Page 2 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

Knox leans forward. “I can still bang Harmony though, right?”

I keep glaring, but the damage there has already been done. I’m not about to deny Addison and Harvey their happiness, either.

Still, I smile stiffly. “Sure, Knox.”

He exhales with relief as Harmony lovingly rolls her eyes.

“Now.”I raise my shot glass of bourbon. “Three-two-one!”

“It’s shot time!”

We take our shots together. With closed eyes, I let the burn envelop my throat; a moment of chaotic rest amongst a mountain of to-dos that still need to be checked off before the night is over.

Amid a wave of shouts and laughs, I open my eyes and look at my band. My friends. My family.

I make eye contact with Bronson’s brown eyes. He stands there, tall and silent, a few strands of his dark hair falling over his forehead to graze his thick eyebrows.

He looks back, his shot still yet to be taken, and he smiles at me.

“Harvey,” I say as I set my empty glass down, the burn now just a light tingling sensation on the back of my tongue. “I believe you have a crowd to warm up.” I check my watch. “Three minutes!”

With that, I spin on my heels and march out of the room while the others holler for Harvey, happy to have him back following a brief but dramatic almost-exit that would have sent me into a PR spiral that I’m thrilled to have dodged.

Outside, I navigate through the dark backstage area, quickly checking in with our road manager, Roy. He gives me a simple thumbs up to show they’re ready and I check another thing off my list.

“Gave them a talking to, huh?”

I glance at Chrissy beside me, her identical clipboard held by her side. Her long black hair is down, almost reaching her elbows. A strange sight to behold this close to showtime, as she usually has it tied up in a high ponytail by now, ready to get down to business.

“It had to be done,” I say.

She nods sagely. “Agreed.”

“We’re oneGossipaarticle away from utter chaos.”

“I think that’s a stretch,” she says, amused. “But this tour has been quite... colorful.”

“Messyis the word I’d choose.”

“Sometimes things get messy.” Her eyes narrow, but they remain friendly. “Most of the time, that means packing an extra roll of paper towels.”

I arch a brow. “What’s your point?”

“My point, my dear friend, is that the occasional spill is no reason to stop having fun.”

“I never said they couldn’t have fun,” I argue. “I just want them to do it responsibly. That’s all.”

“I’m not talking about them.”

“Me?”

“Yes,you.”She taps my clipboard. “Look at your list. When have you scheduled yourself a little bit of fun?”

“I don’t have time for fun, Chrissy. I have calls to make and schedules to keep and?—”

She slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Jordan, sweetie, I’m going to give you an assignment.”

I open my mouth to argue.

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