The other is… Chrissy?

  Wait, no… the other one.

  “Ready to go?” the lawyer asks Logan.

  “Aw, man,” I drawl from the floor. “Are you leaving already? We were just gonna break out a deck of cards.”

  Logan stands up as the guard slides the bars open for him. “As much fun as that would have been, I have a show to prepare for.”

  “Okay, bye-bye now.”

  “Of course, my lawyer here will be in contact,” he adds as he walks through the open cage.

  “Why?” I ask.

  Logan stands on the other side, waiting for the guard to close us inside before speaking. “Well, you both did attack me,” he says.

  “Oh, bullshit!” I push off the floor. Jonah follows. “You started it. You know you did.”

  “There’s a bar full of witnesses who would happily testify that you hit me first and that I was merely defending myself… if it came to that.”

  I glare at Logan’s teasing smirk through the bars, the intent between the lines more than obvious. “Okay. What do you want?” I ask.

  “I want to settle this the old-fashioned way, as you said,” he says. “Your band versus mine. I’ll even give you home court advantage. We’ll do it in Las Vegas. At the Sin and Sand? I’m sure you can arrange that, no problem.”

  “Arrange what?” Jonah asks, confused.

  But I understand.

  I understand Logan Shock completely.

  57

  KNOX

  “He wants a Battle of the Bands,” I say, staring through the bars.

  Logan smiles. “Just your band, my band, and a few speakers. We’ll meet up, play a few songs — new material only — and we’ll let the music fans decide who’s best. Not some algorithm. Not clicks or views.” He leans an inch closer. “Them.”

  My chest flutters with excitement. “Just say when, Shock,” I say.

  “Knox,” Jonah says nervously behind me.

  “Well, I’m on tour at the moment,” Logan says.

  “So are we.”

  “We’ll be done by late September.”

  “Early October.”

  “After that, then?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Uh, Knox,” Jonah says. “The wedding.”

  “Oh, right,” I say. “After the wedding, then. We’ll battle in tuxes.”

  “Knox.”

  I glance at Jonah over my shoulder. “What?”

  “The honeymoon,” he says.

  “You can skip that.”

  “Not if I want to stay married afterward.”

  “Okay, fine.” I turn back to Logan. “After our tours and after Jonah’s honeymoon.”

  “Halloween,” Jonah suggests. “I’ll be back by then.”

  “Perfect!” Logan claps his hands together and steps back. “Halloween night at the Sin and Sand. That’s plenty of time for our muses to come up with something new and exciting.” He sticks his hand through the bars and waits. “We’ll settle this then.”

  I shake his hand firmly, hoping it hurts a little. “We’ll settle this then,” I repeat.

  “In the meantime…” His smirk returns as he takes his hand back. “I’ll see you boys on the road.”

  “Hope not.”

  Logan chuckles as he walks away, his lawyer following close behind him.

  Priscilla hangs back. “Hey, Knox,” she says, offering a seductive wink.

  “Your sister is prettier,” I say.

  She sneers, then stomps off behind them.

  I grin.

  Another guard passes them as he walks inside, his gait accompanied by a pair of stiletto heels stalking with purpose along the concrete floor.

  “Ah, shit,” Jonah mutters beside me.

  I look through the bars into Stella Walsh’s stern face.

  Oh, she’s not happy.

  She’s not happy at all.

  “A bar fight?” she says, her voice echoing throughout the block. “In a Botsford Plaza?”

  “Hi, Stella,” Jonah and I say.

  “Your father is furious,” she says, her sharp eyes focused on Jonah. “Your mother is beside herself. Marla couldn’t even speak. She was so upset.”

  Jonah’s face falls. “You told Marla?”

  “Gossipa told Marla.”

  “Fuck,” he whispers, his shoulders deflating.

  “Yeah. Fuck. Luckily for you morons, Kingston smoothed things over with the hotel, but who knows what charges this Shock character is going to throw at you?”

