In Tune: The Road to Rocktoberfest 2022, page 2
“They were good, really good,” Luka reluctantly admitted. “Lost Apostles played their hearts out and the audience loved every minute.”
Frank darted back into the house and Luka shut the door behind him, following the dog into living room.
“Yeah? That’s great to hear. I know you guys were all nervous.”
“I was nervous for them. Dean is never nervous, and the rest of the guys seemed fine too.”
Maybe Dean was nervous, but it never showed.
“Even the new guy?”
“Yeah, Kyle Jones. He was great too. He fits in really well. I think even Milo would approve of him.”
Luka settled back into the couch and crossed his ankle on his knee. Frank gave him a calculated look before hopping onto the couch and curling up next to him. Dog friendly, Luka said to himself as he decided against trying to make Frank move down to his fancy dog bed.
“Have you talked to Milo lately? How’s he doing?” Ben asked.
Milo Zajac had been one of the original guitarists for Lost Apostles as well as done some vocals—he was also Luka’s something-something removed cousin. He’d left the band a year ago, fed up with their now ex-lead singer, and returned to his hometown of Hollyridge, only to find love with an old friend. Luka was insanely jealous.
“A couple days ago. He’s thinking about doing an acoustic show at one of the wineries in Hollyridge.”
“Ha!” Ben crowed. “I knew he couldn’t leave the scene forever.”
Luka shook his head, even though Ben couldn’t see him. “Nope, but I think he’s planning on keeping it small. No more big shows for him.” Milo was doing what Luka wanted to do. But he wouldn’t as long as Dean needed him.
“When are you coming back home?” The big question. “You have a guitar too, several of them, all waiting for you to play them,” Ben pointed out. “I bet Cody would love to have you play at the resort, if you want to. I can ask him.”
Ben was also one of the few who knew that Luka could play as well as Dean, but he liked to play in small venues where he could see the audience and feel the music. This wasn’t the first time Ben had suggested playing at Brooch Resort, but now Luka was starting to think maybe he would take him up on the offer sooner rather than later.
“There’s also the farmers market,” Ben continued. “They have a stage set up July through September.”
Frank snuggled deeper into Luka’s side, snuffling as he did so. Luka’s hand automatically landed on the dog’s back, and he began stroking his wiry coat.
“I’m thinking about it. I’m tired of this. I thought it would be better after having as much time off as we did.”
“Does Dean know?”
Luka barked out a harsh laugh. “I’ve talked about doing my own thing someday. But I don’t think he takes me seriously, or even hears me. It’s all white noise to him. And once the festival is over, he’ll be planning his wedding,” he finished glumly.
“Gag. Not that I’m against weddings.”
Ben had kind-of sort-of officially got together with his partner at a wedding just a couple weeks ago. There was a story there that Luka hadn’t heard yet.
“I know. You’re a good friend, Ben.”
There was indistinct noise on the other end of the line, then Ben said, “Henry says hi.”
Ben had met Henry Carr recently, yes, and he was almost fifteen years older than Ben, but he seemed perfect for him. Or Ben was perfect for Henry. Whichever, it had been a quick courtship, and Luka could tell Ben and Henry were together for the long haul. Even though he was happy for Ben, he was also jealous of his relationship. Everyone was with someone but him. He rolled his eyes at himself—poor sad Luka.
“Hi, back.”
“Marigold and Sage say hi too. Marigold says she’ll read your cards when you come home.”
Depending on who you asked, Ben’s mom was either popular or notorious on Piedras and throughout the surrounding islands. She called herself a hedge witch and read tarot cards as well as made potions, lotions, and fresh jams and jellies to sell at the farmers markets in the region. Luka suspected she was not so much a witch as very observant, and he didn’t want to know what she’d noticed about him.
It was ironic to Luka that he’d met Dean through Ben, one of the most even-keeled and reasonable people on the planet. And when it turned out Dean was from Hollyridge—where his cousin Milo lived—Luka’s mind had been blown. Dean and Ben were cousins, but where Ben had grown up on Piedras with Marigold, Dean was the offspring of Ben’s paternal aunt who, unfortunately, was a great deal like her brother.
