Page 1 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

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JORDAN

We all stand together in a circle backstage. Knox and Harmony, back together and smiling after years apart. Addison and Harvey Moon, newly smitten with each other. Jonah, Katrina, and Bronson. Chrissy and August. Each one near and dear to my heart; a member of my found Criminal Records family.

Those performing tonight stand with shot glasses raised high above their heads, ready for the shot time countdown. Shot time has been a part of Criminal Records’ pre-show ritual since before all of us were of legal drinking age. It’s an important part of our shows, our tours. Our lives.

But before we get to it...

The boss has to say a few words.

“Three!” Katrina says, beginning the countdown.

“Two!” Addison says.

“One!” Jonah says.

“It’s shot ti?—!”

“Wait!”I say.

They all stop, their glasses inches away from their chins.

“Before we do this, I have something to say,” I say, the words lighting a fire in my belly. “So far, this tour... hasn’t exactly goneaccording to plan. Usually, that’s not an issue. My backup plans have their own backup plans. However, this tour... for some ungodly reason... has been more unpredictable than ever. That might be fine and dandy for you guys. The Rebels of Rock. But, forme,it sucks.”

Their shoulders sag as they carefully lower their shot glasses. They look at me with big, precious eyes, and I know what I’m about to hear before they even say it.

We’re sorry, Jordan!

We had no idea, Jordan!

We promise we’ll be good, Jordan!

I throw up a hand to silence them. “Now...” I glare at each of them. At Knox. At Jonah. Addison and Harvey. Even poor Katrina gets a stiff eye, even though the worst sin I’ve ever seen from her is staying up too late reading and being a little sloppy at the keyboard the next morning. “Starting tonight, startingright now,I want all of you to promise me you’ll be chill. All right? I know we’ve had aninterestingfew days. Finding that bug on the bus this morning certainly isn’t helping matters, but you’re all adults and you should — theoretically — be able to go one week without dragging us through the shit. We have a little over a month left of this tour.”

“Still?” Jonah mutters.

“Eleven shows remaining starting three days from tonight in Kansas City.”

“The Midwest route!” Knox says excitedly. He hops on the tips of his toes, spilling a few drops of his bourbon. “Lots of wide open fields. We should totally go star bussing again, you gu?—”

Bronson punches him in the arm. Hard.

I smother my smile. I don’t disagree with Knox. In fact, our night of star-gazing has been a highlight for me so far. But I don’t want to soften my point.

“Ow!” Knox cries out, but retreats the moment he sees my glare. “Sorry, Jordan.”

“No more breaking the rules,” I say. “No more banging other bandmates. No more late night field trips by yourselves. No more getting into fist fights or getting arrested or anything else you’ve done so far. From now on, you wake up. You go to practice. You make it to sound check on time. The show goes on and thenyou chill out.”Out of breath, I take a moment to let it sink in. “I’m including myself in this rant, by the way. Starting tonight, no more Mrs. Nice Jordan. I will not be so lenient with you when you fuck up. For the rest of this tour, when you’re off the clock, you’re not Criminal Records anymore. You’re Law-Abiding... Records.” I punctuate it with a head nod. “Understand?”

Predictably, they all chime in at once.

“Yes!”

“We’re sorry, Jordan!”

“Super sorry.”

“We’ll be chill.”

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