Page 28 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

A shiver races up my spine to the crown of my head and his blue eyes shine in the light of the sun. “So, how do you break the rules? Be bad?”

I ask because the journalist in me would find the answer interesting. But I also ask because the woman inside of me is dying to know what Dave Noblar does when no one is watching.

“On the record?” he asks.

Right. He’s only viewing this as an interview. “Yes.”

He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Well, like with the other guys, there’s a lot of anger inside of me.”

This makes me pause. “Anger?” Somehow the image of Dave being angry is a foreign concept. Unimaginable. He’s so bright.

He nods. “I think that’s what ultimately connects all of us to metal music. Being angry and needing a way of dealing with it. We work that darkness out through our drums and guitars. By screaming into a microphone rather than getting ourselves into trouble.”

I lean against the brick wall next to him and inch my body closer. “And what does Dave Noblar get angry about?”

Something dark flashes across his face for an instant but then it’s gone. It’s not scary, per se, but it’s disarming, and I fight against the chill that has suddenly crept into the air. But then he smirks at me, and I feel a touch warmer. “Afraid I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with a journalist. Even off the record.”

Nodding, I cross my arms. Okay, he’s not willing to open up about that, but maybe one day he might. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I’m just surprised. It’s hard to imagine you being angry at anyone.”

He holds my gaze as he inhales his cigarette. “There’s a lot about my life that I’m not particularly proud of. Things I’m still trying to let go of—things that haunt me.”

“Oh.”

He leans forward with a coy smile, the smell of him overwhelming me. “What about you? Why did you turn into a Disco queen? Anything haunting you?”

At first, it sounds like an insult. That because of my stupid taste in music I can’t possibly understand what he means. But the way he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away, makes me think otherwise.

“Disco music is happy. It makes me happy. And . . . I need that. It brings people together and after I left home, I was lonely. It helped.” I shrug.

He takes a final drag of his cigarette and flicks away the butt before blowing the smoke up into the air. “Why’d you leave home?” he asks.

I try to keep my gaze locked on his. “Afraid I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with a drummer. Even off the record.”

He grins. Maybe he’s amused or maybe he’s intrigued because I’m not as open a book as I can seem at first glance. But damn, that smile is magic and makes me want to spill my secrets andfears and desires all over the sidewalk for him to sift through as he pleases.

“Come on,” he says, jutting his chin toward the door. “I’ll give you a private tour of how an album gets recorded. That should please your editor, right?”

I grin back, and as he opens the door for me, I laugh. “Definitely.”

CHAPTER 10

Call Me

ISABELLA

Ifrown and grip the phone. My chest tightens as I disappoint my mother by telling her I won’t be home for Thanksgiving. Just how many times can I let someone down before they give up on me?

“What do you mean, Isa?” she says, her voice choked with emotion.

I sigh. “I had to finish my internship applications so now I’m way behind on work for all my other classes. This last semester before work placements is so important. Plus, Randall has me answering the phones because almost everyone who calls wants to ask about the band I’m writing about every week. I’ve just been so busy that I can’t risk leaving to come home now.”

“Pero—”

“You know that if I come home, I won’t have any privacy or quiet time to do my work.”

Silence. She knows I’m right. One thing my family is not, is quiet.

“Besides, if I’m there, I won’t want to do work. I’ll just want to hang out with you.”

---