Page 34 of Knot Their Opening Act

What can only be described as a limp and lethargic round of applause zig-zags lazily through the crowd. I swear, the applause from the guys behind me on stage is louder. But this pathetic response is not what I’m used to hearing. And even if it’s not for me, I’m not having it.

“C’mon, I mean it. We’re indebted to her for warming you buggers up, so get off your arses and make some fucking noise!”

That gets them going a bit more, and I spot a couple of people further out with JEZ WOULD NEVER signs, presumably referencing both her song calledWould Never With You, and the fact that she’s opening for us and her most devoted fans largely hate our guts. They wave the sign around with all their might and I point in their direction.

“She might never with you, but she hasn’t said as much to me.”

Oh. My. Christ, why the fuck did I say that?

“Hahahah, okay guys,” I blunder onwards. “This isClear Blue Nothing.”

I spin around to face the stage with eyes like saucers and an empty chasm for a gut. Thomas’s eyes are closed and he’s shaking his head. Holden looks like he’s trying to decide between laughing and calling me a cunt. Nico looks like he’s just seen a car crash.

For the rest of the gig I don’t dare make eye contact with Ash, or even Steve who’s standing just off the stage with his arms crossed. I dive straight into the song, lose myself in the lyrics, and hope to God I can remember the chord progression.

If she didn’t hate me before, I’ve made sure she will now.

Maybe that’s what I want.

CHAPTER18

Jez

I’m done.I tried to be nice. I tried to tell myself this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to take my career up to the next level. And this is what I get—Kai fucking Hartley dropping a bold-faced lie that we are an item. Insinuating that I’ve let him anywhere near me. Mocking me.

I can’t deal with this. I tap my nails on the hotel room desk while the phone rings through to Viv.

“Pick up, please. If ever I needed to?—”

But the line goes dead. What?

I press her number again and it goes straight through to voicemail. Ah, she must be on the line already. Probably video chatting with one of her pack since they like to keep tabs on her all day while they’re at work.

Viv, I’ve always said, “What would I do without you.” Well, I’m about to find out.

And P.S. you are irreplaceable, no matter what happens next.

I think that before I actually just text her that exact message and ask her to call me later, but if tonight’s too late, don’t worry. I spend enough time anxious about her health and the babies’, too, and I don’t want her thinking I put myself above any of that.

But it is a lonely realization. As thrilled as I am for her and her pack, and these babies at what an awesome mum they’re going to have, I’m sad for me. That’s selfish as hell. But if nothing else, I am honest.

I stomp around the room and boil the kettle for tea, but I really don’t want tea. I want a massive cocktail. Espresso martini. Though I probably don’t need the espresso. Just give me a bottle of Vodka.

Tomorrow’s down to Leeds, and the day after, mercifully, to London. I’ll get to see a doctor before soundcheck, and get a new prescription for heat suppressants, and the worst of this current shitshow can relent. And then it’s just dealing with Kai and his infuriating suggestion to the Edinburgh audience—and the entirety of the world via social media—thatI wouldwith him. Using my song against me. Using myfansagainst me.

He can take that notion and shove it up his little bitch ass and fuck off while he’s doing it.

It’s just gone midnight, and I will not be sleeping tonight, even though Caylee’s coming to get me at 6 a.m.

I pace across the thick carpet, barefoot, and stop before the drinks fridge. Then I turn back toward my suitcase, pull out my sneakers and workout clothes, and get changed.

After pulling my socks and sneakers on, though, I perch on the side of the bed. Tiredness is there, but I pick up my phone again—still no response from Viv and I think, at this point, she’s got to be asleep—and I open a social media app.

Big. Mistake.

I didn’t look before because I knew it would be there. My text message inbox has 64 unread messages. I don’t have 64 real-life friends. I don’t even really have six friends, but I do have a lot of industry contacts.

My social media is the problem. I’m tagged in over400new posts, including videos and photos. Most of those will just be people at the show, either my fans or Fable’s, recording their proof-of-life at the tour.

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