The back door opens then, and the owner of the bar, Terry, comes out, a wide grin on his face.
“Ah, there you fuckers are,” he says, bounding down the steps. “Not that I had to search. This is the usual spot my bands hang out. Hey, you guys had someone really important wanting to chat.”
“Police?” Mads asks.
Terry brushes him off. “No. Although, someone did call and wanted to let you know Rad’s stable at the hospital. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you about.”
“What’s up, Terry? You’re keeping us in suspense here,” Zeb says.
He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to Mads with a smirk on his lips.
“He was here. And he fucking loved you,” Terry says.
“Holy shit,” Reed exclaims, leaning over Mads’ shoulder. “Holy shit!”
“Fuckkkkkk—” Zeb’s eyes widen upon reading the name on the card, and he pulls back just enough to high-five Reed with both hands. “Holy fucking—Are you kidding me?” he asks, rattling Mads.
Mads’ lashes lift toward the bar owner. “Are you fucking with us?”
Terry grins. “Hell no. I don’t joke about Death Tower Records or Avie Levin,” he says. “He had to cut out early, but wanted me to give you his card.”
The three guys scream, jump up and down, and begin shoving one another. I laugh at them over to the side, my heart pounding, emotions burning in my eyes because I can’t fucking believe I’m here for this.
Zeb comes over to me, still yelling, and picks me up into his own bear hug. “Ah, this is your fucking victory, too,” he says when he sits me down. “All you!”
I chuckle. “Nah, you guys fucking earned that. I just filled in.”
Reed scoffs as the three look between each other, card hitting his palm. “Dude, you’re in this,” he says, beaming. “This deal will have your name on it, too. If you want.”
Oh shit, they were for real.
My stomach bottoms out. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, you’re kind of stuck with us,” Zeb says. “We might go as far as begging if you try to leave.”
“Having you on that stage was like the final piece clicked,” Reed says. “The energy was everything.”
“Listen, I’m about to ask you the most pivotal question you’ll ever be asked,” Mads says, seriousness lacing his tone. I straighten and clear my throat, peering between Reed and Zeb for some kind of reassurance.
“Fucking terrifying coming from you, but okay,” I say.
His pale green eyes squint like he’s smiling beneath that mask. “You think you can handle becoming a rockstar?”
Relief sweeps over me, and I laugh again. “Motherfucker, I wasbornto be a rockstar.”
“Yeah, you were!” Reed lunges my way and picks me up off the ground, the sound of my new nickname chanting from their lips. It’s all I can do to hang onto his shoulders as we all jump and laugh and scream together.
And for the first time in two years, I allow myself to wholly feel the moment, the absolute elation pouring over my body and coating me in laughter and purpose. I want to remember this.
Because this is the only joyful core memory I have. I’mdesperateto keep it.
And I can’t wait to get home so I can call my mom.
CHAPTER NINE
GEMMA
The Masked Mayhemparty was a bad idea—one of mybetterbad ideas—still, it’s continued to haunt me in the days since—in the very best way.
