Page 76 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

The High Note bustles with life, packed to the brim with people. The lights are cold and moody, but there are bright neon signs along the walls and splashes of color from spotlights on the empty stage. Various smells fill the air, from perfumes to leather to alcohol. An array of bottles sit in a line behind the bar,shimmering under the lights as several bartenders rush back and forth in front of them, each dressed in black.

So rock and roll.

I look into Jordan’s smiling eyes, and I know it’s gonna be a good night.

With their drinks in hand, she and Chrissy rush off to search for a place where all of us can sit together — which I can already tell won’t be an easy task. Usually, it’s just the six of us; just Criminal Records and Jordan. Now, Knox has Harmony. Addison has Harvey. We have Chrissy and August, too. Our little found family is growing and changing. Not a bad thing at all, I say.

Just different, that’s all.

But I’m really starting to likedifferent.

Finally, they wave us across the bar toward some now-abandoned couches along the western wall. We weave through the busy crowd, a mix of stylish New Yorkers and curious tourists. Some recognize us. Some don’t. Conversations and laughter blend in our ears, along with the pulsing beats of hard rock music blasting from the sound system, shaking the floor as we walk.

The stage along the back wall is small. It doesn’t look like much, but so many brilliant artists have performed on it — ourselves included.

Tonight, it’s empty, but set up for a performer that has yet to arrive.

Once we’re all settled on the couches, Knox raises his glass. “Everybody!” he says. “Bring it in.”

We all hold up drinks, creating a circle of glass. For a moment, Knox says nothing. He simply grins, his eyes hopping from person-to-person with pride.

“To breaking the rules,” he says, toasting.

Rather than instantly repeating the toast, all eyes turn to Jordan for permission.

She smiles and raises her drink an inch higher. “To breaking the rules,” she repeats before taking a large sip from her highball glass.

That’s my girl.

We all shout out in response, our voices lost beneath the bass of the music. While the others sip their drinks, I keep my gaze on Jordan for just a little longer. The booze has already hit her eyes. They glisten softly behind her glasses. Just like her lips, shiny and red.

I can’t help but picture her on her knees, that mouth doing very bad things.

I throw back my shot before the urge to kiss her overwhelms me and I forget where I am and who we’re with.

Before I forget what we actually are.

Friends. Bandmates.

Fuck buddies. Not lovers.

When I finally look away from her, I make eye contact with Addison across the circle instead.

Damn. Of course, she noticed me gawking at Jordan.

Thankfully, Addison says nothing, far too distracted by Harvey’s whisper touching her ear.

After a few minutes of scattered conversation, a server approaches us with a round of shots for the entire table. “Compliments of the gentleman in the corner,” she says as she passes them around.

We glance over, following her extended hand, and our enthusiasm fades.

The Electrics.

Sitting back on a couch with Goldie Locke under one arm and Tesla Kyle beneath the other, Logan Shock smiles. He raises aglass and bows his head as the two girls cackle loud enough for all to hear.

“Fucking hell,” Knox spits. “Of all the fucking nights.”

“We’re intheircity, Knox,” Katrina says.

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