“Enough of this shit,” Dean told him, getting up. He pointed at Mike, who had stopped trying to fight Steven and was lying limp on the stage, his lip bleeding and hiseye already turning purple. “Are you done?” Dean asked him.
Mike got up, then shoved Steven. “Let go of me.”
“I shouldn’t have had to do that,” Steven muttered. He glared back and forth between Mike and Zane. “You two assholes better get your shit together before you fuck everything up for the rest of us.” He glanced at Claudia and shook his head. “Over a girl? Fuckin’ hell.”
He stormed off the stage, while Zane and Mike stood, both panting and glaring at each other. It was anyone’s guess if they were about to go another round. Especially theirs.
“Jesus Christ,” Claudia said, turning and walking off the stage.
Dean touched his cheek. “Fucking idiots,” he hissed. “Get backstage.”
It was a relief to be in the green room and out of the late day sun. Zane stretched out his fingers, the pain in his knuckles adding to his remorse. He was too old to act like a schoolboy, and there was far too much at stake.
Dean stared at Zane’s hand while he stretched it out. “Can you play?”
“Of course.”
He looked over at Mike. “What about you?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Not that I want to get back on stage with that dickhead again.”
“You don’t have a choice, do you? Because in about two hours, over a hundred thousand people are gonna be out there waiting for you, most of whom spent money they don’t have to see you live,” Dean said. He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head at them, and when he spoke, his tone waslow. “We’re a family. Sometimes families fight. That’s normal. What we don’t do is get violent or steal each other’s women.”
“I didn’t,” Zane said.
“But you want to,” Mike snapped.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mike! Who cares what Zane wants?” Claudia shouted, surprising them all. “I don’t want him. Okay? So screw him. He can want me all he wants—which he doesn’t—but even if he did, I’m not interested.”
Mike flared his nostrils. “If he doesn’t want you, why’d he write that fucking song?”
“He didn’t write it,” she snapped, quickly following that with, “Not for me. It’s just a story. It means nothing, but if it’s so goddamn upsetting to you, we won’t sing it again. We’ll give it up and bury it.”
Zane scoffed. “Like hell we will. Have you heard how the crowds react to it? They know every word already. We’re not giving up what will likely be the biggest hit of our lives because Mike’s got his nose out of joint.” Glowering at him, he said, “Grow the fuck up, man. We’re too old for this shit. I’m in love with my wife.”
“I agree with Zane,” Steven said. “It’s a huge hit. We gotta play it. Just… maybe not today.”
Mike glared at him, but Steven, who had a good six inches on him, towered over Mike. “Get over it. We all do what’s best for the band or none of this works.”
Rusty nodded. “Steven’s right. It’s what’s best for the band.” He glanced at Claudia. “If that means we replace Claud, so be it. But we keep the song.”
Tears filled Claudia’s eyes, and Zane could see her physically shrink. He resisted the urge to pull her in for a hug. Instead, he said, “Claud’s not the problem. She never hasbeen. It’s a song. And that stupid article was only meant to sell magazines. It doesn’t make it real. Just because some dumbass reporter spent a few days with us and decided thathe’dbe insecure if he were you. Who gives a shit what his hypothetical feelings would be?”
Mike lifted the back of his hand to his chin to dab up the blood.
Zane stared at his best friend, softening his voice, guilt coming over him for the damage he had done to Mike’s face. Zane was supposed to protect him. Not hurt him. And until that day, that’s what he had done. “There’s nothing between us. I swear on my mom’s life. We keep the song. We keep Claudia and we keep our tempers in check from now on. You’ve been my best friend since I was fourteen years old. You think I’d ruin that over a piece of ass?”
He knew it was a cruel thing to say, but he was fighting for everything that mattered to him. If the band split up over this, he’d not only lose the brotherhood he relied on, but there was no way Sienna would believe the rumors weren’t true. He’d lose his wife, too.
MIKE
Mike leaned against the wall. The muscles in his body were so tight, they felt as if they might snap. The vision in his left eye was blurry and blocked on the edges by swelling. He glared at Zane, but his friend no longer looked angry. He looked pale and shocked as he gazed at Mike’s lip.
It was just the two of them now. Best friends who shared a long history of ups and downs, who’d fought to make itwork despite a wicked power imbalance that threatened their relationship at every turn. They didn’t have to talk about it to know it was there.
Maybe it was time to let go of the dream. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t working. Perhaps today was the day to let it die. He could free himself from the tangled mess and ugliness that their friendship had become. Walk out that door and never come back. Mike could see himself stepping onto the sidewalk outside the stadium and hailing a cab. It would be so easy. Where would he go? A bar. The seedier the better. Then… anywhere he pleased.
They stared at each other for a long time, the heat of rage evaporating into the air, leaving only the question of where they would go from here. After thirty long, amazing, awful, tumultuous years together, they could let it slip away with the throw of a punch. Mike tasted the blood from the cut on the right side of his lip, and a flood of memories clouded his mind. He was that scrawny kid again. Powerless. Hurt. And very much alone.
