Page 101 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

“Woo-hoo! Go, Criminal Records! Go!”

I jolt in surprise as Christian Myers cheers beside me. He smiles at me as he claps, and I laugh, offering a round of applause as well.

“Fuck,” Christian says, speaking loud enough for me to hear. “I missed this.”

“Being on the road?” I ask.

“On the road,” he repeats. “On the bus. Backstage. The hotels.The fans.”He soaks it in for a moment, then sighs. “Man, I really fucked things up.”

“You’ll bounce back, Christian.”

He looks at me. “You think so?”

“Of course. You’reChristian Myers. Without you, there wouldn’t have been Cobraville.”

He smirks. “You know, when I used to say that, people called me an arrogant prick.”

“It’s true.” I wave a hand. “Not the arrogant prick part, I mean.” He laughs, softening my stance. “I just mean to say that, with the right choices, you’ll be selling out arenas again in no time.”

Christian eyes me curiously, his smile still lingering. “With the right choices,” he repeats.

“Tall order, I know.”

“No, no. It’s... well, not my strongest suit, but what are humans if not constant works in progress?”

I nod in agreement. “That’s how I see it.”

“Thanks,” he says. “You’re a good manager, Jordan.”

You’re a good friend, Jordan.

“I try to be,” I say, shrugging.

“No, you’re...” He blinks as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “You’re really great.”

I look away. “Thank you.”

“Pretty, too.”

My stomach twists. For a moment, I do nothing, wondering if I should pretend like I didn’t hear it at all. But I look at him beside me, standing a full head taller than me. Handsome. Smiling.

“Thank you,” I say again.

“You know...” He breaks eye contact for a second, his eyes flashing as the stage lights shift. “I almost asked you out before.”

“Before?”

“Yeah,before.During our tour, way back when.”

I snort. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did! Granted, I rememberlittleof that tour,” he says. “I spent most of those weeks at the bottom of a bottle or at the tip of a needle, but I rememberyou.”He tilts his head, looking me over. “You run a tight ship, Jordan Peck.”

I chuckle nervously. “I just do my job.”

“No, it’s more than that. You take care of your people. That’s admirable. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Chrissy. She was there for me when no one else was, that’s for damn sure. But I’m curious. If I had someone like you looking out for me back then, would my life have turned out differently?”

“You’re not Dade Connery, Christian.”

---