As soon as he’d been deemed old enough, Dean had been shuffled off somewhere his mother didn’t have to deal with him so she could focus her attention on his older sister’s career in beauty pageants and then on to Hollywood. Pretty much proof that it was nurture over nature when it came to Dean’s big heart, at least in Luka’s mind.
Joke was on them because Dean was the one who’d made it, with no help from his family. All they ever did was come to him with their hands out. Luka spent as little time around Dean’s mother and sister as possible. Charlotte had made her opinion of Luka clear years ago.
“It’s too depressing, but tell her thanks for the offer.”
Luka’s phone beeped. Holding it away from his ear, he saw Dean’s name.
“Dean’s calling. I should take it.”
“Okay, friend, but one of these days you need to not ask ‘how high’ when Dean says jump.”
“I’ll talk to you in a couple days,” Luka said before switching to the incoming call.
“Luka! Where are you?”
“Obviously not wherever you are.”
Wherever Dean was, it sounded loud.
“We’re at… Where are we?” Luka heard Dean ask someone nearby.
Jerome’s deep voice came over the line. “Bronco Bill’s Billiards.”
Nope. Luka was not interested in going out and braving crowds, he’d done his part for the band already that night.
“Yeah… no. Frank and I are hanging out watching CSI reruns.”
Luka quickly used the remote to turn on the TV hanging on the wall across from the couch so he wasn’t actually lying. Jorja Fox’s face filled the screen as she thought deeply about something.
Dean was quiet for a moment before replying. “Text me the address again and I’ll grab a ride there. I’m kind of tired of all this.”
“What about Cassidy?”
Luka didn’t think she’d be happy that Dean chose to hang out with Luka instead of her.
“She’s not here. I think she went back to her hotel.”
She didn’t even stay in the same hotel as the band, for godsakes. At least Luka had an excuse. Chris wanted the band to stay together but since Luka was just a tech, he stayed with Frank.
“And she’s not gonna be pissed if you hang out with me?”
She would be if she knew. The way she watched the both of them when they were all together made Luka twitchy. Like she was seeing things she shouldn’t, except there was nothing to see. Luka loved Dean but he’d tucked his feelings away a long time ago, settling for friendship instead.
“Nah, she’s good,” Dean assured him. “Plus, I want to see my good boy.”
He crooned the last three words, and Luka swore Frank heard them because his ears perked up. Luka ignored the fact that his heart skipped a few beats too.
Another CSI was just starting when Dean knocked. Frank burst off the couch and rushed to the door like he knew who was on the other side.
Once inside, Dean fell to his knees on the carpet and greeted Frank by ruffling his ears and humming Strangers in the Night. This wasn’t enough for Frank, who definitely missed his person. Luka watched from the couch as the human and the dog wrestled for a few minutes—Dean cheating by tickling Frank’s stomach—until Frank couldn’t stand it anymore and had to run circles around the living room with his tail tucked between his legs while Dean lay on the floor laughing his head off.
Luka watched the shenanigans with a smile on his face but not really feeling it. What he wanted and what he couldn’t have were the same thing: Dean Blanchett.
Ben was right. It was time to go home. It was time to stop wishing for Dean to suddenly wake up and see Luka waiting for him.
“Can you two morons keep it down so I can figure out who did it?” Luka fake-complained.
Still laughing, Dean rose to his feet, his t-shirt and shorts rumpled and his long dark hair a mess, and staggered toward the couch, where he plopped down next to Luka.
Right next to Luka.
“Dude, gimme some space,” Luka bitched, poking Dean in the side with his elbow. “There’s couch enough for all of us.”
“Aw, quit griping. I like sitting next to you. Oh, hey.” His attention was caught by Grissom and another character standing together in a desolate parking lot, the red and white lights of first responders flashing across their faces as they considered the seriousness of the situation. “We’ve seen this one plenty of times. It’s the one where—”
“I know which one it is,” Luka interrupted. “Your point is?”
