Page 121 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

Any word I could say to him has already been said by Knox or Jonah. While I sit on an ice cold bench, my back pressed hard against the wall, the two of them have been going at it near non-stop with our current cell mate for the last hour.

“How could you do this?” Knox growls. “Colluding with Monroe? Really, Chris?”

Christian stands at the opposite side of the cell with one arm hooked into the bars, no doubt ready to give the guard standing by a signal in case one of us wails on him again — which is quite tempting.

“We brought you onto our bus, man. Our tour!” Knox says. “I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” Christian snickers. “You thoughtwewere friends?”

Knox nods with genuine confusion. Jonah does, too.

“You don’t care about me,” Christian says, perfectly calm. “You never did.”

“That’s not true,” Jonah says.

“Did you even reach out after Cobraville broke up?”

We all flinch, our collective superstitions triggering the moment he said it. You don’t say those two words about a band and you certainly don’t do it within earshot of other musicians, but Christian clearly doesn’t give a shit about jinxing us.

“Did any of you?” he adds, giving the three of us a quick scan with his bruised and swollen eyes, the right lid only partially opened. “I’ll say that’s rhetorical since you don’t care either way.”

“No,” Jonah answers. “We didn’t reach out. We should have. For that, I’m sorry.”

Christian exhales hard. “Save it, Botsford. Criminal Records only cares about Criminal Records. You’re all selfish and ruthless animals, but hey, I should know. That’s what it takes to stay at the top, isn’t it?The Rebels of Rock,”he mocks. “At least own it. Don’t stand around pretending you’re some altruistic saint selflessly sharing your musical gifts with the world. It’s pathetic.”

Knox’s jaw shifts with anger, but he doesn’t reply. He merely glances at Jonah standing beside him.

“You were all thrilled to watch us fall — to watchmefall — because you were next in line to take our place.” Christian chuckles pointedly at Knox. “You know, as much as you hate the guy, you and Logan sure have a lot in common.”

“I amnothinglike Logan Shock,” Knox says, the words laced with anger.

“You’re right. You’re not.” Christian tilts forward as if to bury a knife in Knox’s gut. “Because Logan has more talent in his left nut than you ever will.”

Knox stands straight up. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re a washed up loser, Knox. And I can’t wait for the day The Electrics utterly destroy you.”

As Knox lunges toward him, Jonah grabs him by the arm to hold him back.

“Knox, don’t?—”

The clash of grinding metal doors overwhelms the space, reminding Knox of exactly where we are. He backs off, letting Jonah pull him back as a guard approaches our cell. He’s tall and thick, with clearly no patience for us or our problems.

Jordan trails behind him, still in her date night clothes with a handbag hanging off one shoulder. I spot her and my shoulders instantly relax, so relieved to see her.

But she doesn’t look nearly as thrilled to see us.

“A bar fight?” she says, standing a foot away from the bars. “Really, Knox?”

“Hey, I didn’t start this one!” Knox says, raising his hands.

“No,youdid.” Her glare shifts pointedly at me. “I saw the whole thing, as did Addison and Katrina, and about two dozen others withcamera phones. It’s already all overGossipa. By morning, everyone is going to have seen this.”

“So what?” Knox asks. “Who cares?”

“I care!” she shouts.“I care,Knox. Because someone fucking has to.”

Knox goes quiet.

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