Page 44 of In the Stars

Mitch falls into step on my right while Kas walks on my left. “Not much. We’ve mostly been resting. We had a tour every year since our second year as Lana’s Mischief. It didn’t seem so bad until we had time to slow down. I’ve missed a lot of sleep.”

Kas adds, “And normal shit. I’ve been binge-watching a TV show. It’s about two brothers that hunt ghostsand demons and shit. It has fifteen seasons with like twenty episodes a season. I’ve been fucking devouring them.”

“I need a new show to watch,” I tell him. “What is it?”

He tells me the name, and I hum, remembering scrolling past it on a streaming service. I see the appeal of the show for an entirely different reason. The taller of the brothers in that show reminds me of Jaxon, except Jaxon has different colored eyes and facial hair.

We stop at a pretty empty restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It’s no use pretending we’re not Lana’s Mischief, since neither Kas nor Mitch have bothered to disguise themselves, so I remove my glasses and push back my hood. Hopefully no one bothers us until we’ve eaten. I’m starving.

Our server stares like he’s never seen humans before and has to ask Mitch to repeat his order twice as he tries his damndest not to fanboy all over us. Mitch and Kas take it in stride, used to dealing with fans.

Not me. I never interacted with them with a clear mind, and the times I did, I wasn’t very nice to them. I did meet and greets and signed autographs because I had to, not because I cared about our fans. It was shitty, now when I reflect on it.

After he takes our orders, I sit back in the booth and look between Kas and Mitch. “I missed you two.”

“Yeah, we know,” Mitch says, winking. “That’s why we came. We may have missed you too.”

“And wanted to check on you in person,” Kas adds. “We’ve texted but decided to see you in the flesh. It’s kinda weird not seeing you all the time.”

“I was just thinking that,” I tell them honestly. “That’s why I called. Hadn’t seen your ugly mugs in weeks.”

“Ugly,” Mitch asks incredulously. “You do remember which of the three of us was voted sexiest man alive, right?”

Me and Kas groan. Mitch scored sexiest man alive ten years ago, and he’ll never let us forget it. But he is good looking with his intense eyes, tattoos everywhere, and piercings glinting in the lights. Bad-boy looks with a kind heart and a halfway decent singing voice.

Kas bumps Mitch with his elbow. “Let it go, man. You got a pity vote, that’s all.”

“Hater.”

The two of them bicker back and forth, ribbing each other like we used to when we were playing with Vic in my garage. It’s nice to see that some things never change.

Kas and Mitch have been best friends since they were in diapers, their mothers growing up together and moving to the same neighborhood when they graduated high school. I’m honored they accepted me into their circle, even though I didn’t appreciate it before.

When the server brings our food back, he mumbles, “Can I have an autograph?”

I look at Mitch and Kas, then shrug. “Got a pen?”

The way the young server’s face lights up has me smiling. I didn’t realize people would be this ecstatic with just my shitty signature on a piece of paper.

He passes me a pen from his apron and a napkin with a shaking hand. I scroll my autograph on it and pass it to my bandmates. They sign under my name, and Mitch gives it back to the server.

He holds the napkin to his chest reverently. “Thank you. I’ve been a fan for years. I can’t wait to tell my friends you were here today. They’re going to flip.”

I should have done this a long time ago. Making people happy by doing something so small actually makes me happy. I can’t wait to tell Jaxon about this.

He makes to step away from the table, then turnsaround and looks at me. “Any chance you’ll reform the band? I had tickets to the Spokane show since the one here in Seattle was sold out, but it got canceled. It was going to be my first concert.”

Well fuck, that deflates me. Not enough to get drawn into a pissy mood but enough that the fucking mirror I thought I got rid of is back in my fucking face. If I weren’t so strung out, we would have been there. It was the last stop on our tour, and I should have been focused on that more than I was on using.

Pasting on a smile I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes, I say, “You never know. I needed some time to get my shit together, but something may change in the future.”

You’d think I told the kid there was cure for cancer. He does this little giggle thing, then kinda dances in place. He realizes he’s at work and stops, smoothing the front of his apron, but the look of joy is etched on his face. “I hope you do. Your music really helped me when I was having a hard time. I met my friends through a message board about Lana’s Mischief. So…thank you.” His cheeks turn red, and he hurries away as if embarrassed.

That touches me. I always thought our music was just something to pass the time, not a reason someone had friends.

Mitch sighs dramatically. “That’s what being a celebrity is all about, gentlemen. Making kids dance like they’re alone in the middle of their shift.”

Kas and I laugh at him and dig into our food. Conversation flows between us like it did before I went to rehab; I’m glad I don’t have anything to worry about. It would be better if Vic had grown old to join us, but I don’t think either of us would have stopped using. We loved getting high together too much.

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