“What’s wrong with that?”

  I exhale hard, unsure how to reply. “I don’t know,” I say. “It just… doesn’t feel right. Right?”

  Jonah looks me over. “Does this have something to do with Harmony?”

  “No,” I say, deflating as I walk to the other side of his bed and drop myself down onto it. I kick off my shoes. They tumble to the floor. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Well…” He shrugs. “The obvious answer to your question is… we grew up. All that stuff was fun when we were just starting out.”

  “Hell yeah it was.”

  “But it got old, just like us.”

  “So that’s it, then?” I sigh. “We’re old?”

  “Older,” he says. “I’m not exactly popping blue pills yet, though. Are you?”

  I chuckle. “Of course not, but…”

  I let the questions fade, not wanting to voice them out loud. What if Paul Monroe was right? What if we’re not number one anymore… because we’re not? We’ve changed. Our music changed.

  And we don’t deserve it anymore.

  “We shouldn’t be worried about this girls’ night out, right?” I ask after a few minutes.

  “Nah,” Jonah says. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  I give him a look.

  “I know,” he says. “I heard it as I said it. But Bronson is with them. I doubt he’d let them do anything too out there.”

  I go quiet, thoughts and feelings swirling in me, offering nothing but more thoughts and feelings and no answers.

  “We’re still Criminal Records, Knox,” Jonah says. “We’re still us. We’re still our music. That’s what matters, right?”

  “Right,” I say, still tied in knots. “That’s what matters.”

  20

  HARMONY

  Karaoke night at Diablo Pink.

  Two full cabs and a trip through Los Angeles traffic later, we arrive at the bar and make our way inside.

  Diablo Pink is — as Knox so eloquently put it — a girl bar with pastel-colored decor and warm ambient lighting. A large chandelier hangs in the center of the space with fairy lights along the walls. A little girly, I guess, but it’s nice, with comfortable sofas and standing tables with centerpieces of small flower vases. Still, there are plenty of men scattered about and enjoying the atmosphere with their girlfriends or besties.

  Music echoes from within. A woman stands on a small stage with a microphone, her eyes on the lyrics as she belts out a popular song from a few years ago, her cheeks pink with drink. A group at a table to the left of the stage cheers her on, clearly her friends. She’s a little off key, but no one here is going to fault her for putting herself out there and having fun. That’s part of the fun of karaoke night, after all.

  “Well, I’m gonna need some courage before going up there,” Chrissy says by my side. “Shots?”

  I blink in surprise.

  “You guys grab a table. I’ll get first round,” Katrina says as she gives my arm a nudge. “Come help me carry?” she adds.

  I follow her to the bar. “Damn,” I say. “Off-the-clock Chrissy really likes to let loose.”

  Katrina laughs. “I still remember the first time I saw Jordan hungover. It’s like seeing a cat walking on two legs.”

  “Right?”

  “But even the boss needs a night off.” She waves down a bartender and orders a round of gladiator shots. Whatever that is. I’m sure it’ll be fun to find out.

  “Listen, Harmony,” Katrina says as we wait. “Since we have a moment alone here, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  I nod, unsurprised. “I have no intention of restarting things with Knox, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say, lowering my voice. Even drunk people have ears.

  “I thought not. But I get the feeling that kiss last night felt as real as it looked.”

  “It didn’t. Really.”

  “I don’t mean for you.”

  I pause. “What makes you say that?”

  Katrina takes a breath, searching for the right words. “My brother is… sensitive. Most people don’t realize that. He puts up a tough front, but he feels his feelings more than anyone I’ve ever met. It makes him impulsive, and not always in a good way.”

  The bartender sets our first round down on the bar — six shot glasses sitting in a wooden paddle with the words “for the good girls” burned into the side.

  “Yeah,” I say, keeping my focus on Katrina. “I remember.”

  “Then you understand why this whole thing makes me nervous,” she says. “I don’t want to see anyone get hurt over illusions that feel a little too real.”

  “I do understand. Knox does, too. That’s why we set very specific boundaries for this. Things got so messed up last time, but it won’t happen again.”

  “No?”

  “I have a real future in this business,” I say. “I’m not going to ruin this chance. You really don’t have to worry, Kat.”

  “I hope not. Because I do like you, Harmony. I always did. And I think this tour has the potential to be great for all of us.”

  “So do I.” I smile. “And I always liked you, too.”

  Katrina nods, her eyes warm. “Good.”

  Addison appears next to Katrina’s shoulder. “Yo,” she says, “if you’re done with the scary little sister speech, can we get to drinking? Night ain’t getting younger.”

  We laugh as Katrina picks up the paddle and says, “All right. Let’s have fun.”

  It doesn’t take long for our courage to kick in.

  Chrissy hops up on stage first. She chooses a country pop song from the late 90s that leaves the entire bar clapping their hands and tapping their shoes. Again, my manager surprises me, her obviously trained voice easily keeping up with the song.

  Addison and Katrina go on together, sharing their set with a duet that nearly brings the whole place down.

