Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

Tegan was an über-masculine gay dude. He was a couple of inches shorter than my six two and built like an inked Mack truck. He had shaggy light-brown hair, green eyes, and a close-shaven beard that mostly hid the jagged scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to the right side of his jaw. I’d witnessed that particular bar fight and could personally attest that the other guy didn’t fare nearly as well. Tegan had been a drummer for over a decade, and he was amazing. But he was also a muscular fitness freak who worked as a personal trainer and a bouncer when he wasn’t chasing the rock and roll dream with me. Tegan had options and sound instinct.

Me? At twenty-six, I was beginning to feel like I was running out of time. I wanted my shot at the big time more than I cared to admit. And I was dangerous when I got desperate. I made split-second decisions and tended to leap without securing my proverbial safety gear. That was pretty much what was unfolding tonight. I’d agreed that four band members would play, then showed up with two on the night that my ex and—

Oh, no. I felt blood drain from my face so fast, I thought I might pass out.

“You okay?” Tegan asked, pulling me away from the high table.

“No. Declan’s here too. This is definitely a setup.” I gulped.

Tegan cast a wary glance toward the bar. “I figured. Shake it off, Jus. We got this.”

“Do we? Fuck, this isn’t good.”

“Pull yourself together and take a deep breath. Relax.”

I pushed my six-string behind my back and swallowed around the bile in my throat as I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“That’s the spirit. It’s all about the music, man. The rest is just noise and—be cool. She’s coming this way,” he said before taking a swig of beer.

“Justin. Tegan. How are you?” Xena asked politely.

I gritted my teeth but somehow managed a civil nod. “Good.”

“What are you doin’ here?” Tegan asked.

“I was invited. Just like you. I bet Carmine is hoping for a round of fireworks…Justin style,” she purred with an evil laugh reminiscent of Cat Woman, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “I’ll behave if you do.”

“I always behave.” I flashed a tight smile that went nowhere near my eyes.

“We all know that’s not true, but you might want to tonight. There’s an important producer in the audience. Carmine thought it would be fun to show what’s left of Gypsy Coma before I perform my new stuff. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but it might be inspired. Publicity for all of us certainly can’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Break a leg.” Xena curled her red lips in a faux smile that went nowhere near her eyes, then snapped before adding, “I almost forgot. Declan says hi. We’ll see you guys after the show.”

I swallowed whatever I was about to say when Carmine stepped between us. Carmine was a skinny, shifty-eyed wisp of a man in his early sixties who used to play guitar in an LA punk band in the eighties. He’d rebranded himself as semi-relevant taste-maker with big Hollywood connections. Unfortunately, I hadn’t considered that those connections might work against me when I agreed to this. Carmine loved drama. What could be juicier than an impromptu battle of the bands featuring the dregs of Gypsy Coma?

Carmine rubbed his bony hands gleefully and bumped my shoulder. “No introductions needed here! Xena, hang tight. I want to introduce you to someone. Boys, you’re up first. Where’s Johnny?”

“In the bathroom,” I lied, pulling my guitar in front of me. “Don’t worry. We’re ready.”

“Wonderful,” Carmine said before stepping onto the stage to announce me.

I stared after them for a moment, then winced when Tegan pinched me. “Ouch.”

“Why did you lie to him?”

“I panicked. This doesn’t feel right.” I massaged the back of my neck and bit my bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Tegan agreed, stroking his jaw thoughtfully. “It doesn’t change anything, Jus. It’s a distraction, nothing more. We’ll get through their set, grab a drink after and—”

“No way. I’m not stickin’ around for that.”

“You cannot leave,” he said sternly.

“I’m a big boy, T. I get to do what I want. C’mere.” I inched closer to Tegan and spoke low enough for only him to hear above the din.

“What are you up to?” Tegan furrowed his brow before glancing toward the stage.

Carmine was an expert at revving up a small crowd. Any second now, he’d lift his right hand, signaling for the lights to dim and the spotlight to search the room before landing on the upcoming guest. Carmine’s brief hello doubled as a means to let whoever was working the booth know who was next. The gimmick smacked of campy late-night TV. It should have seemed ridiculous, but Carmine pulled it off with panache. His goofy eccentricities were part of his charm.