A/N: This chapter is about a million times better than it started out being thanks to my brilliant beta, TruceOver. In addition, Kate and faite-comme-moi provided much-needed suggestions for improvement. The usual disclaimers apply. Rated M for M/M slash.

The Times (London): New Beginnings Worth the Wait. After a year without a single recording, Edward Cullen's latest CD, New Beginnings, marks a decidedly upbeat change of direction. The Times' Kaya Burgess spoke with the piano virtuoso as he prepared for his upcoming Duchy Originals/New Beginnings tour of a dozen Commonwealth nations...

-ICL-

February 6

I can't believe it's February already. The hot weather guy from Channel 7 tells us that this has been the mildest winter since 1870 or something. I'm not really sure, because I'm usually too busy staring at his lips to listen to what he's actually saying. All I know is that this time last year we were still digging out from under the Snowpocalypse, and tonight it's a very tolerable 45 degrees Fahrenheit. Not bad for Chicago in February.

January just disappeared in an exhausting, exhilarating blur. Riley, James, and I get together to practice at Monica's almost every day, but it never seems like enough. We're getting reading to begin our fourth Monday-night performance at Katerina's, and we're still so shaky that it's almost embarrassing at times.

In any case, Kate hasn't fired us yet, so maybe we are improving a little. And she's not likely to either, as long as she's still making money from our little video misadventure. We keep adding to our repertoire every week as she demanded, and tonight marks the debut of our first original song. It's not quite as polished as we'd like, but I guess it, like anyything else, will get better with practice.

"Jasper!"

Alice is the only one who injects a squeal like that into my name. She and Garrett are sitting at the bar, waiting for me. They asked meet them an hour before we go on, so here I am.

Alice reaches into a handbag that's almost as big as she is and pulls her iPad from its depths. She displays Katerina's website and taps angrily on the screen.

"I can't stand it, Jasper. This is the worst publicity since... since..."

"Since the Pied Piper arrived in Hamelin," Garrett interjects. He's big on fairy tales, but he does tend to get carried away at times.

"What are you talking about, Alice?"

"What am I talking about? Haven't you seen this?" She clicks on a link, then waves the iPad in front of my face.

Monday Madness at Katerina's

Now appearing

Chicago's Own

The Dust Covers

Live

Jasper Whitlock (guitar, piano, and vocals), Riley Biers (bass guitar), and James Hunter (percussion)

The Dust Covers uncover their eclectic musical groove for a limited engagement

following their recent appearance here with piano virtuoso Edward Cullen.

Exclusively at Katerina's

1920 West Irving Park Road

8 p.m. & 10 p.m.

Reservations Suggested

It seems like I'm not the only one flipping out over the way Kate keeps abusing Edward's unexpected appearance. She even has the nerve to use a screen shot from one of the infamous videos that includes Riley, James, me – and Edward. And the wording is insulting.

Even so, it's clear that business has picked up considerably since the video debacle. Not that Kate doesn't deserve it; she always brings in a variety of talented musicians and frequently has a full house, even on weeknights. However, our first appearance was quite an eye opener. The place was packed, and a substantial number of people had to be turned away. Riley, James, and I are still kind of shocked by it all. Not that we won't enjoy our little bubble of local notoriety while it lasts.

"Yeah, I know," I reply. "It makes me feel kind of sick. I've tried to talk to her about it, but I get nowhere. Kate is one stubborn woman." I shudder to think of what the smack-down would be like between Katerina Denali and Rosalie Hale if Rosalie ever finds out how Kate is exploiting this, although part of me would love to see it. And I am all too aware of the limited engagement mentioned in the announcement, conscious that Kate has not said anything specific about how many Mondays we will actually be performing. At first, I was too naïve to ask. Now I don't really want to know. I'm just grateful for what we have right now. I guess we'll just keep doing this until she tells us to stop.

"It's tragic. Absolutely terrible," Alice laments. "Who the hell did she hire to put that thing together anyway? Kindergartners? I swear to god, toddlers could have done a better job. The alignment is off, the font size is all wrong. Don't even get me started on the color scheme. You have to convince Kate to let us fix it."

