Page 75 of Four More The Merrier

They reach me simultaneously, each wearing an expectant expression.

"Four! Three!"

Their faces shift from hope to confusion as they notice each other.

"Two! One!"

Understanding dawns in their eyes, followed by anger. Jarron's jaw clenches. Austen's hands ball into fists. Beau's usual warmth turns to ice. Lyle just looks hurt.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The crowd erupts in celebration, but our little bubble remains frozen in tension. Without a word, they turn and walk away in different directions, leaving me alone in a sea of kissing couples.

35

AUSTEN

The tension from last night hangs thick in the air as we take the stage. I catch Quinn's eye backstage - she looks worried, and I can't blame her. My fingers feel stiff on the guitar strings as we launch into our opening number.

"Let's give it up for Just South of Mason!" The announcer's voice booms through the arena.

Jarron steps up to his mic, but his voice cracks on the first verse. I see Beau roll his eyes, and something in me snaps.

"Maybe if you weren't so busy chasing tail, you'd remember how to sing," I mutter, just loud enough for the mics to pick up.

Jarron whips around heading in my direction. "Fuck this, and fuck you Austen"

"Guys, mics " Lyle warns.

The next thing I know, Jarron lunges at me. My guitar clatters to the stage as we grapple, throwing wild punches. Lyle tries to separate us but gets caught in the crossfire. Security rushes forward but they're too slow.

Through the chaos, I hear Quinn's voice, clear and strong, picking up the song where we left off. She strides onto stage,guitar in hand, commanding the crowd's attention away from our embarrassing display as security finally pulls us apart.

"Get them out of here," Monica hisses from the side stage.

I catch one last glimpse of Quinn, standing in the spotlight, saving our show as we're dragged away like schoolboys after a playground fight. The crowd's cheering for her grows fainter as we're marched through the back corridors, and shame burns hot in my chest.

Monica storms into the green room, her heels clicking against the floor like gunshots. My jaw still throbs where Jarron caught me with a right hook.

"What in the actual hell was that?" She slams the door behind her. "You're trending on Twitter, and not in a good way. '#JSOMMeltdown' is going viral."

"He started-" Jarron begins.

"I don't give a damn who started it!" Monica's face flushes red. "You know who's out there right now, saving your asses? Quinn. The same girl you all were so worried would embarrass the band."

Beau shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Lyle holds an ice pack to his eye where he caught a stray elbow.

"Get your shit together and get back to the tour bus." Monica's voice drops dangerously low. "Figure this out tonight, or you can start looking for a new label tomorrow. I mean it."

"What about the rest of the show?" I ask, running my hands through my hair.

"Quinn's handling it. She's more professional than all of you combined right now." Monica heads for the door, then turns back. "Oh, and boys? This little love triangle - or square, or whatever geometric disaster this is? Sort it out. Because right now, the only one looking like a real musician up there is her."

The door slams behind her. Silence fills the room like smoke.

"Well," Lyle finally says, "she's not wrong."

"Shut up," Jarron and I say in unison.

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