Page 35 of For One Night Only

“That could be super cool,” I agree. “For my students, I’d like to talk about how we take care of our voices during long weeks of rehearsal, how we use the techniques I’m teaching them in a real, practical way. We could get into finding harmonies, listening for blend, and then expand into other instruments and some industry info.”

“I’d love to talk about some of the composition work I do for film and TV too,” Jane adds. “It could be like Crash Course, but specifically focused on music. We could film everything thissummer and then release them on a set schedule this fall. I know we said we’d stop the content after the concert, but this could be a way to give back.”

This is so much better than I anticipated. Not only is the band willing to do this, but they’re running with it. Valerie’s right—it reminds me of how it felt talking to those music students. But something makes me pause.

“Do you think we need the label’s permission?”

“Absolutely not. This has nothing to do with them,” Keeley says, flipping her honey-blond hair out of her face. “Fuck the label.”

Not a minute later, a knock sounds on the door. Wade slips in, followed by a couple people I vaguely recognize from the label—including Gina, unfortunately, who gives me a sharklike grin as she enters the room in towering heels and a power suit. Fortunately, these walls are pretty dang soundproof, but Keeley is still on her best behavior, rising quickly to greet everyone with a handshake and a polite smile in case they overheard.

I try to follow her lead. It’s been way too long since I’ve done any of this, and I’m really rusty, but I know how to be professional. So I keep my shoulders back and smile at the group, jaw so tight I can barely breathe. Once we’ve all exchanged pleasantries, the executives and Wade sit in the folding chairs we set out in front of the practice stage.

“Do you have any new music to share with us?” Gina asks as we step onto the stage.

“Absolutely not,” I blurt, shoulders tensing.

Riker coughs. We’re supposed to let Wade be the bad guy—that’s his job.

“This is a reunion only, and as such, the band will be focusing on old favorites. There are no plans to release new music,” Wade says quickly.

“Well, that’s going to disappoint a lot of people,” Gina says.Anxiety starts to flutter in my chest, but I’m grounded by the softest of touches. It’s Valerie, brushing my pinkie with her own—reminding me I’m not alone in this.

Just one rehearsal. I can get through one rehearsal with these people, and then one more. One thing at a time.

“Take it away, kiddos,” Wade says.

Valerie swaggers over to her mic. “Good afternoon! We’ve only been rehearsing together for a few weeks, but we hope you’re excited to get a small peek at our concert set. We’ll start with ‘Ghosts,’ ” she says, reaching down to shoulder her guitar.

Keeley counts us off, and we all jump in on cue. Maybe I am anxious, because my mouth goes dry, and I have to blink hard to focus on the verse. Then I make eye contact with Valerie, who winks as she sings her line. All my nerves melt away into warm focus, because deep in my heart, I know I’m okay—as long as I’m looking at her.

And even with this audience, we’re on fire. Keeley’s beat is impeccable, Jane’s sound is spot-on, and Riker and Valerie play on top of it all while I keep the bass line strong. Valerie and I each take a verse on this song, and she jumps in harmony on my chorus, but it’s the bridge that’s really special, and you can feel the anticipation in the room as we build up to it.

We always wrote it so I would jump up the octave and she’d layer in a perfect belting harmony, but that doesn’t feel right in the moment. So instead, I jerk my chin up, inviting her to share my mic the way we did so many times in the past.

I don’t think she’s going to do it—she could just turn back to the room the way she did at karaoke a few weeks ago and no one would know the difference. But this new, confident Valerie strides over to my microphone with purpose.

Jane nods at us and adds the bass line on her keyboard, so Iswing the bass over my shoulder. Valerie keeps playing her guitar part, but I point to her and then to me, and she nods.

And just like that, we’re alternating lines in the bridge over the mic, like two people having a conversation about a past life. We somehow justknowthat in the last lines of the bridge, she sings the harmony, and I jump in up high.

And it’s in that moment that I remember something I’d said to her late one night years ago, when we were both exhausted after a long rehearsal, tangled together in hotel sheets.

Sharing a microphone makes me want you.

And fuck.

Maybe that’s still true.

Set List

Final Glitter Bats Concert: Las Vegas—August 1, Six Years Ago

MIDNIGHT ROAD TRIP

ALL MY FRIENDS ARE VAMPIRES

EVERY TOUCH

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