Alice and Garret are in the process of setting up a graphic design company together. He insists on calling it the Shoemaker and the Elves, after the fairy tale about helpful elves who secretly assist a poor shoemaker and his wife. Garrett is the Shoemaker – his last name is Schumacher, actually – but there's only one elf at the moment. That would be Alice, of course, but they like to think big.

"Okay, Ms. Elf." I can't help but roll my eyes as I say it, knowing about Garrett's proclivities. He's come up with a clever name for their company, but I don't even want to think about what it means for them as a couple.

"Don't knock it until you try it, Jasper."

"Yeah? Um, no." I don't need to try having sex with a girl to know that an elf fetish isn't for me either. Just the thought of Edward dressed up as an elf makes me want to bleach my brain.

The look on my face must be more grossed out than understanding, because Alice swats my arm and glares, then turns the tables on me.

"Well, genius, how the hell did you guys come up with the name for the Dust Covers anyway?"

I sigh. "I don't have time for this, Alice." Well, that's not exactly true, but I really don't want to explain our lame choice of a name. It seemed like a good idea at the time. We started as a cover band, brushing the dust off some of our favorite oldies and putting them back into circulation again. But for a while now, we've been itching to do something more original, and tonight's the night.

"Quit stalling and tell me. How can we create a better image for you if we don't understand your roots?"

Alice still feels partly responsible for the video fiasco. She was the one who started filming our set with Edward, using the camera in his cell phone. She passed the phone to Garrett when she made a quick trip to the ladies' room and then promptly forgot all about it until Kate's assistant handed it back to her while Edward and I were in the men's room.

We began putting the pieces together a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, no sooner had Alice closed the restroom door when Kate's assistant appeared at the table, offering to finish the filming from the other side of the stage. Garrett thought this had all been prearranged and gave Edward's phone to the assistant without hesitation. Then he too forgot about it in the ensuing emotional meltdown after Edward played his solo piece dedicated to Seth.

To make up for their part in all this, Alice and Garrett have offered their services as graphic designers to the Dust Covers.

"Spill," she presses. She is relentless.

"Well," I begin," you know how we always talk about how we want to write some original material?"

She nods.

"But when we first got together, we didn't have any original material, so we started by covering other people's songs."

"What about the Dust?" she asks.

"Um, maybe it's because we dust off some oldies and make them sound new again?"

"You say that like you're not sure," Alice observes with a laugh. "Is that the best you can do?" Now it's her turn to roll her eyes and then roll up her sleeves. "Well, here's what Garrett and I have come up with so far."

She then pulls up a test site on her iPad. "Here are a couple ideas for a website, with space for your appearance schedule, a blog, and your original music. We'll get you going on Twitter, and also help you set up some promotional activities with a few more bloggers, radio stations and other media."

I had mentioned to her how a couple of local music bloggers wrote about us after our first Monday-night performance, and she ran with it. The bloggers gave us high marks for effort and technique, but they were unanimously thumbs down about our lack of original material. Well, that would change tonight.

I'm a little overwhelmed by how much they've done. "What about Facebook?" I ask.

"I can certainly put together a Facebook page for you, but frankly, I'd really rather concentrate on your website right now," Alice admits. "We'd like to do a couple of photo shoots around Chicago and videos of you here at Katerina's. We'll start with a test video tonight." She hands me three folders containing paper copies of their proposal, and I promise to give them to the guys and get their feedback ASAP.

This is far more sophisticated than anything we've ever done before – so much better than those videos made by James's sister, or the homemade flyers that we photocopied and posted on utility poles in our neighborhoods and on supermarket bulletin boards.

"This is too much, Alice. I know you offered to do this, but I wish we could afford to pay you something for all that work."

"You don't have to, Jasper," she responded. "I'd just like to get permission from the three of you to include anything we create for you as part of our sample kit to show to prospective customers," she said.

"Of course."

"And I'd like you to introduce us to Kate."

"That I can do," I tell her. I'm willing to bet that Alice and her elf-boy will be doing work for Kate in no time. "But right now you'll have to excuse me for a minute."

It's nearly time for our first set, but there's no sign of Peter. After almost a month of silence, he has finally managed to fit us into his schedule. But he's late, which is very unusual for him.

