“Little Mariano, always a pleasure,” I grit out.
“I’ve never been able to say the same. Though I’m excited for this week because it means I’ll never have to see you again once it’s over.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Last week I had to upgrade one of my streaming services because I kept getting served that god awful perfume ad you’re in.”
I do the same thing I have for years—I widen my smile, pretend I don’t care, and let her words roll off my back. “Does it get exhausting thinking about me so much?”
“Is it hard getting through doors when your head’s so grotesquely large?” she counters.
“Garrett, why didn’t you just leave her at the airport?” I grumble and slant a look to my friend who has yet to come to my defense.
“Oh shut it, Wesley,” Garrett bites. There’s very little that frazzles him, but the younger Mariano is at the top of the list. He’s protective of her. Or, at least, that’s whathecalls it. Whenever they’ve been in the same room together over the last few years, he stares when he thinks no one else is looking. He’s fucking doomed if you ask me.
We continue bickering as we head inside. The space is sparse. On one wall a stage is already set up with our instruments. Around it, a few old couches are arranged with thick blankets draped over them.
Just as we’re scheduled to start, Luca and a woman with light brown hair secured in a ponytail walk in together.
Honestly, I’m surprised he’s on time. Over the last three months, we’ve had virtual and in-person meetings. He missed the first one and was late to the others. These days, he’s running a tourist trap bar filled with band memorabilia, so you’d think he’d give a damn. But all he seems to care about is capitalizing on our success while doing as little work as possible.
Evelyn boosts herself off the stage. When she reaches the woman, she flings her arms around her. “We have someone important to introduce you to. Oh, and Wes, if you so much as think about touching her, I will cut off your favorite body part. Okay?” she threatens, baring her teeth in a bitter smile.
“Understood.” I wink and throw her a grin, even as shame curdles my stomach. I did this. I have no right to feel sorry for myself.
Garrett catches my eye, and I force my smile to brighten. “Martin’s daughter, right?” he asks, reaching out his hand. Now that Garrett says it, it’s obvious that she has the same cloudy gray-blue eyes as Martin.
The woman shakes the proffered hand, looking skeptically at my bandmates.
“Yes, but I prefer it when people use my name. Lacey Decker.” Her voice is firm with a touch of defiance.
Garrett nods approvingly at her correction.
The door flies open again as Jared finally joins, red hair disheveled and dark circles hang under his brown eyes. “Sorry, guys, the call ran late. Apparently, someone has a crush on the babysitter because she beats him at video games. Let’s get this going so I can go home to my kids.”
“You don’t like us all that much anymore,” I tease, attempting to blunt the sharp dagger of truth.
I never imagined being in one of those bands that lasted forever. Touring endlessly and riding the high of a handful of hit songs. But for a time, I thought the four of us would last. That we had something special we’d refuse to let go of.
“I’ve known you idiots for almost two decades. I only have a few more years with them before they want nothing to do with me, and I’m not wasting a single minute of that shit.” Jared hurries to the stage, boosting himself up with practiced ease.
The girls settle on the couch as we start playing, the pressure in my chest lifting with the familiarity of the act. Ten years and it’s still second nature.
We play through “Ronnie,” lyrics spilling from my lips.“Did you ruin him like you ruined me?”I step forward, musclememory taking charge. “Your touch my favorite liability. I’m yours to haunt, Ronnie.”
Garrett joins in,moving up next to me.“I was a player before I retired my dice,”he sings.“You’re no gamble. You’re worth any price.”
Together, we weave a fantasy, two friends torn apart by the greatest thing there is: love.
Luca is behind by the time we reach the bridge, all of us compensating as the drumline that’s supposed to be our backbone, breaks. He used to be so steady, and now it feels like he’s winging it. Why is he throwing away this second chance? He should want this more than any of us, yet he doesn’t seem to care.
“You were behind,” I snap, the final note still hanging in the air. Doesn’t he get it? How important this night is going to be? There are no repeats or do overs.
“Sorry,” he says, eyes fixing on his hands. A tremor runs through them for a moment, but then he flexes them and it’s gone.
“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it. We have to be just as good, if not better. We have to give everyone what they’re paying for when we walk out there.” It’s easy to pretend I’m thinking about the audience instead of the gnawing desperation that’s devouring me from the inside out.
Jared takes a defensive step in front of Luca. “It’s not a big deal. That’s why we’re practicing. We’ll be perfect. Just let us get back into the groove of things first.”
I attempt to shake off my frustration, still it clings to me. “Fine. Let’s start again.”
We do, but this time it’s obvious that the air is poisoned by the past. Luca stumbles again, and I try to brush it off. No one else seems bothered.