  Jordan takes some convincing before finally choosing a Blondie song and rocking it from start to finish.

  Bronson, not much for singing, just drinks and grins.

  Before my turn, another young woman takes the stage. Already, her presence draws every eye in the room. She stands tall in a yellow halter top skater dress with black leather boots that stretch halfway up her thigh. Her hair is dyed an electric blue and tumbles down her shoulders as she takes her place by the microphone.

  One note falls off her lips, and I gasp.

  She’s incredible. Definitely a professional.

  “Yeah,” I say nervously. “I’m gonna need another shot if I’m going to follow this. I’ll get this round.”

  The others barely look away from her as I stand up, taking our paddle of empties with me back to the bar as I go. When I get there, I point to a random shot on their list we haven’t tried yet tonight, and the bartender gets to work.

  “Wonderful, isn’t she?”

  I spin around to find a man suddenly standing behind me. Dressed in black from head-to-toe, he towers over me by several inches, even with me in my boots. Mid-twenties with dark blond hair and high cheekbones. He sports a perfectly trimmed mustache and a puff of hair beneath his lower lip that spreads down along his chin. Sharp features. Soft eyes.

  Devilishly handsome.

  And kinda familiar.

  I look toward the girl on stage. “She is, yes.”

  “Tesla is very talented,” he says. “Can you believe I found her on a street corner in Atlanta?”

  I shake my head, doing my best to obscure my confusion. “That’s unbelievable,” I say. “Tesla. That’s a unique name.”

  He looks at her with admiration and respect. “Tesla is a unique woman.”

  I glance between them, sensing a tension that can only be described as sexual. “You two make a lovely couple.”

  “We’re not together.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed⁠—”

  “Not romantically,” he continues, as if I didn’t speak at all. “She is one of my Shock Girls, however. And my girls are always very, very talented.”

  I’m not sure what look I give him exactly, but he chuckles softly.

  “Forgive me,” he says. “I thought you recognized us. I certainly recognize you, Ms. Harmony.”

  “Okay. You have my attention, sir.” I cross my arms. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Logan,” he says, his smirk sliding toward his lightning blue eyes. “Logan Shock. I’m the man who’s going to destroy your boyfriend’s career.”

  21

  HARMONY

  Through the blur of shots and laughter, my thoughts sharpen.

  Oh. I recognize this guy now.

  “Why would you want to do that?” I ask him.

  “Somebody ought to,” Logan says through his smirk. “Might as well be me. Criminal Records has been on top for long enough. I’m far from the only person with this opinion.”

  I shrug. “Can’t say I share it.”

  “Too bad. The era of The Electrics is coming, and soon.”

  I snort. “I’m sorry. The era of The Electrics?”

  “It’s only a matter of time before the world bows to me.”

  “Dude…” I tilt my head. “You sure you’re not just a narcissist? Because you sound like a narcissist.”

  “I’m sure Knox has whispered similar things in your ears before.”

  I don’t respond.

  “Ms. Harmony,” he continues.

  “Yeah, you don’t need the Ms. part.”

  “I’d hoped you and I could come to an arrangement before things got… ugly.”

  Okay. I’m curious.

  “What kind of arrangement?” I ask.

  “You have a bright future,” he says. “The last thing you should tie your shooting star to is dead weight.”

  “I suppose you have an alternative?”

  “Ditch the has-beens,” he says bluntly. “Join me instead.”

  The room erupts in applause as Tesla finishes her song. I glance over my shoulder for a second, embracing anything that will stall the moment and give me a few seconds to process what the fuck is happening.

  Is this guy for real?

  As I turn forward again, I flinch. Logan has taken a step forward into my space. His face, those lightning blue eyes, are mere inches away from mine. His scent fills my nose, a pleasant, clean aroma. Annoying. You’d think a jackass like this would overdo it on the body spray, but I guess not.

  “What do you say, Ms. Harmony?” he whispers. He licks his lips. He looks at me like I’m the only woman in the room. “Become one of my girls. We’re destined to have… a lot of fun together.”

  Damn. Even his breath is minty fresh.

  But this guy ain’t Knox.

  I take a step back. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m quite happy where I am. And who I’m with.”

  He barely reacts, showing only the slightest twitch in one eye. “Pity,” he says, backing off. “But remember what I said about things getting ugly.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  A hand touches my shoulder. “Hey…” Katrina says, suddenly beside me. “What’s the hold-up on the next round?” she asks with one eye on Logan.

  “Ms. Katrina,” Logan says. “It’s nice to finally meet you properly. I’m⁠—”

  “I know who you are,” she says.

  He doesn’t react to her passiveness. If anything, his eyes brighten even more. “I also know you well. You are… quite talented.”

  “Okay,” I say, picking up our paddle of shots. “We’re going to get back to our table now, so… you and Tesla have a good night, Mr. Shock.”

  “Logan is preferred,” he says, his eyes still locked on Katrina.

  “Okay, then.”

  We walk away from him, moving fast to rejoin the others. As I set down the paddle, the table lets out a happy squeal, but Katrina taps my elbow again.

