Always (3 page)

“I know!” Justine reached out and squeezed his arm briefly in her excitement. His eyes flickered down to her hand on his arm and he ignored an impulse to shift closer to her. “We fight about it all the time. God forbid we do something people can actually sing along to. That’s what I loved about what you did with your last album, by the way. The songs on the first one were solid, but you— I don’t know— it’s like you got down to the basic elements on the second one. You cleared out all the extra sound and I could really
hear
how good they were.”

Dillon laughed. “You want to follow me around all day telling me how awesome I am? Because I could get used to this.”

Justine smiled and looked down in her drink, for a second looking almost bashful. “I just really admire you as a musician. God, that sounds so lame, but it’s true.”

Dillon nudged her elbow. “After tonight, I could say the same about you. It takes a hell of a performer to make mediocre songs that much fun to listen to. I meant it when I said they were lucky to have you.”

“That… I can’t tell you how amazing it is that you think so. I need to shut up before I keep gushing and thoroughly embarrass myself.”

“Trust me, there’s no chance.”

Justine exhaled. “So, can I ask you a question about the album? It’s been driving me crazy.”

“Shoot.”

“The bridge on
Falling
… It reminded me of something. Were you thinking about anything in particular when you wrote it?”

Dillon took a drag on his beer while he thought about it. “Back when I was writing it, I was listening to this crazy album from the 90’s… some random thing nobody knows. Astral was the band. Anyway—”

Justine cut him off. “I
love
Astral.”

“You
know
Astral? Nobody knows Astral.”

“
I
know Astral! I heard them once at this party in high school. I wouldn’t rest until I tracked down a CD. The album was amazing.”

“Right? They had that retro-psychedelic thing going on, but with a beat.”

“Yes! And the harmonies in
Rewind Time
… I could listen to it for the rest of my life.”

“I love that one, too. It’s always blown my mind those guys weren’t huge. But they made the one record nobody bought and then they vanished.”

“The lead singer OD’d. At least that’s what I heard.”

“Shit, are you kidding?”

“I met this DJ who knew them back then. He told me.”

“What a waste.” Dillon shook his head. “I still can’t believe you like that band. Do you know Paul Westley?”

“Oh my God, yes! I love him!” Justine’s eyes lit up with delight, and Dillon had to smile at her enthusiasm. “What about The Masters? Not this last album. The first one.”

“Yes, the first album for sure. Freaking genius. The second album was a total letdown.”

“Agreed. Abigail Christiansen?”

The next ten minutes passed in a blur as they traded music and influences. Dillon knew more music, including a dozen indie bands Justine had never heard of, but when they touched on a band they both knew, invariably, they felt the same about the music. She was electrified by the conversation, and by finding someone who saw everything just the way she did. The fact that it was a musician she idolized only made it better. The fact that it was
Dillon
— good-looking, mysterious Dillon— was the delicious icing on the cake.

They paused just long enough for Dillon to lean across the bar and flag down the bartender for more drinks. Justine watched the muscles in his biceps flex as he leaned forward on his elbows. He drummed his fingers on the bar while he gave their order. His hands were amazing, long, agile, guitar-player’s hands. She caught herself licking her lips and had to look away to get herself back in hand.

“So it’s clear we need to get together and listen to music sometime,” he said as he turned back to her.

“We absolutely do,” Justine agreed.

“Do you maybe want to—”

“Hey, Dillon.” Rocky spoke over Justine’s shoulder, startling them both out of the bubble they’d been in. “We gotta bail. Brendan said one and it’s all the way out in Laurel Canyon.”

“Yeah, okay.” He turned back to Justine. “Sorry, this guy at our label asked us to play a song for his wife at her New Year’s Eve party and we’re late.”

“You’re not staying for our set?” Mick was mumbling behind her somewhere.

“Next time, man,” Ash said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well, it’s nearly midnight. You gotta stay.” Mick said, planting his hands on the bar. “Here. We’ll do a shot at midnight and then you can cut out.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Ash laughed. A girl was perched on a barstool behind him, her legs wrapped around his waist and her fingers in his hair.

