A few minutes later, Ian knocked on Dean’s door and shifted from one foot to the other until his manager called out, “Come in.” Ian pushed the door open slowly.
Inside the room was dark, the curtains still drawn, the lamps off. Low music played softly, the opening score of Phantom of the Opera drifting around the room like wisps of the vaporized dry ice they used onstage. The bed was rumpled, but Dean’s wife Kate wasn’t between the sheets as Ian had been when his manager found him. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen—Ian noticed the bathroom door was open, the light inside off. Dean must have sent her out, which meant he wanted to have a real heart-to-heart talk.
Now Ian was scared. Without her as a buffer, Ian thought maybe things might get ugly between them. Suddenly, he wished he ha