  “What was that about?” she asks.

  I give Logan another glance over my shoulder. He’s still there, lingering in place with Tesla now at his side. The two of them stand close together, speaking in hushed whispers beneath a string of fairy lights.

  Another woman has joined them, too. She’s wearing a short yellow dress with a black leather jacket and has long, wavy black hair and…

  Chrissy?

  No. Chrissy is still sitting in the chair next to mine.

  That is Priscilla.

  She glances at our table and smirks.

  “I’m not sure,” I answer.

  22

  KNOX

  My phone vibrates.

  I ignore it, the idea of continued sleep far too compelling, but it vibrates again. A seed of curiosity plants in my mind, growing and growing until I finally open my eyes.

  I’m in Jonah’s room. Not an unusual way to start a morning on tour, truthfully. We all catch Zs when and where we can.

  I feel for my phone beneath my pillow. Grabbing it, I roll onto my back, squinting as I curse the high brightness setting I accidentally left on last night.

  There’s a brand new text message. Several, actually. But only one from an unknown number.

  Not the buzz I had in mind, Mr. Benton.

  Paul Monroe gets up early. And reads Gossipa Magazine.

  What a dork.

  I click the link he sent me and read the headline.

  Shock and Aw-hell no!

  Heartbreak Harmony strikes again?

  “What the fuck?” I say.

  Jonah stirs on his side of the bed. “What?” he asks, raising his head.

  “Nothing.” I push off. “Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

  Jonah watches me through the tired slits of his eyes. “You good?”

  “All good!”

  I burst out into the hallway, beelining down to Harmony’s door and… waking up enough to realize that I can’t open it.

  I try the knob anyway. Locked.

  I don’t want to bang on it, though. I’d much rather catch her red-handed if I can.

  It’s one thing for her to be unfaithful. It’s another thing entirely for her to sleep with the enemy.

  The next door down opens. A housekeeping cart pushes out into the hallway, followed by a familiar face from the night before.

  “Hey,” I say.

  The housekeeper looks up, her eyes growing wide. “Uh, hi.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Real good.”

  “I’m Knox.”

  “Yeah.” She chuckles. “I know.”

  “What’s your name?”

  She hesitates. “Bethany.”

  “Hey, Bethany.” I tap on Harmony’s door. “Would you mind doing me a favor and…” I mime a keycard going through the lock, “popping this door open for me?”

  Bethany glances at it, her training kicking in. “I’m not supposed to do that.”

  “Right, totally,” I say. “Completely understand. But you know who I am, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know whose room this is… right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you probably know that she and I are involved in a big way and… I need to get in there.”

  “Why don’t you call her and ask her to let you in?” she suggests.

  “I would, but I want to surprise her,” I say, thinking fast. “You know, sneak in, slip under the covers, shower her with morning kisses. That kind of thing.”

  Bethany blushes. “That’s sweet.”

  “Right? So, let me in?”

  “No,” she says. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It says do not disturb!” she says, pointing to the sign dangling from the knob.

  “She’s not talking about me, though.”

  “I could lose my job.”

  “I won’t tell anybody. I’ve got your back, Bethany.”

  She bites her lip; the telltale sign of crumbling resolve.

  “Please, Bethany?” I say. “I just wanna give my girl a good morning.”

  With a sigh, Bethany looks over her shoulder for witnesses, then reaches into her pocket for her keycard. “You’ll have my back?”

  “I’ve puked in your boss’ boss’ bathroom sink. Trust me. I’ve got connections.”

  She cracks a smile and swipes the card.

  I push the door open an inch. “Thank you kindly, Bethany,” I say. “I’ll leave a signed thank-you card for you in my room when I leave.”

  She blushes again with excitement. “Thank you.”

  I step into Harmony’s room; a man on a mission. As I close the door, the first thing I do is beeline for the bed. It’s empty, but disturbed, the blankets open on one side.

  The second thing I do is listen. Behind me, in the bathroom, the shower runs. Beneath it, there’s a voice. One solitary voice that threatens to drop me down to my knees.

  “You’re wildfire, burning through my soul.

  I’m drawn to you, so out of control.”

  I approach the open doorway slowly, careful not to disturb her.

  “This love’s like a poison, it’s killing me slow,

  But I can’t escape it, don’t want to let go.”

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, I’m standing at the back of a Botsford Plaza ballroom all over again.

  Harmony sits at a piano in a gorgeous brown dress, playing a song she wrote beneath a lonely spotlight.

  She sings. She sings for me.

  This voice. The voice of a fucking angel. Paul Monroe and his band of idiots slapped auto-tune and shit all over it.

  Fucking morons.

  I lean against the wall of the bathroom and listen. I take deep breaths, feeling myself enter a place I haven’t been in so long. A place of warmth and contentment. Of happiness and creativity. This voice, this goddamn voice, awakens the very best pieces of me. Always has.

  “You’re a hurricane, tearing through my defenses,

  Leaving behind only broken senses.

  I crave your embrace, a dangerous thrill.