I ask at the hostess stand, but no one has seen him. I send a text – where r u? – and get an almost immediate reply: Cum outside & c 4 yourself.

I step out into the cool night, grateful that there has been virtually no snow since that damn blizzard before Christmas. I am astonished to see the line of people waiting to get in. It stretches past the Ancient Dragon Meditation Center next door, past Fast Super Burrito beyond that, and all the way to Dr. Siegel's Eyecare Center. I walk toward the end of the line, looking for Peter, when he suddenly appears in front of me.

It's been more than six weeks since I last saw him, and he looks better than ever.

"Dude!" he exclaims as he wraps his arms around me and I almost drop Alice's folders so that I can do the same thing. Instead, I end up giving him an awkward one-armed hug and a quick kiss before he puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me at arm's length. "What the hell happened to you?" he asks with a laugh.

I look at him, perplexed for a moment, before I remember the band's little makeover last month, courtesy of Kate. Ambitious control freak that she is, she insists that we maintain a certain look if we're going to be performing regularly. She's very specific about it too: no sagging jeans and no flannel. T-shirts are okay as long as they're not ripped. She even sent us to her stylist for a haircut and a shave a couple of days before our first performance. She doesn't mind scruff, she claims, as long as it's tidy.

Even though I agree that we shouldn't look like hobos, we aren't about to make ourselves into the Partridge Family. I do like my new haircut though. The sides and back are cut short but the top is still long. Tonight it's pulled up into a nifty little top-knot. James now shaves regularly, having given up the beard he likes to grow every winter. Fortunately, because of the mild winter, he hasn't complained... much. He insists on keeping his ponytail, even though it still looks like a hogtied mullet. Riley doesn't need much in the way of improvement beyond an occasional trim and a bit of styling; he's always been adorable. If he'd ever shown the slightest inclination of batting for my team, I would have tapped that a long time ago. Too bad that's never gonna happen.

"It's about time you showed up," I complain. After I finished my Santa gig at the mall, he had left a slew of voice mails and texts right up until New Year's Day, and then I didn't hear from him again until yesterday, when he called and said he'd be here tonight. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Well," he says evasively, "I was waiting for you guys to get your act together first, so I wouldn't have to suffer too much listening to you."

"No guarantees, man. We're trying some new material tonight, and I'm afraid we're gonna suck big time."

"Well, I guess I'm not the only one planning on doing some sucking tonight." His dark eyes gleam in the low light at the entrance to the restaurant and my body responds the way it always does when I'm around him.

I sigh. "Quit it, Pete. You can't do this to me, not right now anyway. I have enough to deal with tonight without sporting a boner on stage too," I mock-complain. He just squeezes my ass and laughs as we head for the bar. I introduce him to Alice and Garrett, taking a quick look at my watch. I can hear Riley and James warming up.

We're due to go on in a couple of minutes, and Kate has a hissy fit if we start late. I leave the elf, the shoemaker, and my hot date at the bar and hurry to the tiny stage to get ready. Riley, who is usually the most laid back of the three of us, is practically crackling with nervous energy. He's been inspired to write a lot of songs since he met Monica, but he's so anxious tonight that he asked her to stay home.

"Jasper? James? I need to ask you guys for a favor." Riley is sweating buckets. James looks at me, and I can see that he's worried about Riley too.

"Ri, are you gonna pass out, or hurl or something?" I ask.

"No. I'm fine, I think." He stands stock-still, and looks like he's doing an internal assessment, checking out all of his bodily functions. "I should probably pee before we start," he amends, then continues. "I just want to ask if we can do my song first. If I have to wait until we do the encore, I'm definitely gonna hurl."

James tries to cover up a laugh, but I just shake my head at the thought of him puking. On stage. While being videotaped.

"Of course we can do your song first."

It's an odd little love song. He calls it "Save Your Love for Me." I don't really understand why he asked Monica to stay away tonight, because we've been practicing it at her place every night for the past week. She's cool about it though. I guess it helps just knowing that someone has written a song for you, even if he doesn't want you to hear him sing it in public.

Kate comes out of the kitchen at 8:00 on the dot and launches immediately into her little spiel.