She knew how it was for these guys in bands, especially ones on their way to stardom like Ash and Dillon. The girls were plentiful and so easy. She’d seen it a million times. She wanted to think Dillon was different, although she knew he probably wasn’t. Just because he’d spent time talking one-on-one with her, seemingly interested in everything she said and not just how she looked, didn’t mean he wouldn’t leave here tonight and go pick up any one of a million willing, eager groupies. It was a depressing thought.

“Sorry you can’t stay for our next set,” she said brightly, aiming for off-handed.

“I am, too,” Dillon replied, sounding genuinely disappointed. “It feels like we have a lot more to talk about. Hey, why don’t you come to our show on Wednesday? We’re playing the Greek. I’ll leave your name at the box office and you can come backstage after. We’ll finish this then.”

Her heart pounded as the thrill worked its way through her. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

“No, thank you. This night turned out to be way more entertaining than I thought it would be.”

She took in his dark eyes, focused just on her, and the slight smile as they made plans to meet again. In that moment, it was the best night of her life. “For me, too.”

The song playing overhead suddenly cut off, like water being thrown on the crowd. The magic of the past half hour disappeared into the chatter of voices all around them.

A moment later, the DJ began the countdown to midnight and someone handed them shots. As the crowd shouted down the numbers, she looked at Dillon and he looked back, smiling. The moment felt huge, important, the kind you look back on years later and think “It all started then.” What they were starting wasn’t entirely clear yet, but Justine hardly cared. When “one” rang out, the room erupted into noise, Dillon tipped his head back and downed his shot. She watched his throat work as he swallowed before closing her eyes and raising her own glass to her lips with an unsteady hand. The burn slid down her throat, her chest erupting in fire, and she exhaled.

When she opened her eyes, Dillon’s face was just inches from hers and her breath stalled in her chest.

“How about a kiss to ring in the New Year?” he murmured.

All she could manage was a tiny nod and then his mouth was on hers. She couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey or him, but it didn’t matter. It burned just the same. It was barely a kiss, just a gentle caress of lips on lips promising so much more, and then he was pulling away. A lazy smile curled his lips, which were nearly perfect, she noticed. Full and almost pretty.

“Alright, Dillon,” Ash called out, having just broken off a more x-rated kiss with the girl still draped on him. “We gotta roll.”

Behind Ash, Rocky was whispering in the ear of another girl and she was giggling. JD already had his arm slung over yet another girl’s shoulders, getting ready to leave with her.

“See you Wednesday, Justine,” Dillon said, never looking away from her as he backed up.

She nodded. “Wednesday.”

He finally turned, following Ash, Rocky and JD—and the pack of girls in tiny dresses, she noticed with dismay—into the crowd.

A moment later, Mick slid an arm around her shoulders. “What do you say, Jessica? You got a midnight kiss for me, too?”

“Ugh!” she groaned, shoving him away. “Not a chance. Don’t you have a set you’re supposed to be playing?”

Mick raised his hands, laughing. “Settle down, sweetheart. Didn’t realize Dillon was a special case. See you later, maybe?”

She didn’t answer, watching him disappear toward the stage up front. Dillon was most certainly a special case. She had no idea just how special until tonight.

Justine turned away from the cash register and reached for her vibrating cell phone.

“You mean you’re not dead? I was beginning to wonder.”

She smiled at her sister’s sarcastic version of a greeting. “I’m hanging up, Em.”

“No, no, no!” Emily protested, laughing. “I haven’t heard from you in almost a week. I was about to hoof it down to LA and start patrolling skeevy backrooms in clubs to find you.”

“Very funny. How’s the painting going?” Justine knew she was deflecting, asking about Emily’s art, but she wasn’t above it.

“Ugh,” Emily groaned. “I hate everything, I want to burn the canvas. You know, the usual. Now quit avoiding the issue. Where have you been hiding and why? You never stop calling unless you’re all freaked out about something and don’t know what to say.”

“Well, for most of this week, I really was just too busy. We’ve had a gig every night this week, plus I’ve been working every day.”

“When are you going to give up the stupid retail job?”

Justine cast a despairing look around the deserted vintage store. As far as day jobs went, she loved hers. She didn’t earn a lot of money, but the store had an interesting clientele and her employee discount helped her acquire awesome things like her New Year’s Eve silver hot pants. “When being a rock star pays my rent, I’ll quit. And since that’s still a long way off, I’m stuck selling smelly cast-offs to hipsters.”

