Page 151 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“Not a fan of metal music?” I ask him with a small smirk.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Didn’t think so. Well, I assume we’re heading up the stairs?” I ask, pointing behind him.

He hesitates, taking another look at our group. Clearly he doesn’t approve of how we’re dressed, even though we all tried as hard as we could to look presentable tonight. All this asshole sees is the long hair and tattoos and how awkward we stand here in our suits. Maybe we should’ve just dressed normally. It wouldn’t have made a difference in how we’re treated but at least then we’d be comfortable.

“Dave, come on,” Becks calls as James leads her up the stairs.

I try to ignore the stares. It’s not like I’m not used to it anyway. How many years have we all been judged on our appearance? Our attire? Our taste in music? I guess I just thought tonight would be different, but it isn’t.

Ultimately, I don’t care. I’m a successful musician with a certified gold album and another coming out in a few months that, if projections are correct, is also expected to hit gold. I have everything I could want and a woman who loves me. Why do I need the acceptance of these stuffy nobodies?

I shake the thoughts away, and as I come to the top of the red carpeted stairs, there’s a flurry of popping lights of photographers and journalists. I wonder wildly for a moment if Izzy is among them, if that’s the real reason she wanted to meet us here. One thing’s for sure, she works hard and sacrifices a lot to get a good story. Harold Lewis had no idea how much he struck gold with her.

As we hang around the bar I hear someone calling my name and look over the crowd to find a short dark haired woman waving at me.

“Dave!” she calls as she makes her way through the crowd.

“Señora Rodriguez,” I say, turning fully before she slaps her hands on either of my cheeks and plants two kisses on me.

“How many times do I have to tell you to just call meMá?”

Heat floods my face as I spy Key and Joel hiding their smiles. “Sorry,Má,” I say, awkwardly. “I won’t forget again.”

Two strong hands clap my back and I turn to find myself face to face with Izzy’s dad, Hector, complete with his never missing white stetson hat.

“Long time no see,” he says, clapping my back again roughly and making my knees buckle a little.

“Hector, how are you, sir?”

He scoffs. “No need to call me sir, Dave. We are practically family now.”

I smile. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Open bar?” He says looking past me. “Ay dios mío, that could spell trouble.”

Laughing as he passes me I turn back to Izzy’s mom, Carmen. “You look lovely tonight.” I say.

Her cheeks darken and her hand flits over the top of her sky high hair. “Such a charmer. My Isa had no chance of resisting you, did she?”

“No, m’am.”

She pats my cheek. “Speaking of, where is my—”

“I’m here! I’m here!”

And she sure is. Izzy steps toward us in a pale pink sequined gown with the most devastating neckline that reveals skin almost to her belly button. Somehow she still manages to make me feel like I’m seeing her for the first time—she’s beyond stunning. She’s the sun.

“Isa! Where is your sweater?” Carmen asks, pulling her own shawl off her shoulders and trying to wrap it around her daughter.

“Má, tranquila. I’m all grown up now,” she says.

“Yeah, you are,” I say under my breath.

Izzy turns a bright shade of pink while her mom huffs and rearranges her shawl back around her shoulders.

“Hi,” she says to me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t ride in the limo with you all.”

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