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Chelsea came into the room, waving her mobile phone over her head. If it didn’t have an antennae attached, I would swear she looked like she was going to throw a brick at someone’s head when she did that. It would be one more hour before Chelsea left for her much deserved two days off, but no one mentioned it. I had no idea, and Dale later said
“Got Greg on the phone, guys! He’s on speaker!” She hit a button on the phone and then said, “Go ahead, Greg. I’ve got them all rounded up for you.”
We were all there. Bear and Pixie were in the corner playing chess. Rick was on the other sofa, a ball cap pulled low on his head, napping. Terry was methodically removing the tabs off all of the empty soda cans and stacking them in a pyramid on the counter.
“Hey Black Diamond!” Greg called.
“Hi Greg,” we chorused, almost in sync.
“Got great news for you boys. I Will Always Come For You went double platinum this week.”
Dale sat bolt upright, staring the phone like it was an alien. Terry was so surprised he knocked over his entire soda can pyramid and they clanked to the tile floor, scattering everywhere. Rick sat up, gaping in Chelsea’s direction, cap in hand. Only Bear didn’t react. He was concentrating on the chess board.
“There’s more!” Greg sounded positively gleeful. Maybe he was in the market for a new Porsche and was wondering if he could buy it with his twenty percent. “Your album, Black Diamond, has gone platinum.”
The boys were on their feet, whooping and hollering. Dale jumped up onto the coffee table and did a dive onto the other couch, flopping on it like a fish. Terry and Rick high-fived and danced around in the midst of the empty soda cans, making a huge racket.
“How many is that?” I asked—yelled, really. I couldn’t hear over the noise.
Chelsea came closer, grinning. “Ask him again.”
“How many is that?” I yelled into the receiver.
“Platinum is a million!” Greg’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Double platinum is two million.”
It was a good thing I was still sitting down. I think I would have fallen down if I hadn’t been. Dale jumped from his sofa to my sofa and then pounced on me like a cat. I laughed and he kissed me all over my face and then, just for good measure, licked me too, right up the side of my cheek.
“Ewww!” I wiped my cheek with the end of my t-shirt—I always wore Black Diamond t-shirts on concert days, and it was a double bonus, because I was also advertising my own art work at the same time.
“Shamu kiss!” Dale called, doing it again, this time on the other cheek.
Chelsea was laughing, sandwiched between Terry and Rick jumping up and down and trying to kiss her, holding out the phone.
“Dale!” she called. “He wants to talk to you!”
Dale grabbed the phone, turning it off speaker and flopping down on the other couch, on his back.
“Hey Greg, my main man, my favorite man in the whole damned world, whattya say?”
I smiled, turning around to look at Bear and Pixie, still involved in their chess game.
“Hey, didn’t you hear?” I called over.
“I heard.” Bear moved his knight, glancing up at me. “Awesome.”
I laughed, shaking my head. Dale always said, “Drummers are weird.”
“We need beer!” Terry told Chelsea. “Lots of it.”
“And champagne!” called Pixie.
“Your wish is my command!” Chelsea laughed, going over to the couch and holding out her hand. “My phone, rock star, I need my phone.”
Dale sat up, handing it over. His mood had shifted completely but no one else noticed except me.
“What is it?” I went over to him on the couch.
“Tell you later.” He shook his head, watching the rest of the band laughing, celebrating. Bear had finally come over to join in, having captured Pixie’s queen. Something was wrong—Dale smiled and joined them. He even popped the top on the champagne and proceeded to pour the foam all over Bear’s head—which, of course, necessitated a wardrobe change for my most difficult to dress band member! Dale looked fine on the surface—but I just knew something wasn’t right.
