Page 69 of Counterpoint
Dom raised his head, held up his middle finger to his lips, then broke into a smile when the kids gasped and laughed. Then he let them take selfies with him and signed one girl’s arm.
At the next stop, he got off because he was close enough to walk to the studio without too much trouble. He stepped out into the bright day, tossed his hoodie back, and strode through the city on his way to their studio.
When he got there, Ray gave him a look. “Having a little fun?” He waved his phone with Instagram opened and photos of him and the kids on the subway displayed.
Dom shrugged. “Eh, it’s been a while.”
Mish snorted. “For someone who claims to hate the spotlight, you have such an odd fucking way of showing it.”
Zavier was silently fiddling with his drum kit, but he had the damn smile on his face.
“Look,” Dom said. “I kinda miss being Domino sometimes. And I canbein the spotlight as him.” He certainly couldn’t as Dominic.
“Actually, I’m glad for this.” Ray waved his phone again. “’Cause it’s good they’re seeing you out, too. There were some really weird rumors you’d been booted from the band.”
Dom laughed. He couldn’t help it. But once the absurdity had worn off, sobriety slipped in—the humbling kind. “Yeah, I guess I could see how people might think that.”
“But the more they see you—coming to the studio, going out with us, out on your own—the more those will go away. They’ll know you’re a part of the band.”
“I’ve been here the entire time!”
Zavier stood. “But not as Domino. And you’ve been enjoying your other life.”
Dom swung around, fear twisting up his spine. “What are you saying, Zav?”
He held up his hands. “Nothing in particular. Just that you haven’t melded these two sides of you.”
“I don’t intend to.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said and what that meant—keeping Adrian out of the loop permanently. Which wasn’t sustainable. He was going to lose Adrian in the end.
But the thought of the spotlight shining down on the Dominic that Adrian knew—and that light being trained on Adrian himself—tied Dom’s stomach into knots and had his heart pounding. It was as if he’d been transported back to that first time onstage behind Ray—as himself, not Domino. Ray could take the spotlight, the crowds, and the scrutiny. But could Adrian? Was it even fair to ask him to endure what he couldn’t without a disguise?
Dom couldn’t do it, not as Dominic. He thought he could, but he’d been wrong.
Zavier’s shoulders dropped. “Dom.”
“Don’t you start.” He rounded on them all. “Don’tanyof you start. It’s my life and my decision.” Even if a voice in the back of his head screamed that it was perhaps the most foolish one he’d ever made in his life.
“I can’t be Dominic and Domino at the same time.” He spoke softly, and peered at Ray, his oldest friend. The one that had been there in high school after that talent show, when he’d puked his nerves up into porcelain. “Ican’t. I’m not—” he gestured at himself “—built for rock-and-roll when you take all this shit off.”
Ray opened his mouth as if to say something, then must have thought better of it. But after another moment, he did speak. “You’re the best damn guitarist I know, Dom.”
The anger was ebbing, but the horror, the creeping along his veins at the thought of leaving Adrian started working up his body. “Can we just play? That’s what we’re here for, right?”
Mish clapped him on the back. “Get your guitar, sweetheart, and let’s get to work.”
Took a few songs to get out of his head and into the music, but once he did, Dom felt so much better. Didn’t matter if it was his electric or some three-hundred-year-old instrument—when there were strings under his fingers and notes in the air, everything in the world faded away.
It was like being onstage. Or in Adrian’s bed.
He didn’t fumble the next chord, or any of the ones after, even though his heart was in his throat and tears lurked behind his eyes.
Domino Grinder didn’t cry, and there was a saving grace to that.
* * *
He didn’t go to Adrian’s Friday night—that he spent as Domino, too. Dinner out with the band, then hitting Broadway for a show. He’d let Adrian know earlier in the week that he’d have to break their streak of Friday dinners. “It’s...um...work-related.”
“Ah,” Adrian had said, his voice thin over the phone. “I see. Well, I will miss you, certainly, but I know you do have a life outside of the one you share with me.”
