For Knox and Bax, it’d been about the touring. About the fans cheering. About the result. Then the fatigue after would make them want to quit all over again.
Linx was the heart, Bax was the brains, Knox was the asshole.
They’d had that figured out long ago.
“This day continues to be a wonder of infinitesimal shit.” Knox unfolded his legs and set his beer aside. He reached for his flip-flops as though he was ready to roll out.
“What are you doin’?” Hans asked, clearly not ready to roll.
Knox didn’t miss a beat. “I’m gonna go get our boy so we can keep making music. What areyoudoing?”
“Hold up.” Hans held up his hands. “You two don’t get it. Sit your ass down.”
To his credit, Knox sat his ass down. Likely because Hans was as serious as the sauce on a bowl of Buffalo Wild Wings, and when he got serious, they listened.
“Then explain it,” Bax said. He had to fight not to grit his teeth. Not because Linx was ready to move on with his career and his life—Bax got that, he did. No, Bax gritted his teeth because he’d spent so much time not knowing what he wanted until it was ready to walk away.
“The new guys have great sound.” The way Hans said “great” should not have made Bax green-eyed jealous. And yet…
“That good, huh?” Bax asked, curious now as to Hans’s angle.
His stomach cramped, not because of the oysters he’d eaten last night, or the thought of chocolate-covered gummy bears, but because his safety net was walking away. He’d always had the band as a backup. Things didn’t work out? Need to buy a new pad? Call up the band and run a tour because Dimefront was bigger than any of them individually.
“Better than good.” Hans steepled his fingers. “I think they could be something big.”
“What does that mean for Dimefront?” Bax asked, already knowing the answer.
He and Knox could make a band together. Could find a new bass player. But without Linx, Dimefront would not be Dimefront.
Bax might have been the lead, he understood his importance, but Linx was the reason things worked. The reason they pulled together and made the music that provided the soundtrack of a generation.
A person couldn’t walk through any mall in America and not catch a few bars of one of Dimefront’s hits.
“We either go get Linx in Denver, convince him you’re in—and you better fuckin’ be in if that’s the route you want to go. Or we cut loose. I go make a new band with Linx and these guys, and we live happily ever after,” Hans said.
“Happily ever after is overrated.” Bax knew this firsthand.
“I get it.” Knox was standing now, hands on his hips. “I’ll probably still complain. I’m still me. But I won’t threaten to leave. I’m in.”
I’m in… Courtney’s words floated through Bax’s mind.
“You can’t just be in,” Hans said. “You spend all your time telling us how bad you want to be out.”
Knox leaned forward. “That’s when I thought I had a choice. No choice? I’m in.”
Funny, but Bax could relate to that logic. That he related to Knox’s logic was concerning on many levels.
“You?” Hans pointed to Bax.
Bax paused for a solid three seconds. “Not letting my band go without some CPR.”
“Then let’s go get Linx.” Hans stood, brushed some nonexistent sand from his slacks, and strode toward the resort hotel.
Fuck it, they would go get Linx.
He might have made a mess out of everything else, but he’d still have Dimefront.
Chapter Five
