Page 135 of Before Now

I haven’t even brought the phone to my ear when I hear a shocked, “Holy shit.”

Then, “You never answer. I mean, I knew you were still part of the club since you’ve texted me anytime you get a new number, which is a lot, by the way, but seriously?”

The voice and cadence and rambling rips through me until a shocked numbness takes over. Or maybe a disbelieving one. Either way, I can’t move. Can’t speak.

But she barely takes a breath. She never did. “I call youevery yearon Remi Day, and the one time I worked a double and call a day late, you pick up?”

I swallow, my heart thrashing in my chest at my name even through the numbness. When it becomes undeniable who called Foster’s phone. Who knows Foster to even call him.

“Hellooo?” Sage says. “You?—”

The door swings open, and I end the call. I look up as Colton slows down, scanning me over. I’m breathing hard even though it feels like I’m not at all. Dizzy for a completely different reason than when Foster left.

“You good, lioness?” Colton asks, two lines between his brows.

After a few blinks, my eyes fall to the phone screen again. I try to swallow, but my mouth and throat are too dry.

“Remi.”

My attention jerks up, his expression even more concerned.

Then the sensations flood back in. The reality of what just happened crystallizes in my head. Whether it was shock or disbelief freezing me before, it morphs into something else now. Anger. Or maybe hurt? No, this time it’s very much both.

I grab my bag, pushing to my feet, and rush by Colton, not sure I could answer him if I tried.

“Hey,” he calls after me, but I’m already charging down the hall. “Hold the fuck on, Remi.” He catches my arm, but I wrench away.

“Let me go, Colt.”

He darts in front of me, blocking my path. “Not until you explain what the fuck is wrong.”

I look up at him, searching for words, for an explanation without exposing every bloody wound. “The world is full of liars and the oblivious,” I tell him.

“Okay, cool.” Then he shrugs and asks, “What the hell does that have to do with why you’re upset?”

One side of my mouth lifts, the smile broken. “I always thought I was a liar.” I force a breath through the threat of tears—I don’t even know the reason behind them. But that’s the problem.

I hand over Foster’s phone. “Tell Foster we’re doing his solo interview. Tonight. Center stage.”

37

FOSTER

While Christian doeshis manager thing, pacing and talking about merch sales, Dev has his tongue shoved in his cheek, twisting the ring on his finger.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice between us.

His eyes dart to me, an exhaustion in them that wasn’t there earlier. “He’s stalling. We aren’t going to be happy when he finally gets to the point.”

From his other side, Felix hangs his head back to see me, joining the conversation. “Our guy was lurking around on his phone earlier. Anytime either of us came close, he’d do a floor routine to avoid us being in earshot.”

“Goddamn it,” I say at full volume, causing Christian to stop and look at us. “What the fuck did the label want?”

Christian sucks at his teeth, taking a power pose with his hands on his hips. He sighs. “They want you in the studio a week earlier.”

Felix’s head drops back again, only this time he stares at the ceiling, his jaw working overtime. Dev swings his gaze to me again. We soul-read with the music, but in moments like this, it pops through too.

A week earlier. We only had nine days between our last show and our first session. Originally, we were supposed to have a month. Mac pushed for sooner before we left on tour. They wanted it bad enough to kick in perks, but fuck.

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