“Okay,” Emily conceded. “You were just busy. So why do you sound all weird?”

“I do not!”

“Justine…”

“Okay, fine.”

“Spill.”

Justine squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath, spitting her reply out in a rush. “I met Dillon Pierce.”

“Dillon Pierce? Oh, wait… the guy from that band you like?”

“Outlaw Rovers.”

“Right. You met him?”

Justine gave up trying to play it cool, since there was no one in the store to witness her losing her shit. “Yes! It was… oh my
God
, Emily, he was
amazing
!”

“Amazing. Really.”

“Shut up. You just don’t get him.”

“And you do?”

“Do you want to hear this or not?” Justine snapped.

“Zipping my lips,” Emily said. “Proceed. With lots of details, please.”

“So he came to see our show on New Year’s Eve.”

“
Your
show?”

“Well, no, not exactly. He came to see Primal, this shitty band we opened for. And
he
didn’t come to see Primal, Ash did. He’s friends with the lead singer, Mick, which I don’t get at all, because Mick is so—”

“Wait. You met Ash Thoren, too?”

Justine sighed. Even Emily, the fine arts painter who didn’t own a TV, knew who Ash Thoren was. He was hard to miss. “Yes.”

“Is he—?”

“Yes, he’s tall and blond and hot and all the stuff you see online. Whatever. Emily, pay attention. He brought
Dillon
with him!”

“Right, right. Okay, so you finally met this Dillon guy. And then what?”

“And… he was amazing! So smart and interesting and Emily, he liked me! He saw me sing and he said I was the best thing in the band and—“

“I’ve been telling you you’re the best thing in your band for two years.”

“Yeah, but this is Dillon Pierce.”

“And no one knows who he is except you. Figures you’d go all obsessive about some random, anonymous guy in a band and completely ignore Ash Thoren. Even I’m hot for Ash Thoren and I don’t do golden rock gods.”

“Plenty of people know who Dillon is. He’s a genius.”

“So you’ve said.”

“He is. And guess what?”

“Do I want to hear this? Did you keep your clothes on? Please tell me you kept your clothes on.”

“Ughhh,
Emily
. Of course I did. My clothes were pretty tiny to start with, but they all stayed on. All we did was talk.”

Emily snorted in laughter.

“I’m serious! We talked. He asked me to come see his show tomorrow and then come back stage afterward.”

“Justine…” Emily sighed. “Seriously? Backstage passes like some sad little groupie? Don’t be that girl.”

“No. It wasn’t like that. We talked about music all night. My band, his latest album… music. That’s all.” Justine bit her lip to avoid spilling the beans about the kiss, the one she felt down to her feet and all through her hair. The one she could
still
feel.

“Still, he’s a rocker. They’re all the same.”

“Em—“

“Were there girls there?”

Justine was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she bit out between clenched teeth.

“Did he leave with them?”

“Well, they left with the band. And he went with them.”

“Then one of them probably gave him a blow job that night.”

“Emily—“

“Juss, you are so smart. You know how to handle these rock guys, you always have. I just don’t want to see you romanticize this guy and lose your head over him. Because you know it won’t go anywhere.”

“He liked me. It wasn’t about sex.” What Justine didn’t say was that it wasn’t
just
about sex, because sex had definitely been in the mix. There was the music connection, but there was also that other connection, the one fueling the brief, incendiary kiss at midnight. She knew she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

“Be careful. It sounds like you’re in way too deep already with this guy.”

“I just met him.”

“Yeah, but you’ve had a crush on him for ages.”

“You can’t have a crush on someone you don’t know.”

“Sure you can. Anyway, maybe you didn’t have a crush on
him
, but you certainly had a crush on his brain. Now it sounds like you might be sold on the rest of him, too.”

Justine ran her thumbnail along the groove between the glass top and the metal edge of the counter, saying nothing. There was nothing to say, really, because all of it was true. Emily always told her the truth, even when she didn’t want to hear it. The truth was she did have a crush on Dillon’s brain. She’d listened to the last Outlaw Rovers record obsessively, absorbing every lyric, every guitar lick, every nuance of the production, feeling inexplicably connected to the vision behind the music. Now she had met him in the flesh, and she was feeling just as connected to the man as she was to his music. It was definitely dangerous territory.