"These three guys made their debut here in December with Edward Cullen on piano. Now they are our current Monday Madness featured performers. Please welcome The Dust Covers." There's a smattering of polite applause, but I can hear Alice, Garrett, and Peter cheering from the bar. It makes me smile as I try not to roll my eyes at Kate's unceasing, blatant abuse of Edward's name for her own glorification.

Making a gracious gesture in our direction, she steps away from the microphone, and we launch into the song without any additional introduction.

My head's a tambourine, my kidney's filled with stones,

And if your voice begins to irritate, I'll need to be alone.

But don't you take it the wrong way.

Save your love for me.

This world's a colonoscopy.

Save your love for me...

As usual, Kate is out on the floor, schmoozing with the diners while we sing. She never misses an opportunity to mention Edward's name, and it's beginning to piss me off. She talks about him as if she has a standing invitation for brunch at the guest house whenever he's in Chicago. I should have known that she had some sort of ulterior motive for inviting us to play on Monday nights, but it's hard to stay angry with her. After all, we actually get to be real musicians for a while. And business is booming. There's not an empty seat in the house.

I catch a glimpse of Kate's face as she realizes that it's not one of our usual covers, quirking one eyebrow as she listens to the lyrics. Both eyebrows go up at the mention of kidney stones and I nearly burst out laughing at her queasy-looking reaction to a colonoscopy.

She doesn't normally take the mic during our set, so it's a surprise when she joins us again after we finish the song. Riley is grinning from ear to ear, relieved to have it out of the way. The audience seems to like it, given the rather raucous applause.

"Well, boys, that was rather... unusual. Any more surprises tonight?" I can hear a note of irritation behind her bantering voice as she almost glares at us.

"Nope," I reply with a big, friendly smile. I think I'm beginning to like this original material stuff. Kate quickly adds something about extending happy hour until 10 p.m., then leaves the stage.

The rest of the songs are our usual mix of old oldies and new oldies, and we enjoy the way the audience responds, swaying to the beat in their seats, or singing along with us, then giving us a nice round of applause at the end. Kate doesn't interrupt us again, but I do notice her talking with a cute guy at the bar as we finish the first set. I wonder if I can get her to introduce me to him during the break, but he's gone by the time I leave the stage.

Alice and Garrett are gone too. Gone to wherever happy elves go to sleep – or not sleep – at night, I imagine with a shudder. Peter and I enjoy a beer and a bowl of fasolada at the bar before he stands up and grabs my hand.

"Got time for a quickie before your next set?" he asks with a grin. He doesn't have to ask me twice. But I balk when he pulls me toward the men's room. I just can't go in there with him, not after what happened with Edward.

He gives me a funny look when I change direction and take him through the kitchen instead, earning dirty looks from the chef. I quickly step outside into the alley behind the restaurant and push him up against the wall. It's not exactly a romantic setting, but I've been wanting to do this ever since he stepped out of the line outside the restaurant door.

In the time that remains before the second set, we manage to squeeze in a lot of kissing and some rather unsatisfactory dry humping.

"Is that what you're calling foreplay these days?" Peter says with a smirk as we go back inside.

"Stick around, my friend," I say. "There's a whole lot more where that came from." I wiggle my eyebrows up and down, leering at him until he laughs.

-ICL-

Once we finish the second set, I arrange tomorrow's practice time with James and Riley, and then quickly depart with Peter. We stop for some beer at a convenience store near my apartment building, where he starts talking about the annual Cupid's Ball on Saturday at Spin.

"Jasper, you just have to come."

"Truer words were never spoken, my friend," I laugh.

Apparently, three porn stars are scheduled to make an appearance. Obviously they're not as classy as the star I met before Christmas, but I think I've been starstruck quite enough already. And none of them are from the Corbin Fisher studio, so I'm not particularly motivated to attend.

"What are we gonna do? Flirt with the 'stars'? Been there, done that," I mutter.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that..."

"Later, man. Let's just get the beer and get out of here." I struggle mightily on the way home to shake off the disgruntled mood that this conversation has brought on. When we arrive at my place, Peter borrows my laptop and goes to the Spin site to show me the three porn stars. We spend a few minutes online comparing their assets to our CF faves as he continues his efforts to persuade me to go with him. I finally relent and agree, thinking that maybe I do need to start getting out more.

