Page 7 of Bonding the Band

Begrudgingly, I dressed in fresh clothes. I’d kill for a shower right now but knew Arlo wouldn’t be that patient.

God. Why was the outside world so fucking bright? We were in Seattle. Where were the clouds? I was going to freckle at this rate.

We met the others in the hotel lobby, everyone dressed to blend in with plain clothing, baseball hats, and sunglasses. Sometimes that gave us away, but today it actually worked, with the blazing sky ball peeking through the clouds.

Phineas sidled up to me with a lazy grin. “Fun night?”

“I can only assume.”

Phin barked a laugh. “Shit, man, you’ve gotta try something lighter.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“And we’ll keep doing that until you decide to listen.” Beckett kicked me in the ass, enough to make me stumble, but not enough to hurt.

“Becks,please. I’m fucking delicate right now.”

“You only get my sympathy when it’s not your own fault.”

I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. They found me coffee on the way, and I sipped at it like it might bring me back to life. Security would be trailing behind us, unseen by the general population in case we were noticed, but otherwise, it was nice to have some space to breathe where it was only the four of us.

Arlo and Phin ate the donut shop out of house and home. I nursed a maple bacon concoction in the shade outside, Beckett standing sedately by my side while he polished off two donuts himself.

“You usually recover faster than this,” he commented. “You’re turning into an old man.”

Flashing my middle finger at him was the only outward acknowledgment I gave to the statement. Inwardly, it stirred up my anxiety. I had turned twenty-seven last month and couldn’t get it out of my head that I was going to join that long line of musicians and actors who had ended up six feet under when theyhit that age. It was hard not to think about when I was already named after someone in that dreaded club.

Too many incredible lives snuffed out before their time. From the first second we had tasted fame, I had worried I would be one of them, and every day that I had marched closer to hitting twenty-seven had shoved me further down the slope, making me turn to anything and everything to tame the panic.

“Hey.” Beckett nudged me, his voice soft. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head, chugging my coffee instead. Talking wouldn’t make any difference. Beckett would be twenty-seven himself soon, but he wasn’t one to spiral over it.

He sighed and sipped his own drink. “Bottling shit up isn’t going to help you.”

“There’s plenty of room left in this bottle before it’s at risk of exploding. Don’t worry.”

“Have I told you lately that you’re infuriating?”

“You have! Yesterday, in fact. Feels like a new personal record for you to have waited a whole twenty-four hours before telling me again.”

Beckett snorted.

Arlo and Phineas slid out of the little shop with a box clutched to each of their chests.

“Road snacks!” Arlo announced.

Beckett forced a green smoothie on me before we made it back to the bus. I tried to strategically toss it in the trash, but Phin had his eye on me. I choked it down out of necessity, trying to keep control over my churning gut while I did so. I knew my body would appreciate the nutrients, but my tongue absolutely did not.

“Big baby.” Beckett tutted. “You’re gonna have to behave on the next leg of the tour.”

We were headed to Singapore in a few hours, and we’d have to make sure all our good shit stayed here. I wasnotgoing torisk going to prison over there. Gary would feed me into a wood chipper if that happened.

That man was a saint. He had discovered our band when we were still in high school. By happenstance, his mother lived across the street from my place, and he had been visiting her during one of our practices, saw the potential we had, and offered to represent us. I knew he was probably disappointed in the man I had become, much like I was sure my dad would be if he were still around to see it. I tried to make it up to Gary, at least. I attended every practice, gave 110 percent at every show, and personally paid for him to go visit his mom whenever he wanted. That probably wasn’t anywhere near enough, considering how much wrangling he had to do, but it was all I could give him right now, outside of the killer commission.

He was waiting for us when we arrived, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re supposed to tell me when you disappear.”

“We had security with us,” Arlo pointed out.

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