Deeper Than Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

the same clothes as yesterday.”
    â€œI came to get your car keys, you bimbo. Since you stranded me here in town.”
    â€œNice try, lamebrain.” Liz threw the magazine at his head. “You weren’t complaining about being stranded in my bed last night.”
    â€œWow, three page spread! Killer,” Kevin said. “Has Digger seen this yet?” He waved the magazine in my face.
    â€œHas Digger seen what?” Adrian asked, slowly descending the spiral stairs. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he was slowly buttoning the sleeves of his black Western-style shirt. A flat brown paper bag was tucked under one arm.
    I gauged my brother’s reaction. Considering it had been less than twenty-four hours since learning his sister was dating one of his favorite musicians, I thought he was doing fairly well, keeping his cool.
    â€œ
Manhattan Muse
’s write-up of the show last night.” Kevin’s hands, so self-assured in the kitchen, wavered slightly as he proffered up the magazine for all to see.
    Manhattan Muse
prided itself on the broad conglomeration of culture it presented to the masses on a weekly basis, picking up where
Time Out New York
and
Village Voice
left off. It could’ve either thumbed its hipster nose at the eighties doom metal band’s resurgence, or dropped to its knobby knees in worship. But a three-page spread and a headline proclaiming THE BEAST IS BACK: ROTTEN GRAVES RESURRECTS THE CORPSE TO SOLD OUT GARDEN sounded pretty promising.
    â€œAce,” Adrian commented, casting a glance at all the sources Kimon had brought that now covered the coffee table. The remnants of his
Clockwork Orange
eye had washed off in the shower, leaving just the material in front of him as hard evidence that the show hadn’t been just some rock-and-roll fantasy we’d all imagined.
    â€œI’ll take a read-through after we eat. I’m famished. Can’t imagine why.” He aimed a wink my way. “When’s lunch, Chef?” he asked Kev.
    â€œIs that why you’re here?” I wheeled around to face my brother, and then threw a glance at Liz. “And you?”
    She was on her feet now, clicking a flat iron over her head like a belly dancer with castanets. “Makeover time, Tree.”
    Jeez, it seemed Adrian had enlisted everyone I knew. Was I that much of a charity case?
    â€œSo, do you have it?” Kevin wanted to know.
    Adrian deposited the bag into my brother’s waiting palm. “One mint condition copy of
Spoils of War
, on blue vinyl.”
    â€œWait. You’re bribing my brother with Corroded Corpse swag so he’ll cook for us?”
    â€œVery rare Corroded Corpse swag,” Kev corrected, sliding the odd-sized record out of its sleeve to inspect it.
    â€œDon’t you trust me?” Adrian asked, amused.
    â€œI trust no one,” Kev reported ominously. “Limited edition, custom-shaped seven-inch single. For every one genuine copy, there are at least twenty bootlegged fakes.” The serial numbers etched into the vinyl seemed to satisfy him, because he smiled broadly. “Lunch will be served in ten minutes.” He trotted back to the kitchen, treasure in hand.
    â€œI thought he already had that one,” I whispered to Adrian. He’d done a quick inventory of my brother’s metal memorabilia over the summer, convincing me to add a separate rider to my homeowner’s insurance to cover it.
    â€œNo. He has the green,” Adrian murmured. “Can’t wait to see what I can get him to do to earn the red vinyl. Only fifteen pressed, and I know the whereabouts of exactly three.”
    Liz had me settle into the big leather chair in the corner, next to the end table where she had several hair appliances heating up. With all girls in the family, the Dooley household had been seriously into hair growing up; no shape, style, ortint had gone untried. Liz had done my hair on the first day of