Page 37 of For One Night Only

If I could go back and do anything over, I’d only sign on forWanderlust, our first album. But when Label Records flew us down to LA, they offered us what was essentially a ten-year 360 deal—which means they pay for all Glitter Bats touring, merchandising, and promo, and in return, they get an offensively large cut of every stream of revenue. We didn’t know we were signing our lives away; we just couldn’t believe someone wanted us to make albums.

After scrimping and saving in those early years just to make it to gigs within driving distance, the idea of them paying for everything was too good to resist. By the time we thought to hire an entertainment lawyer, it was too late. It doesn’t help that my mom knew absolutely nothing about contracts. She’s a boutique hotel manager, not a contract expert.

Or, at least, she was a boutique hotel manager.

I don’t know how she managed to swing it, but she got paid quite a bit during the early Glitter Bats days. Now, she’s always on a plane to a different vacation, and I never know what time zone she’ll be in. Not that I mind. My mom and I don’t exactly talk unless she needs something—usually once or twice a year.

Which is why everything in me goes cold as Tonya Quinn walks into the studio. She’s wearing a Dolce & Gabbana sweat suit that makes her look like a wannabe Kardashian, and because of this cosplay she feels the need to wear her Prada sunglasses inside.

My mother, the picture of class.

“Mom. Who told you where we were?” I ask, obnoxiously using the mic instead of speaking into the room. An old bad habit.

“That’s no way to greet your mother. Come here!” she says, arms wide.

I feel a brush of fingers against my elbow, and it’s Caleb, reminding me I’m not alone.

He knows more than anyone how stressful her presence is for me. One of the things Caleb and I bonded over was having difficult mothers. His mom is actually really sweet; she’s just unreliable andbad at making decisions. With Tonya, it’s all so calculated. She doesn’t care that she’s hurting me over and over again; she just cares that she can get something from me. We were the famous ones, but the Glitter Bats’ success was always about her. She took credit for every single win.

And now she’s here.

“My assistant invited her,” Gina says, as if reading my expression. “She’s still a party to this contract, and it was only right to involve her.”

“Frankly, I’m appalled you didn’t call me yourself, Valerie. I had to hear about this from anassistant!” Mom says—then she laughs, fake and brittle, like she’s just made the funniest joke. As if an assistant is beneath her level.

My stomach drops.

“Hilarious,” Keeley says dryly. She’s never hidden her disdain for my mom, especially not after everything we went through with her as our manager. Because of the nature of our contract, Mom sided with the label on every request, no matter how demeaning or offensive it was. Once, we were even forced to do an ad for “rockin’ deals” at a furniture store.

She’s never on my side. If she’s here, it’s for her.

I grit my teeth, turn off my mic, and shuffle over to my mother like I’m walking the plank. She envelops me in a stiff hug that smells like cigarettes and Chanel No. 9, and I try not to cough.

“We really do need to get back,” I say.

“You are such a little workaholic, just like you were in high school! You can take a break,” she says, giving my shoulder a sharp squeeze with her manicure. “Breaks are good for you.”

Says the woman who has beentaking a breakever since she got that first Glitter Bats check. Sure, she technically manages a few bands now, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her do any real work. (Then again, I try to keep as much distance between us as possible.)Still, she’s raking it in enough to fund her lifestyle of designer clothing, luxury hotels, and fabulous vacations.

“We literally just got started,” I say, backing away from her clutch.

Caleb hurries to my side. “Hi, Ms. Quinn. What if you take a seat next to Wade—he can fill you in on all of the details we’ve worked out so far. We wanted to show everyone a few more songs, and then we’d be more than happy to catch up over dinner? You choose the place.”

“Oh, Caleb, sweetie, you’re always such a good boy, but I can’t stay,” she croons. Of course she can’t. “I’m just dropping in for a bit. Think of me like a fly on the wall.”

Yeah, one I want to swat.

But I don’t say that. I just head back to the stage and try to relax the tension in my shoulders. Of course my mother would show up just when things are feeling solid. Just my rotten luck. I get why Label invited her, but I don’t understand why she’s here.

What the hell does shewant?

“I think this is a good time for ‘Vampires,’ don’t you?” Keeley asks, quiet enough so no one else can hear. We wrote the song about what our fame did to some of the people in our lives, always expecting some perk because of us.

“Perfect,” I say, pushing my shoulders back.

With a scowl disguised as deep focus, Caleb begins the thrumming bass line, the tick in his jaw the only clue to his true feelings. I sing the first verse solo, staring right at my mom as I lean into the pre-chorus.

but they take, take, take

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