“Nothing.”
Dean still didn’t give him any room. In fact, he burrowed in closer to Luka as if he was cold. Dean had no sense of personal space when it came to Luka, which did nothing to help Luka stop the way he felt about his best friend. Frank, finished with running around, lapped water greedily from his bowl in the kitchen. Luka sighed and relaxed into the couch, letting himself enjoy the way Dean leaned into his side as Frank returned and got back up on Luka’s other side.
Dean snorted, his attention still mostly on the TV.
“What?” This gruesome scene wasn’t funny.
“What, what?” Dean repeated. “What time is it?”
“Are you twelve?”
“Maybe I am, but… it’s lunch time and you’re the sandwich.”
Dean squished in even closer, shoving him against Frank the Immovable. Frank just released a happy-dog sigh in response. Luka would too, if he dared, but mostly he had to focus on CSI so he wouldn’t get a hard-on.
“That is the lamest joke in the world. It’s not even stale, it’s moldy.”
Secretly though, Luka was happiest when he was the sandwich. Ugh, maybe he hadn’t pushed those feelings as far down as he’d intended. Luckily, Frank flopped over and laid his head in Luka’s lap, effectively hiding his stupid dick’s reaction to his oblivious and dorky best friend.
TWO
Late September
Dean
“Another incredible show, guys!” Chris pumped his fist and his broad smile took in all of them. “The buzz is hot, fans are excited, and I’ve heard tickets are selling fast for Rocktoberfest. Looks like the Saturday and Sunday shows are sold out already.”
His excitement was contagious even though they were all tired from the night before. Their schedule since that first show had been grueling, taking them up and down the coast: Napa, Seattle, Bellingham, Portland, Oakland, Sacramento, Napa again. They must’ve put three thousand miles on the bus.
They’d just finished watching video of last night’s show. It had been even better and tighter than that first Napa show.
This was just what they needed before October.
The entire band was hanging out in the suite Dean shared with Nick, hogging the couch and using the table to keep themselves upright. Dean’s head was pounding. Maybe he should’ve laid off the Evan Williams after the show like Luka had hinted.
Nah, he was adult, he could do what he wanted, and drinking never stopped Dean from playing. Chris said something and Dean shut one eye, concentrating on the manager’s words.
“I’m glad and all, but man, I am tired,” complained Jerome, who was taking up half the couch with his long legs. He’d been Dean’s partner in crime last night after the show. Together they’d hit all the clubs in Napa and then stumbled back to the hotel and kept the party going—maybe the party was still going? Had Chris escorted a couple girls out of the suite when he arrived?
Dean peered around—still using just one eye—but he didn’t see anyone he didn’t know. He also didn’t see Luka. Cassidy, he remembered, had stayed back in LA, something about a big work thing coming up.
Kyle and Nick muttered their agreement with Jerome. Everyone was tired, but musicians were a suspicious group and none of them wanted to take a break before Rocktoberfest. And there wasn’t one anyway; Chris had them scheduled almost right up to opening night.
Everything they’d done in the past few months—hell, since the beginning of the year—was prep for the upcoming show in the desert. Shining there would prove to the critics and naysayers that the Lost Apostles were back without missing a step.
“There’s no time to be tired, you can rest—”
“When we’re dead,” they all intoned together.
“Let’s just watch this bit one more time.” Chris took the recording back to around the middle the show. “I think you need to look out at the audience more, Kyle, make eye contact with someone out there. Make them yours.”
Dean tried to force himself to pay attention to the video, but it seemed out of focus. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. What he really needed was a couple hours of sleep. He glanced down at his vibrating phone while Chris’s attention was still on video-Kyle, draped over the mic and crooning the lyrics to Bring Me Home, but the incoming call wasn’t from Cassidy like he’d hoped. It was his sister and he had a pretty good idea what Channing wanted. He frowned, then sighed because a call from his sister would be followed up with a call from his mother.
