Seth whistled long and low.
"Jessie's gonna kill him," he leaned over and murmured under his breath to Julian.
That got the blogger's attention.
"So Seth, how does it feel to be the runt of the group?" he asked.
Seth's eyes went wide, astounded, before narrowing dangerously. His lips pressed into a harsh line.
"We're not going to sit here and take this bullshit," Liam spoke up firmly. "You need to leave now."
The blogger sized him up and nodded. "Right, you're Liam Knight. Your old band never made it anywhere so now you're just a session guitarist. You ever think about going back to being a real musician, or are you okay with being a has-been?"
Liam’s fist clenched and shook. I had no doubt he was five seconds away from punching the guy in the face.
The blogger turned his attention back to me.
“Cerise, I heard you and the drummer from Feral Silence used to be in a band together but you broke up. What happened all those years ago? If you had stayed together, do you think you’d actually be a world famous band by now instead of just a small time act?”
Gael flew from his chair, glaring at the guy.
My throat closed up, all air leaving my lungs.
I’d been trying not to think about it. Trying not to remember.
But of course, today of all days, someone had to bring it up.
Today, on the anniversary of Harper’s death.
I inhaled sharply through my nose and steeled myself.
"If you don't have any real questions to ask, you can get the hell out right now," I said.
“If you guys don’t want to answer the questions your fans are asking…” he shrugged blithely.
“No one’s asking those questions,” Gael growled.
The guy popped up from his seat. “Fine, then.” He began to put his tripod away. “I’ll go interview that boring opening band of yours. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to say.”
The guy strode out the door, leaving the band to stare at one another.
“What the fuck was that?” Julian asked, so shaken he’d actually joined the conversation for once.
“A fucking asshole, that's what,” Seth bit out.
Seth had always been sensitive about being the youngest. For a while he hadn’t even been able to legally drink at the clubs we’d played at. Maybe it was time we stopped treating Seth like our kid brother. I didn’t want him to develop some sort of complex about it.
My band had more than enough emotional baggage between us already.
I exhaled deeply. My palms were stinging; I’d dug my nails into the flesh again. I forced my clenched fists to relax.
“He was probably from one of those trash magazines,” Nathan said. “Just forget about him.”
“What if he prints some of that garbage?” Gael asked.
“He can print whatever he likes,” Nathan replied. “Our fans won’t care and they’re the only ones who matter.”
“Easy for you to say,” Gael said. “He didn’t call you out on anything.”
