Page 20 of For One Night Only

I lower my voice, trying to keep my tone soft despite the generalnoise of a bar on Saturday night. “Does that really make it better? I’m not talking about Valerie right now—we need to hold her accountable too—but you really didn’t help by dishing it back.”

Keeley raises her hands, but she looks a little sheepish. “Did I say anything untrue today?”

“It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it,” Riker says.

“That’s all I’m saying,” I say. By the way Val played last night, it’s clear she can still do this. Today wasn’t about skill—it was about old wounds. It doesn’t help that there’s a lot riding on this for Valerie. Even I can see past my hurt feelings enough to know that.

If nothing else, we’ll have to be civil to get through this.

“It’s not like any of us have had a chance to play together recently,” Riker continues, rubbing his temples. “We’re all out of sync—and it’s not all on Valerie. I forgot the chords on the bridge to ‘Fallout,’ and she was right about that ‘Ghosts’ riff—there was no excuse for screwing it up.”

He’s being generous—I don’t think he messed up on “Fallout”—but I appreciate him backing me up. Riker has always been a peacemaker, sometimes to a fault. But I get why Keeley’s upset. When my relationship with Valerie imploded, it tore the band apart. We all sacrificed a lot to pursue our music in the first place, but Keeley said no to some prestigious college offers that would have led her down a very different path. Her career has been solid, but she must have felt abandoned and hurt when the band collapsed.

I squeeze her shoulder, and she sighs, playfully shrugging me off.

“Fine,” Keeley says. “I’ll try to play nice—but Valerie’s going to take it down a notch. We also need her to remember her entrances without Jane directing everything into the talkback. Jane needs to sing.”

Jane is a fantastic harmonizer, but as our keys player, she also took on the role of cueing us onstage when we wanted to vamp orimprovise. It meant juggling two mics: one that only played into the monitors, and another that played in the actual mix, but Jane is just that good. Our sets have always been tight with her keeping us in line—but it’s not something we want to rely on.

“I think Valerie will be receptive toconstructivefeedback,” I say. Valerie has always cared about the music. “She always wants to be better.”

Keeley throws up her hands. “That’s true enough. It doesn’t mean I don’t need a drink, though.”

Fortunately, a server shows up and takes our orders. I agree to a single shot of tequila, after which I intend to nurse a beer for the rest of the night. We also order food because the menu looks incredible—a chimichanga, quesadilla, and taquito sampler with fresh guacamole and queso. This is so much better than the seafood I expected.

Mary Kate waves at us from the entrance less than an hour later, so I suspect Riker texted her before he evensuggestedwe go out, but I don’t have the heart to call him on it. Maybe we’re all hoping to drum up good press.

I’ve never been comfortable with the media, but Mary Kate is about as low-pressure as it gets. Hell, she covered us so often and for so long that she’s basically an honorary Glitter Bat at this point. I also strongly suspect she ran one of our old fan accounts, because @GlitterbugsUnofficial always knew just a littletoomuch, too soon, but she always refused to confirm—or deny—my theory. Still, my hands sweat as she approaches our table.

Mary Kate is almost as tall as Keeley in her towering heels, with shiny brown hair cascading past her shoulders and a rosy blush on her pale cheeks. She wears a crisp white button-down over black pants that make her look more like a lawyer than a journalist, but she greets each of us with a dimpled smile and a hug.

Even me.

“It’s so great to see my favorite band back together!” she says as she pulls away. “Damn, Caleb, you look great. Where have you been hiding?”

I grin. “On or off the record?”

Mary Kate laughs. “That’s up to you. Riker just invited me to hang out.”

“I wasn’t aware you werehanging-outkind of friends,” Keeley says.

Riker flushes, and Mary Kate shrugs. “Why not?” she asks. “I’ve known you all as long as anyone in this town.”

Her ease calms my nerves a bit. “Well, you’re welcome to say on the record that I’ve been exploring a new career as a music educator.”

Mary Kate makes a note in her phone, then bites her lip. “I did want to ask a quick business question before we have fun. I’d really love to get an exclusive opportunity to cover the reunion forBuzzword: visit a couple rehearsals, hang out backstage, film some interviews. You’d all have a final say in what you want to share, and I’d just be privileged to be a small part of it. What do you think?”

Riker nods. “That would be rad!” Keeley shoots him a look, so he quickly backpedals. “Butwe should probably make sure the rest of the band is on board, so I think it’s best if you formally run it past Wade. But I’ll tell him I’m in.”

I swallow—filmed interviews?—but I nod. “Me too.”

We turn to Keeley, who runs a hand through her bob. “Fine, but I’m not talking about my feelings regarding the reunion on the record.”

Mary Kate’s eyes widen, and I know she wants to ask about the tension, but thankfully she holds back. “So are any of you going to go up there, or is this just observing for fun?”

Keeley grins. “Oh, I already signed Caleb up.”

All the blood drains from my face. “What?” When the hell didshe even have time to do that? She hasn’t left the table. I know I agreed to this, but I thought I had more time to gather my nerves.

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