He was wondering what Cassidy was up to when Chris looked over at him, eyes narrowed. Like a school kid caught talking in class, Dean whistled and slid his phone back underneath his thigh. No doubt his sister and mother would both call back. They’d call until he answered. He hated that he still felt a sense of responsibility for them.
Instead of letting his biological family ruin his good mood, he let his thoughts drift to Cassidy.
Their courtship had been a whirlwind to be sure. It wasn’t every day you met The One in the frozen food section of the grocery store because a stack of Digiorno pizzas spilled out across the aisle. Cassidy had helped him pick them up and put them back and—after scanning her hand for evidence she was taken—he’d asked her out. That had been in July.
“For pizza?” she’d enquired with the hint of a smile.
Dean had laughed, although he wouldn’t have said no to a pizza date.
“How about dinner and drinks? Pizza if you want.” He’d doubted she was the pizza type.
He’d been a little surprised she’d said yes. And it wasn’t until the end of their first date that Cassidy realized who Dean was.
“As in the band, Lost Apostles?” she’d asked, appearing slightly shocked.
“Yes, as in the band.”
Her already big blue eyes had widened. “Wow, this is perfect.”
A month later he’d asked her to marry him. The rest of the band—and Luka, of course—told him he was nuts, but Cassidy had been giving him all sorts of hints, and she’d said yes without hesitation.
When you knew, you knew.
Dean cringed inwardly as he remembered Sasha. Until you didn’t know anymore, and your girl threw everything in your face, proving once again just how worthless you were. Dean never seemed to be able to be enough to make people happy, to make anyone want to hang onto him—not his bio-family, not his past girlfriends.
But, he reassured himself, pushing aside the niggle of anxiety, Cassidy wasn’t like the ones before.
“Dean, are you even pretending to pay attention?” Chris asked sharply. “Anything you’d like to share with the rest of us?”
He put his hand back under the table. “Uh, nope.”
“Good.” Chris smiled and this time it wasn’t that nice. “You and Kyle will be fine chatting with Brina Talbot from TMZ. She’s waiting in the lobby. Don’t fuck this up.”
Dean and Kyle groaned in tandem.
“What did I do? Can’t you pick on somebody else?” Dean complained. He hated making small talk with the press.
“I hate talking to the press,” said Kyle, echoing Dean’s thoughts.
“Too bad. Keep her focus on the band and what’s coming next. Talk about what it’s like working with a new member, your favorite foods. Just keep it light and clean. Talk up RTR.”
Luka
“Just a few more days, Frankie, and we’ll be done traveling for a little while. We won’t have to live in sin together any longer. You’ll be back with your dad.” Frank wagged his tail slowly, giving Luka a naughty stare.
“And get down from there right now.”
Cocking his head as if weighing the pros and cons of obeying, Frank finally hopped down from the dining room table, graced Luka with another naughty look, and flounced to his dog bed, where he proceeded to stare at his leash hanging over the back of a chair. Luka rolled his eyes. Frank needed a walk, but he also needed some Dean time.
“You’re missing Dean, aren’t you?” Luka asked.
Frank was fond of him, Luka knew, but the ridiculous dog absolutely adored Dean. Luka often took care of Frank, even when the band wasn’t on tour, because Luka didn’t trust any old dog walker. But Frank’s heart belonged to Dean. Fine, whatever. When they weren’t touring, Luka and Dean spent most of their time together so it worked out. Between fiancés anyway.
He told himself he was glad to be the one to take care of Frank during fiancés because it meant he didn’t have to spend time with Dean and the flavor of the month. Rude? Yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Luka didn’t like Cassidy either and she knew it. Every time they were all together, she hung all over Dean as if she was proving a point.
Maybe she was.
Her point being that Dean was never going to pick Luka and he really needed to move on from these stupid feelings. He should have told Dean how he felt years ago, back in the beginning when he’d had an inkling the feelings were mutual, but no, he’d been too scared. And now it was too late because of reasons.
