Page 33 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"Was it?" I challenged, glancing over her shoulder to where the rest of the group was huddling protectively around the sandwiches.

Diane smiled wryly and nodded. "I'd rather have your worst than not have you here at all."

And that…that made me want to fucking cry. No, it made me actually cry. No one had offered that to me, not even Kiernan. No one had said Sure, Hannah, be the absolute shittiest, most avoidant and immature version of you today; you're welcome. And to be fair, there weren't very many places aside from therapy that one should be allowed to show up as their worst self. The words reminded me of my mom, of the absolute devotion she'd raised me with, loving me determinedly even during our teen year screaming matches. Fuck, I missed my mom. And I was also so damn relieved she hadn't lived to this point, because I wasn't sure I could take her loving me now too. Diane let me turn my face away, doing so herself so that we were two people shoulder to shoulder, facing in opposite directions.

"You can't accept yourself if you refuse to know yourself," Diane said. I pursed my lips, but she continued, "And absolutely nothing will turn you into the werewolf who bit you, but a choice to be like them. Which you aren't going to make."

The words didn't feel true, a small band-aid for a massive burn wound, but I also couldn't really argue with them, so I just stood, staring across the room to the cluster of folding chairs until Diane drifted away from me again.

I knew the moment Lawrence walked in without his bass, and I think Kiernan must've understood too, but he still asked.

"L? What's up?"

"I just wanted to do this face-to-face," Lawrence said, and there was a bit of performance to the statement, to him standing there with his hands in his pockets, but his words wobbled too.

Mikey stopped fastening on the top hat, an echoing hiss and rattle carrying around our rehearsal space. We'd been awkward together, setting up to rehearse in silence instead of the usual easy conversation. Except the conversation hadn't been easy in months, and anyway my head was too full to notice until Lawrence walked in, speech ready. And still, I was busy thinking about Diane and Rafe and George and the call I needed to make to give him my decision about the tour today.

Lawrence hadn't waited. He probably thought he knew what I'd say.

"I have a spot with The Garfields," he said, rocking back on his heels, not meeting my eyes. "Label's got half a dozen songs ready, and they just needed a bassist and…and a drummer."

We all turned to stare at Mikey. Lawrence hadn't just come to tell us he was quitting the band. He'd come to poach Mikey. For a band a label was smashing together, probably one that would sound exactly like whatever indie darling was gathering steam lately. God, maybe even to sound like us.

"I'm sorry, but I can't afford to wait," Lawrence said, not sounding sorry at all. And I'd rolled Kiernan's speech around in my head for a month. I wasn't sure if any of them needed to be sorry. Sure, we'd been friends for a while, in the process of being a band. But where Mikey and Lawrence were concerned, it was more like co-workers you were lucky enough to get along with. "Mikey…spot's yours if you want it."

Right in fucking front of me.

"Not the move, Lawrence," Kiernan muttered, twisting away from him and running a shaking hand through his hair. Probably because he knew he should've been making the exact same move.

"I'm—" Mikey started and then paused, and I couldn't help but look back at him. He was staring at his half-assembled kit, and then at Lawrence, and then at me and Kiernan. A sort of hopeless resignation crossed his face, and I thought, That's it, we're over. And then he said, "Nah, man, I'm good."

Which couldn't have been true. He definitely had no reason to feel secure here with me and Kiernan, especially now that the band was down a bassist and I hadn't coughed up a decision. But he offered Lawrence a sheepish smile and a shake of his head to really set the words in stone. I wanted to walk over and grab his round face in my hands and smack a giant kiss on his forehead. I'd done that sort of thing in the past, played the part of their demanding and doting mother hen, setting the rules of our family down and praising them for good behavior. We weren't that anymore, but maybe we could end up somewhere else that wasn't so bad.

After we found a new bassist.

And actually, losing Lawrence wasn't that much of a burden. He was handsome and charismatic, and he was a good musician, but he was also a challenging dickhead who spoke over me whenever he could. There would be other bassists.

I turned back to Lawrence, who'd had lost some of the wind in his sails from Mikey's refusal, and who now looked like he wasn't quite so sure about this announcement he'd brought to us. I tried not to feel smug.

"I'm sorry," I said to Lawrence, shrugging.

I could've told him. It might've resulted in history's most enthusiastic about-face. Except then Lawrence would still be in the band, and now that he was walking out…I was glad.

Kiernan let out a heavy sigh and crossed to the couch, collapsing into the cushions, and I really needed Lawrence to leave so I could put K and Mikey out of their misery.

"Right," Lawrence said, staring at us once more each in turn. He nodded again and repeated the word. "Right."

"We'll come see a show," I said, and Lawrence's brow furrowed. Too magnanimous, then. It was making him suspicious.

"Yeah. Yeah, cool. Umm…I'll see you guys. And…good luck," he said, offering the last words over his shoulder, a little bitterly.

Neither Mikey nor Kiernan moved as Lawrence left, and I held my breath until the door that led down to the bar shut behind him.

"Fuck," Kiernan muttered.

"George will set up the auditions," I said.

Kiernan sat up, lips pressed flat and face too pale for a moment. "Will he?" Kiernan challenged.

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