My lips parted in astonishment. This was little Oliver Twist asking for more in his bowl and then getting transported into an all-you-can-eat buffet. The Usual Suspects official channelswithprofessional people helping behind the scenes? If we had that, we could reach so many more people than by just using Jake’s own account. The number of visitors would skyrocket in no time. So many cats would get adopted out. We’d make it through summer. I wouldn’t fail.
A bark ofI’m-so-happy-I’m-nearly-hystericallaughter escaped my mouth, making Jake tilt his head ever so slightly and eye me in alarm.
“You really had me going there. This isn’t a problem, it’s the exact opposite of a problem!” I enthused. “This isamazing. It could be the answer to—” I came to a dead stop, studying Jake. “Why aren’t you smiling?” I shook his arm in excitement. “This is good news.”
Jake shifted uncomfortably and apprehension crept in. Jake rarely twitched. His posture tended to be cool and solid. Unbothered, but precise. It had been that way since he was a kid—and whenever I saw him in a video, sitting on some talkshow host’s couch like how he used to sit on mine at home, that was the one thing about him that hadn’t changed.
“Wait,” I said, “thisisgood news, right?”
“The thing is,” Jake began, “the band and I are— Well, I haven’t actually spoken to them lately.”
Ghosting your friends and having communication issues? Big surprise, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I simply questioned, “You haven’t?”
“No. Not since a month ago when we were all sort of...”
“Since you guys were all sort of what?”
Jake mumbled something, the slight Texas twang slipping into his voice again. Between the accent and the quiet way he rushed his words out in a blur, I couldn’t understand a thing.
“Slow down,” I said, trying to focus on his half-mumbled, half-whispered words as he repeated himself. “You haven’t spoken to them since you all got the...” I wrinkled my brow, trying to decipher his sentence. “Urge for stolen cups?” I doubted he was talking about their penchant for pilfered mugs. “Come on, Jake, say it louder.”
Jake took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling—or maybe to heaven for strength—and then slowly said, “I haven’t spoken to them since we had a band meeting that got so out of control, we were all on the verge of breakin’ up.”
“You guys arewhat?” I gasped, my voice rising several octaves higher and louder.
“Shhh,” Jake hushed, palms rushing to cover my mouth as he nervously glanced back at the door.
I counted to three to digest the news, then wrapped my fingers around Jake’s wrists and cautiously lowered his hands away from my lips. “The Usual Suspects are breaking up?”
“No, no, no.” Jake winced. “I don’t think so? I mean, wethoughtabout it for a good minute. We had this huge, stupid fight, so we all agreed that we needed a break from each other.”
“Your vacation before tour,” I said, Jake’s words from earlier flashing through my mind.
“Exactly. So I don’t know who out of the guys is going to want to talk to me right now,” he admitted. “I mean, Leon’s never really mad at anyone for long, but I haven’t spoken to Aspen or Phillip in a month. I’m pretty sure those two haven’t spoken to each other either.”
I crossed my arms. “I thought you boys were friends.”
“Yeah, of course we are,” Jake argued, looking affronted that I suggested they weren’t. “Good friends. Best friends!”
Headlines ran through my mind like I was scrolling though a timeline.Besties Got the Beat: Boy Band Members Are Buddies for Life! These Teens Are Bros 4Ever! US Is All Love!
“Then why aren’t you talking? Didn’t you guys just have an interview inMic’d Upwhere you called each other family?” I asked.
“Exactly. Besides being best friends, we’re family. And families fight.” Jake noticed my skeptical expression. “Like you don’t have at least one cousin who you’d be ready to throw hands with.”
“Manny,” I answered automatically.
I called him Manny the Mansplainer. The nickname’s self-explanatory.
“But we also love each other,” Jake continued, stressing his point. “The thing you have to understand is, we’re four brothers. Four brothers with wildly different personalities who are stuck together rehearsing for hours at a time. Then we’re put on planes and tour buses together for hours at a time. When we leave thebus or plane, it’s only to get shuffled into hotels, where we’re together for hours at a time. Then we have sound checks and even more rehearsals for hours at a time, before performing for—”
“Hours at a time,” I finished, realization dawning on me. No wonder they’d gotten into a fight—it was bound to happen sooner or later when you’re living like that. I’d start snapping at anyone I got stuck sharing a space with for that long, on top of all the stress of performing. “I get it now.”
“Those tour buses arenotas big as they look from the outside when you’re sharing them with three other guys and a driver,” Jake admitted, making a face of disgust. “So, yeah, we’d kill for each other. It’s just that, sometimes, wealsowant to kill each other. Right now, we’re in that second part.”
“How long does the second part last?”
“It depends. Usually, we’re back talking to each other pretty quick. We can resolve a lot of our bickering in less than ten minutes. We may squabble, but we never actually want to hurt each other. We’re too close for that. But there have also been fights that have stretched through, like, four states and six tour stops.”
