Page 89 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

JORDAN

New York fucking City.

I scan the arena, absolutely blown away.

Sure, we’ve played this venue before, but it’s always breathtaking. It’s hard to believe that every little speck through the veil of lights and smoke is another screaming fan.

I take a breath and smile, glancing at Chrissy and August by my side.

“Everybody now,”Knox says, his voice echoing, his face covered in sweat. He shifts his guitar strap, letting it hang off his shoulder as he grips the microphone stand. Behind him, Bronson pounds a steady drum while Katrina tickles her keys; the music blending seamlessly with the screams of the crowd. “Put your beautiful hands together,” Knox says, and they obey. “For tonight’s special guest...”

He lets the silence linger, creating an uproar of glorious tension. Behind the curtain, the three of us grin, the hype reaching us even though we already know what’s about to happen.

“Welcome to the stage, our friend,Mr. Christian Myers!”

Gasping screams and thundering applause fill the air as Christian steps out onto the stage from the other side. He milksit, of course, taking his time on the way toward center stage to bask in the glory and enjoy the view. I clap with the crowd, adding a few whoops of my own to the deafening sound that’s sure to be shaking the surrounding streets of New York.

Once Christian is satisfied, he walks over to stand beside Knox, but it takes another minute for the crowd to die down enough for them to do their bit. My stomach tingles with nostalgia as memories rise to the surface. Christian and Knox, the two frontmen bantering about on the stage, playfully insulting each other and arguing over who is prettier. It’s as if no time has passed by at all since that first west coast tour.

Suddenly, I feel young, more inexperienced. Back then, I truly felt as if I were making up every day as I went along. Much less so now. Back then, I lost count of how many people laughed and closed the door in my face. Now, I have a contact book full of names of those who always pick up when they see it’s me calling. I’ve earned the respect of my peers, the admiration of those in-the-know. Back then, I only dreamed of being exactly where I am now.

Where will I be in five years? Ten years?

I can’t wait to find out.

Without thinking, I glance at Chrissy standing next to me, and all my thoughts come to a grinding halt when I see tears in her eyes. “Chrissy?” I ask, turning to face her.

August looks over, noticing it, too. “Christina?”

“I’m fine.” Chrissy wipes the moisture off her cheeks and gently dabs her eyes — being careful not to ruin her makeup. “Really, I’m good. These are happy tears.”

“Yeah?” I ask, making sure.

“It’s good to see him like this again,” she says.

I follow her eye line. Christian now has his red guitar in hand. He and Knox battle riffs back and forth, judging the winner by the sounds of the crowd. Their own mini Battle of the Bands. Butit ultimately won’t matter in a minute when Jonah will pluck a string of his own, and they’ll all swoon for him instead.

August rubs Chrissy’s arm; a gentle, loving touch that makes my stomach rumble with a hint of envy. “He’s doing great,” he says. “Like he never left at all, huh?”

Chrissy nods. “Yeah,” she says, the word tight in her throat. She exhales and swallows hard, a smile touching her lips. “Man,Gossipais gonna be insufferable tomorrow.”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“Why?” August asks, still so new.

“A former rock god making a surprise performance with Criminal Records in New York City?” Chrissy says. “Our phones are about to blow up in a big way.”

“That’s a good thing, though, right?”

“It is,” I confirm, my eyes drifting to the stage again as I hear Jonah strumming his guitar. “But that’s Tomorrow Jordan’s problem.”

Chrissy blinks in surprise. “What?”

“That’s Tomorrow Jordan’s problem,” I repeat with a smile. “Tonight, just... have fun. Enjoy it.”

August joins her in gawking at me.

“What?” I ask.

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