Page 19 of For One Night Only

“Yikes,” Keeley mutters.

“It’s…a lot,” I say.

“Well, the reviews are good.” Riker laughs, gently punching my shoulder. “So they have a huge selection on tap for you beer snobs, but they also have a full bar, and I’m thinking we need shots. Desperately.”

We find an open table close to the stage. As soon as we’re seated, we start scanning the sticky drink menu.

“I will do exactly one round of shots, Riker. I do not bounce back the way I did in my early twenties, and I’m not about to suffer one of those hellish practices with a hangover,” Keeley says.

I nod, thinking about the last time I got drunk at Cam and Leah’s and crashed on their couch for a good twelve hours afterward. “One round is about my max too.”

“Will that be enough to convince you to sing?” Riker asks, tilting his head at the stage, twisting his mouth into a wry smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Keeley says. “With all the press about the reunion, that’s just asking to go viral. No thank you.”

I open my mouth to agree with her, because we both know Riker isn’t serious.

But then I remember the pressure on Valerie’s public image—the whole band’s image. The thing is, I do still know Valerie. She was stressed out today, which is why she lashed out. It’s not okay, but maybe if there were less pressure, she wouldn’t be so wound up.

And I think I can help with that.

“Maybe it’s not the worst idea to be…seen,” I say. “Out in public…having fun together. It’ll be good press for the reunion.” The idea makes my stomach churn, but we might as well dive in headfirst.

Riker’s eyes widen. “Hey, if you’re serious, I can see if MK is around. I’m sure she’d love to get a quick sound bite.”

My mind reels, and I clutch the tabletop, immediately regretting everything. I don’t know if I’m ready for publicity. The familiar buzz of anxiety hums in the back of my brain, and I close my eyes for a second, trying to ease out of the mental spiral.

“You just want an excuse to see your little crush,” Keeley says.

“I do not have a little crush!” Riker insists, gaping. Which is hilarious, because he’s been watching her with puppy-dog eyes from afar since that first interview. “We’ve just…stayed in touch is all. She texted me a congratulations when the announcement dropped.”

Mary Kate Hampton is a journalist who’s been covering the Glitter Bats from the start. It was kind of random at the time—no one wanted to write another story about viral teenagers with no record deal, so they gave the story to the college intern. But as we took off, so did Mary Kate’s career. Her Glitter Bats coverage earned her a permanent staff writing job on the entertainment beat forBuzzword.

I’ve always liked Mary Kate. Even with the constant speculation about me and Valerie in the media, Mary Kate did her best to take a wider approach, focusing on the band as a whole. She never tried to trick us into saying something embarrassing orsensational—she just did her job. The same can’t be said for a lot of her peers.

If we’re going to do this, I trust Mary Kate to do it right.

“You should text her,” I say, heart hammering at the thought of inviting the attention. But it’s going to happen sooner or later.

“You can’t be serious,” Keeley says. “Dude, you can ease into it. I know this is going to be a lot for you.”

I shoot her a grateful glance. “It’s better than being spotted by someone we don’t trust. You all wanted to go out, but we know the risks of that. Inviting Mary Kate ensures at least a balanced report.”

Riker nods, looking at his phone. “Well, that’s good, because she’s already on her way. I’ll text Jane too, see if she can get Valerie out.”

That makes sense for the optics, but my shoulders tense at the idea of playing nice with Valerie for the press, especially after this afternoon. I know we’re going to have to do it eventually, but today felt sooff. Faking it isn’t going to be fun, especially since all it does is bring back the memories of how easy it used to be.

Back in the Glitter Bats heyday, a tough rehearsal rarely made us snipe at one another. We were a cohesive unit, able to get past our issues and focus on the music. And with Valerie, it was like I could read her mind. I could tell where she was headed during a song, when she wanted to take things in a different direction, even when she wanted to improvise—I just knew implicitly what made her tick, both as a musician and as a partner.

Until I got it all wrong.

“What, so we can be seen as the big happy family we used to be?” Keeley drawls, practically reading my mind.

But I need Keeley to chill out.

I sigh. “You know, we might be able to get through a rehearsal if you didn’t keep antagonizing her.”

“She was antagonizing me back!” Keeley says.

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