Opening Act

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Authors: Dish Tillman

BOOK: Opening Act
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Text copyright © 2014 Dish Tillman. Design © 2014 Ulysses Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (including but not limited to photocopying, electronic devices, digital versions, and the Internet), without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Published in the United States by

Ulysses Press

P.O. Box 3440

Berkeley, CA 94703

www.ulyssespress.com

ISBN 978-1-61243-341-7

Library of Congress Control Number 2013957409

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Acquisitions Editor: Katherine Furman

Managing Editor: Claire Chun

Copyeditor: Andrea Santoro

Proofreader: Elyce Berrigan-Dunlop

Cover design: what!design @
whatweb.com

Cover photographs: man and woman ©
Coka/fotolia.com
; title background ©
Dimec/shutterstock.com

Part title illustration: ©
JelenaA/shutterstock.com

Distributed by Publishers Group West

This novel is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance or similarity to any real person, living or deceased, or any real event is purely coincidental.

CONTENTS

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

PART TWO

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

PART THREE

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1

Loni was having the loveliest dream. It was set sort of in the nineteenth century—except she drove her car to the café—and she was having tea with William Blake. (Well…
she
was having tea. He was drinking something green from a vial, which made him shudder after every sip. He offered some to Loni, but she said no thank you.) As they drank, the great poet instructed her on the trouble with her life. “There is no space left for the silences,” he warned her. “And in the boom and clangor of your waking world, madness stirs, and rises, and ventures forth to claim you. Listen,” he said, holding a finger aloft and looking outward. “It comes. It
hungers
.” And Loni listened, and she could hear it:
thoom…thoom…thoom…

Thoom-thoompa-thoom, tha-thoom
, it continued, and Loni thought that was a little dancey for the tread of a doomsday beast. She rolled over, and a sharp blade of sunlight pried under her eyelids. She tried to shake it away, but it held fast. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was awake, but the
thoom-thoompa-thoom, tha-thoom, tha-thoom
persisted.

It was Zee's freakin' speakers. Right up against the wall their bedrooms shared. Now that she was up, she could even feel the wall vibrate.

She got out of bed, pulled the oversize T-shirt she slept in down around her thighs from where it had ridden up during the night, stormed out into the corridor, and banged on Zee's door.

Zee opened it; she was fully dressed but only half made-up. One eye was lushly outlined, the other naked and pale. She held an eyeliner brush in her hand. “Morning,” she said brightly. “Whassup?”

Loni could barely contain her anger. “Do you
have
to play your music so
loud,
and so
early
?” she said, gritting her teeth. “I mean, does it not occur to you that
someone
may be trying to
sleep
?”

Zee looked perplexed. She gestured at the knob on her stereo receiver. “It's only on four,” she said. “Plus, it's, like, almost ten o'clock.”

Loni felt the anger begin to wash out of her. “It is?”

Zee nodded, cocked her head toward the digital clock on her wall, then went back to her mirror and resumed applying her eyeliner. “You really should get a job or something. As for me, I've got an interview at eleven.”

Loni was reluctant to let go of her fury. “Well, fine. But for the record, the volume may only be on four, but four is
too loud
.”

Zee looked at her and sighed, then reached over and dialed down the knob. The music receded into a kind of raucous whisper. “That's one-and-a-half,” she said. “Work for you?”

Loni folded her arms. “It's like a hive of bees, but I'll take it. I just don't see why you have to fill every hour of every day with this…
noise
,” she said, snubbing her nose at the cradle holding Zee's iPod.

Zee laughed as she put away her eyeliner. “You knew I was a music lover before you moved in. I mean, you
knew
that. You used to give me crap about it, make fun of me. Told me I spent all my money on concerts and downloads. And now you move in with me, and you're
surprised
I play music all the time?”

“I wouldn't mind
music
,” Loni said, still standing firm but watching jealously as Zee donned a crisp blue blouse and fastened its buttons. “It'd be nice to, I don't know, wake up to a Debussy étude or a Bach invention. But this hard-rock garbage…”

Zee laughed as she donned a trim suede jacket. “This isn't
hard rock
,” she said, emphasizing the words as if she couldn't believe someone had actually said them. “It's indie folk rock, if it's anything.
Grief Bacon
by Overlords of Loneliness.”