Afterward, we take two more beers and sprawl on the sofa, sitting at opposite ends, with our bare feet and denim-clad legs in a tangle in the middle.

"So, what else is new, Jasper? You look... different."

"I already told you that Kate wanted us to clean up."

"I'm not talking about your haircut, although you do look good." He takes a swig of beer and laughs. "Of course, you don't look quite as dazzled as you did in those videos..."

I choke on my beer, spitting it out all over our jeans. "You saw them?"

"Hell yes, baby. You were positively incandescent when you were singing to him. I've never seen you look like that before, Jasper. What the hell happened?"

"Well, he came to the gingerbread house with his kid..."

Peter snorts. "He has a kid?"

"Yeah. She's pretty awesome actually, considering what she's been through."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"You need to watch less porn and read more news, Peter. At least once in a while. Edward's business manager was her other father, and he died in a plane crash last year on Christmas Eve."

"Oh yeah, I do remember something about that. So what's the deal? Are you being recruited as Daddy #3?"

I feel a flame of anger flare up in my gut. "It's not like that at all, Pete. The guy is still in mourning. He knows it's time to move on, but..." I shrug. "It's not easy. And..." I pause, having a hard time saying what needs to be said. "And I don't think I'm the one who's gonna be able to help him with that." I finish my beer, hoping that I can swallow around the lump in my throat. I can't believe I still feel so much. I lean back on the arm of the sofa and close my eyes.

Peter takes the beer bottle from my hand and puts it on the coffee table next to his, then straddles me on the sofa. "I'm sorry, baby," he says sympathetically, pushing my T-shirt up and planting little kisses on my nose, my cheeks, my neck, my chest. "When will you see him again?"

"Never," I sigh. "He kind of ran away from me on Christmas Eve. Took the first excuse that came up and split. And then he thought I was the one who uploaded those videos."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, ouch is right. I'm still not really sure if he believes that it wasn't me, although he did say something later in a press-conference video that made it sound like we're in the clear." I sigh again, deeply.

"Let Peter make it all better," he says softly as he unzips my jeans, then kisses my soft cock. "Pretend it's Edward's mouth on you now. He's the one who wants to taste you, to suck you and make you hard." His hands pull off my jeans and toss them aside.

This can't be a good idea, can it? Pretending that I'm fucking Edward instead of Peter just has bad idea written all over it. Didn't I just say that I'll never have Edward? Doesn't that mean I should try forgetting about him, not pretending that his mouth is around my dick? Still, I can't help groaning as he licks and sucks me to hardness, and I do nothing to stop him.

"It's his tongue in your slit, licking up that pre-cum..."

"Peter!" I gasp.

"No, Jasper," he says in a low voice. "I think you need this. Close your eyes and just feel. Feel him and let him take care of you, baby." He lifts off my T-shirt, then stands up.

I watch him as he strips off his clothes, his body in peak condition, every muscle smooth and defined, his thick cock stiff and bouncing as he reaches out and pulls me up from the sofa, leading the way into my bedroom. Only the string of chili-pepper lights are on, lending a surreal red glow to our encounter.

It isn't the first time that we've played out our fantasies, but this is far more intense. My heart is pounding as he pushes me down on the bed and then straddles me again, picking up where he left off before, licking and kissing his way down my body and sucking my cock back to full hardness.

I stop trying to make sense of it and just close my eyes, losing myself in the fantasy. Instead of Peter's straight blond hair, I imagine Edward's messy auburn spikes. Instead of Peter's thick, blunt fingers, I feel Edward's long, elegant ones, caressing me as if I were a priceless ivory keyboard. His music for Seth surges through my mind, rising and falling with the same rhythm as Peter's mouth on my cock.

In my mind's eye, I see Edward's face, the way he looked as I sucked his cock. The one moment when he was finally beginning to let go of his grief, to set it aside for a few minutes at least. So close...

"I'm close, P – " One hand comes up to keep me from saying his name, to keep us in this closed-off bubble a few minutes longer. I kiss his hand, then take his thumb into my mouth, sucking it just like he's sucking my cock.

