself; or worse, with the rest of his band. Ick.” She made a face and shook the thought out of her head.

            Tia smiled to herself. “I just want to be absolutely positive that there’s absolutely nothing I can say that will change your mind. You are definitely not coming out with us.”

            Lexi took her arms and looked into her eyes again. “There is nothing you can say to change my mind. I am not coming out with you.” She dropped her arms. “Besides, I’m getting backstage with Dylan Miller. I’m going to cash in on my gimme, have freaky hot sex with him, and there’s absolutely nothing you could say that would change my mind about that.”

            Tia turned her head sideways in confusion. “Cash in on your what?”

            “You know—my gimme. The one guy that I could have wild, unabashed sex with for one night without any regret or repercussion.”

            Tia shook her head. “Seriously? And does Ryan know about this?”

            “Of course he does.”

            “So then, does he have a gimme too?”

            “Yeah, he does. His is Alexis Janice.”

            Tia pretended to ponder this for a moment. “Not a bad choice,” she admitted. “But you can’t really be serious.”

            “We put the rule in place a long time ago. It’s not like either of us ever thought that we’d ever have the chance. But I just might have the chance right now, and I’m going to go for it!”

            Tia stopped for a minute. “Really, you think so?” she asked, trying to hide her smirk.

            “I’m telling you, he looked me in the eye, smiled, and tipped his head toward backstage. I think he wants to meet me!” she sang, dancing like a kid in a candy store.

            “Do I need to remind you that you are an engaged woman? With a wedding being planned as that wespeak?”