And in fact, Loni was starting to recognize it now. It wasn't difficult—it was the album Zee had been playing more or less nonstop for the past nine days.

“And,”
Zee added as she slung her bag over her shoulder, “you'll remember, please, you promised to go with me to their farewell gig tomorrow night.”

“I remember,” Loni said, annoyed with herself for having agreed to go. It had been a weak moment, one night after a few too many cocktails and too much soul-sharing. It was so easy to get too wrapped up in a roommate's life.


And
the after-party,” Zee said as she headed for the door.

Loni moved aside to make way for her. “Surely you're not going to hold me to
that
.”

Zee whirled on her. “The after-party is the whole
point
. This is my last chance to meet Shay Dayton before he goes off on their big nationwide tour. By the time they come back home, they won't be a local band anymore—they'll be
famous
. I won't be able to get anywhere
near
them.” She fetched her keys from her bag. “I've been their fan since
day one
. I deserve a little private time with them before they go mega.”

Loni furrowed her brow. “But you already know the drummer. You went for coffee with him. You
told
me.”

Zee flapped her bag shut again. “Right. But I haven't met Shay Dayton.”

“Shay Dayton. That's the singer, right?”

Zee rolled her eyes, incredulous that anyone wouldn't know this. “Yes, Loni. He's the front man. Welcome to our planet. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”

“But wait.” Loni followed Zee to the door of the apartment. “You went for coffee with the drummer. That's kind of a date.”

“No, it's not. It was purely platonic.”

“Does
he
know that?”

“How should I know?”

Zee reached for the doorknob, but Loni put her hand on the door. “Let me get this straight. You threw yourself at this drummer guy—”

“I did not
throw
myself at him. I—”

“You told me how you met. You
threw
yourself. Then he invited you out for coffee, now he's invited you to the after-party for this concert, and you're telling me the whole point of this, all along, was to use him so you could meet
another guy
?”

“Not ‘another guy,' ” said Zee, gently removing Loni's hand from the door. “Shay Dayton.” She looked Loni straight in the eye.
“Shay. Effing. Dayton.”

“You're a menace,” Loni said with an appalled laugh. “This poor drummer. What a dupe.”

“He'll be fine,” Zee said with a dismissive wave. “He's going on tour with the country's hottest new band. He'll have women falling all
over
him.” She opened the door. “Wish me luck on my interview.”

“Who's it with?”

“Optometrist. Clerical support.”

“Sounds…exciting.”

Zee laughed. “God, you're an awful liar!” She blew Loni a kiss and strode out of the apartment.

Loni went and sat on her bed for a few minutes, wondering how she could fill her day. There was nothing on the agenda. She had no compelling reason to even get dressed. She could, if she wanted to, sit on the couch and stare at the TV all day.

But she didn't want that. Trouble was, she didn't know what she
did
want.

It had been a full month since she'd gotten her bachelor's degree in Romantic Poetry, a degree that suited her for pretty much zero in the real world. Her only realistic option was to continue as an academic, get her master's, and teach. She even had a patron who was willing to help her out: Byron Pennington, her first poetry professor, who had shepherded her through her degree and had now invited her to be his teaching assistant while she worked through a graduate program. It was a very attractive offer; she was lucky to have it. Most people in her position would jump at it. And she might never find anyone else in her life who was as supportive and encouraging as Byron. She'd be a fool to turn him down.

Plus, she couldn't live with Zee forever. She'd intended to move in for only a few weeks, till she figured out what to do about her future. But she was no closer to a solution now than she had been when she first got there. And though Zee was being very patient and generous—Loni could only afford a pittance for rent—it was tough on them both. They'd been best friends in high school, but then Loni had gone on to college and Zee hadn't. She'd jumped right into 9-to-5 employment, mostly at the administrative support level. They hadn't seen each other much during Loni's college years, and now their world experiences were vastly different. It was getting harder and harder for them to find common ground.

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