We both moan.

I try to imagine what would have happened at the guest house if Edward and I hadn't been interrupted. I would have made him come; I have no doubt about that. But then what? I see myself climbing up his body, shedding any remaining clothes, and using my fingers on him... In him... I don't know whether or not Edward bottomed for Seth – although my hunch is that he probably did – but I want to feel him under me now, to push inside him and feel his hot flesh all around me...

"Stop," I say softly. I'm so close, but I want to go all the way with this. "I want to come inside you."

Peter takes one last, long lick up my cock, one final plunge of his tongue in my slit, then kisses his way back up my body. "How do you want me, baby?" he asks in a low voice. His hand goes to his cock, giving it the friction that it needs.

"On your back."

We quickly trade places and I go down on him, using one hand to hold his cock as I run my tongue around the head. He grabs the lube on my bedside table and rubs it on the fingers of my free hand. I slide one finger inside him, then two, three... He's moaning and writhing and begging.

"C'mon, Jasper. Fuck me." He rips open the condom packet and rolls the condom down my cock, then adds lube. I slowly push into his body, ready to finish what I started with Edward.

It's a familiar dance between the two of us, but tonight I close my eyes, the better to see Edward's piercing green eyes, and not Peter's familiar brown ones. I press forward and quickly sink my full length into the heat of his body. I push and grind, adding extra pressure to his prostate. He moans with pleasure.

"More," he grunts, and I comply, slowly at first, and then more quickly as my own need increases. I imagine Edward with his hand on his cock, stroking himself in time with my thrusts.

I give him everything I've got, thrusting harder and faster. The more I give, the more I take from the fantasy, falling deeper into believing that I'm with Edward for the first time instead of with a friend that I've fucked for convenience for years.

When I imagine Edward, I don't just feel a tightness in my groin, I feel it in my chest. I feel it everywhere.

"More, Jasper," he says again, whispering in my ear. I swear the words sound British, and my heart beats even faster as I give him more, moving more quickly, more deeply, until the sweat is dripping from my body and both of us are grunting every time I go as deep as I can.

I open my eyes. "I want to see you come," I tell him. "I want to feel you..." Moaning, I bite my tongue as I almost say Edward's name, but I'm not so far gone that I don't know whose powerful body it is that's squeezing my cock. He shudders as his come arcs out across his belly, painting him with white ribbons that finally pull my orgasm all the way from my toes. As I come into the condom deep inside his body, I can't help imagining what it would be like to do this bareback, to feel this without a condom. To feel Edward without a condom.

If that happened, I don't think I'd ever want to stop, but right now I can't breathe. Untangling my arms from around his legs, I drop down onto his chest, burying my face in his neck as I feel his slick wetness on our bellies. Our chests are heaving, our lungs sucking in deep breaths as our heartbeats slow and I begin to take in the enormity of what I've done.

At least I didn't say his name out loud. This little game might have been Peter's idea, but that seems like crossing a line somehow.

"Thank you," I whisper as my breathing begins to return to normal. "I needed that."

"That's for sure," he responds, wrapping his arms around me and turning his head for a deep kiss. "Any time, baby," he adds with a laugh.

We lie there together for a few minutes until I get goosebumps on my ass from the cool air in the bedroom. "Damned heater," I grumble. "Works great in August, but it's worthless in February."

"Aw, baby, didn't I warm you up good enough?" Peter teases. A moment later, he slides off the bed and goes into the bathroom. When he returns, he collects his clothes and starts getting dressed.

He seldom stays over. He doesn't care if I stay at his place, but he usually leaves after we have sex here. After all these years, I'm used to it. Tonight I wouldn't have minded if he stayed, because I don't particularly want to be alone after going so deep into that fantasy, but within minutes he's putting on his jacket.

"What's the hurry, Pete?" I ask. "You could stay for a while, you know."

He shrugs. "I'll see you on Saturday at Spin," he says, pausing at the door only long enough to give me a rather perfunctory good-bye kiss. And then he's gone before I can ask him about the peculiar expression on his face.

I'm sure I look confused myself, staring at the door as it closes behind him. It's not like we cuddle in the afterglow – although he does give a good cuddle when he's in the mood – but I've never seen him take off so quickly. Maybe I'm just more aware of it tonight because I could have used a little company, for a while at least.

