for us,” he said.
“Now, Ash—”
“No, Mark. You’re not understanding me. That’s the band. And do you know why?” Ash paused for dramatic effect, but Mark was too intimidated to say anything. “Because Dillon here has better taste in music in his pinkie fingernail than you do in your entire worthless brain. So if he says this is the band, do you know what you say?” Another pause, during which Mark didn’t make a sound. “You say thank you, because I can guarantee you’d never stumble on that kind of musical revelation on your own. Are we clear?”
Mark was silent for another moment, and then he cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, what you’ll do is make sure they’re booked. Now are we clear?”
Mark sighed. “Ash—”
“Are we clear?” Ash’s voice, the bombastic low register he only unleashed on stage, nearly shook the framed posters on the wall.
“Yeah, we’re clear. The label won’t be happy. You should know that.”
“The label can kiss my ass.” Ash said, turning away dismissively.
Mark ran a hand through his hair, then shoved to his feet and stormed out of the room.
Rocky was the first one to speak into the silence. “The label can kiss my ass, Ash?”
“Well, they can!” he shouted. “And that asshole can get on his knees and pucker up first.”
Rocky raised his eyebrows. “True, he is a dick.”
“Here’s to sticking it to the assholes,” JD said, raising his beer in a toast. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Dillon.”
Dillon opened his mouth, but Ash cut him off. “He does. Dillon always knows. And he’s always right.”
Dillon smiled. “Thanks, Ash. Thanks for going to bat for me.”
“Anything for you, my brother.”
That was why. No matter how much shit Ash dragged him into, or how many times he had to bail him out of trouble, when it mattered, Ash would always go to the mat for him. And was always there for Ash, too. As long as they had each other’s backs, they could handle anything this new world threw at them.
“Justine?”
“Hey, Dillon.” Justine pinned the phone under her cheek as she turned back to the mirror, finishing her mascara. Next to her reflection, she could see David look up from his phone, his expression dark and unreadable.
“You playing tonight?”
“In just a few minutes. What’s up?”
“Look, you’re going to get the call from management tomorrow, but I wanted to give you the news first.”
She scowled at herself in confusion. “What news?”
“We want you guys to open for us on the tour.”
She made a little choked sound and then swallowed to clear her throat. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, dead serious.”
She paused before she asked the next question, not wanting to, but needing to. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have made them do it if I wasn’t.”
Leaning forward on her elbow, she pressed her fingers against her forehead and lowered her head, blocking David and the boys out of her peripheral vision. “It’s just… I know you’re not exactly… that you don’t necessarily think… shit.”
He chuckled. “You mean I don’t think your band is half as talented as you are?”
“Yeah, that.”
“They’re not un talented. And believe me, you’ll more than make up for what they lack.”
She smiled. “Well, okay then. As long as you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“So they’ll call tomorrow?”
“Yeah, they’ll give you all the details. I’m really excited about this, Justine.”
“Me, too. And Dillon? Thank you. You have no idea what this means to us.”
After she’d said goodbye, she spun around to face the boys, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Guess what?”
“You’re going to be Miss February,” Eddie deadpanned without looking up from his phone.
“Shut up, asshole. And we’ve talked about this. It’s Playmate of the Year or nothing.”
Eddie laughed and she slapped at his thigh.
David sighed. “So what’s the
“Now, Ash—”
“No, Mark. You’re not understanding me. That’s the band. And do you know why?” Ash paused for dramatic effect, but Mark was too intimidated to say anything. “Because Dillon here has better taste in music in his pinkie fingernail than you do in your entire worthless brain. So if he says this is the band, do you know what you say?” Another pause, during which Mark didn’t make a sound. “You say thank you, because I can guarantee you’d never stumble on that kind of musical revelation on your own. Are we clear?”
Mark was silent for another moment, and then he cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, what you’ll do is make sure they’re booked. Now are we clear?”
Mark sighed. “Ash—”
“Are we clear?” Ash’s voice, the bombastic low register he only unleashed on stage, nearly shook the framed posters on the wall.
“Yeah, we’re clear. The label won’t be happy. You should know that.”
“The label can kiss my ass.” Ash said, turning away dismissively.
Mark ran a hand through his hair, then shoved to his feet and stormed out of the room.
Rocky was the first one to speak into the silence. “The label can kiss my ass, Ash?”
“Well, they can!” he shouted. “And that asshole can get on his knees and pucker up first.”
Rocky raised his eyebrows. “True, he is a dick.”
“Here’s to sticking it to the assholes,” JD said, raising his beer in a toast. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Dillon.”
Dillon opened his mouth, but Ash cut him off. “He does. Dillon always knows. And he’s always right.”
Dillon smiled. “Thanks, Ash. Thanks for going to bat for me.”
“Anything for you, my brother.”
That was why. No matter how much shit Ash dragged him into, or how many times he had to bail him out of trouble, when it mattered, Ash would always go to the mat for him. And was always there for Ash, too. As long as they had each other’s backs, they could handle anything this new world threw at them.
“Justine?”
“Hey, Dillon.” Justine pinned the phone under her cheek as she turned back to the mirror, finishing her mascara. Next to her reflection, she could see David look up from his phone, his expression dark and unreadable.
“You playing tonight?”
“In just a few minutes. What’s up?”
“Look, you’re going to get the call from management tomorrow, but I wanted to give you the news first.”
She scowled at herself in confusion. “What news?”
“We want you guys to open for us on the tour.”
She made a little choked sound and then swallowed to clear her throat. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, dead serious.”
She paused before she asked the next question, not wanting to, but needing to. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have made them do it if I wasn’t.”
Leaning forward on her elbow, she pressed her fingers against her forehead and lowered her head, blocking David and the boys out of her peripheral vision. “It’s just… I know you’re not exactly… that you don’t necessarily think… shit.”
He chuckled. “You mean I don’t think your band is half as talented as you are?”
“Yeah, that.”
“They’re not un talented. And believe me, you’ll more than make up for what they lack.”
She smiled. “Well, okay then. As long as you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“So they’ll call tomorrow?”
“Yeah, they’ll give you all the details. I’m really excited about this, Justine.”
“Me, too. And Dillon? Thank you. You have no idea what this means to us.”
After she’d said goodbye, she spun around to face the boys, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Guess what?”
“You’re going to be Miss February,” Eddie deadpanned without looking up from his phone.
“Shut up, asshole. And we’ve talked about this. It’s Playmate of the Year or nothing.”
Eddie laughed and she slapped at his thigh.
David sighed. “So what’s the
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