I wander aimlessly around my apartment for a few minutes, and end up carrying beer bottles to the kitchen and tossing discarded clothes into the laundry basket in my bedroom closet. Who am I kidding? I finally give in, opening up my laptop and clicking on the bookmarked homepage for edwardcullen dot com.

I sigh. It's inevitable, no matter how much I try to resist. I just happen to check it at least once a day. Usually twice, to be honest, and sometimes even three times, which probably isn't the greatest mental-health strategy, but here I am again.

And there he is again, in all his glory, accepting a huge bouquet of roses on the stage of the Sydney Opera House, a modest smile on his face. I stare at the photo as if he'll turn and smile at me if I sit here long enough.

I'm shaken out of my trance by a generic ringtone. I grab my phone as it continues ringing and, for half a second, my jaw drops as I alternate looking between the laptop screen and my phone.

I finally come to my senses and answer it when I realize that it's a number in the Chicago area.

"Hey," says a stranger's voice. "Is this Jasper Whitlock?"

"Yeah. What can I do for you?"

"Hey, Jasper, my name is Alistair Randall. Hope it's not too late to be calling. I..."

I almost drop the phone right there. I know who he is: the lead guitarist of my favorite local group, Chicagoland. Alice, Garrett, and I went to see them play at Lincoln Hall before Christmas and they were amazing.

"...I hope you don't mind, but I asked Kate Denali for your agent's phone number. She said she didn't think you had representation yet, and she gave me your number instead."

"No, we don't," I admit. Who needs a manager when it's just a temporary gig at the place where I make salads all weekend?

"So you're probably wondering who I am and why I'm calling."

"You're the lead singer and songwriter for Chicagoland," I say in a rush.

"Cool," he laughs. "Anyway, Jasper, here's the deal: We've been talking with some friends at Slow Food USA, and we managed to put together a proposal for Whole Foods..."

I pull the phone away from my ear for a second and look at it with a frown as if it will somehow explain what Chicagoland and Whole Foods have to do with me.

"...and they're going to underwrite a short tour across the south starting in March."

"That sounds pretty interesting," I say, although I still have no idea why he's calling me.

"Anyway, I saw those videos, and I came by tonight to see you at Katerina's, but I had to leave before I had a chance to talk with you. That first song was great, and I hope you guys have more new material because I was wondering if the Dust Covers would consider trying out to be the opening act on the tour."

I suddenly realize that he was the cute guy talking to Kate earlier this evening. I stand there for a moment in shocked silence. A month ago we did an open-mic night, and now we're talking about touring?

"Jasper? You still there?"

"Uh, yeah, man. Are you serious?"

He laughs. "I'm completely serious. We want to go with another local group and work our way south, then swing east. If we can get everything set up, we'll leave in March and be back by the end of May, although there's also a chance that it might extend into June if we get some good word-of-mouth going and add some more gigs. We won't be playing in arenas or anything. Not on this trip anyway." He laughs again. "It'll be mostly small venues – regional theaters and such – in cities where Whole Foods is looking to expand, but I think it'll be pretty cool. Oh, we'll spend a week in Nashville too, and we're trying to get some studio time written into the contract."

He could have knocked me over with a feather. As far as surprise phone calls go, I'll take this one over Edward's angry rant any day of the week. I take a deep breath before I speak.

"So, when are the try-outs?"

A/N: Okay, in case it isn't already completely obvious, I must admit that don't know a thing about how tours are organized or negotiated. Feel free to educate me! Also, please let me know what songs you'd recommend for the Dust Covers' playlist. ("Save Your Love for Me" comes from the Suckers' Wild Smile CD.)

Thank you so much for the reviews and alerts and favorites. Some of you have turned off private messaging on FFn and I can't respond to your generous comments. Please know that I do love hearing from you and appreciate all of your kind words, suggestions, and questions about the story. And I will catch up on review replies soon, I promise!

P.S. If you want to see the tiny stage at Katerina's, check out the videos on the Entertainment page at katerinas dot com. I'd add a link on my profile, but that doesn't seem to be possible at the moment.