  “Oh.” I wave a hand. “It’s all good. I took care of that.”

  “Did you now?” she asks.

  “We’re gonna play it out.”

  “You’re gonna play it out?”

  I nod. “Yeah, we’re gonna play it out. No worries.”

  Stella massages the vein popping out of her forehead. “Whatever. Let’s just get you out of here. I will deal with it later.”

  The guard unlocks the cage and slides it open.

  “Thank you, Stella,” we say as we pass her.

  “Just go.”

  I wave at the two drunk men still sitting on the bench. “Bye, guys!”

  They wave back, happily wishing us luck at the rock battle.

  Not that we need any luck.

  Criminal Records is going to annihilate those glam rock bastards.

  That is… if Criminal Records still exists at all after this. I think Jonah has forgiven me maybe, but I’m not so sure about the others.

  As we retrieve our personal items from a rather burly looking guard, I form a plan.

  Step one: Find my band. Apologize until they forgive me.

  Step two: Find Harmony. Question mark. But find her anyway.

  Step three: Destroy Logan Shock and The Electrics.

  As I’m scrolling through the dozens of panicked texts and messages I’ve received over this evening, my phone rings in my hand.

  Asshole calling.

  I almost don’t bother.

  “Hello,” I answer.

  “Knox Benton, you are a genius!”

  I raise a brow. “I am?”

  “A Battle of the Bands against The Electrics! It’s brilliant!”

  “Thanks,” I say, strangely impressed with the speed of Logan’s publicist.

  “This is exactly the hype we need to ride out this storm,” Mr. Monroe says. “You had me worried there for a minute tonight, but now I know not to underestimate you. Knox. Criminal Records!” He makes a disturbingly orgasmic noise. “My favorite band!”

  I say nothing.

  “I just checked both of your tour schedules. You have several more shows that align perfectly with The Electrics, so keep doing what you’re doing out there! Butt heads with them whenever possible — the clickers love it! Legally, I have to tell you not to be so violent next time, but — just between you and me — I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to pop him another one!”

  “And Harmony?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  “Harmony,” I repeat. “You know. Your wife’s daughter.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about her. She’s already been taken care of. I want you focused on the Battle of the Bands!” He squeals again. “Brilliant!”

  “What do you mean, she’s been taken care of?”

  “Well… in light of recent events, Midnite Music has severed its relationship with Ms. Max,” he says, the words stiff and rehearsed.

  “What?” My gut twists. “Why?”

  “She was caught in a lie on live television. Not a good look!”

  “Yeah. So was I.”

  “And you went the extra mile to rectify the situation!” he says, still so fucking impressed. “She, however, did not.”

  “It’s been, like… three hours.”

  “Her brand is tainted now, Knox.”

  “Because of you.”

  “We have to consider what’s best for the label. You understand that, right?”

  “No,” I say, clenched in anger. “I don’t understand that.”

  “Knox—”

  “You can’t do this. She has a contract.”

  “She had a temporary agreement, with a promise to sign should she show that she has what it takes to handle this business.”

  I pause. She didn’t mention that.

  “She couldn’t hack it, Knox,” he says. “It’s unfortunate, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to.”

  “Harmony does everything you ask her to do. She changed her look, her sound. She worked her ass off learning those dumb fucking dances for you. But one bad headline and she’s out? You can’t be serious.”

  “Harmony was a tremendously hard worker. A real talent! But the numbers just aren’t on her side anymore. That’s all. It’s not personal,” he says with a sigh. “You know how this business can be.”

  I stop talking. Not much else to say.

  “You’re doing great work out there, Knox,” Mr. Monroe says. “I’m proud of you.”

  Okay. There might be something else I can say.

  “Go fuck yourself, Paul,” I say before hanging up.

  58

  KNOX

  Step one: Find my band.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t too difficult.

  We all sit together at the largest table at the back of the hotel bar. At first, I doubted they’d let us in at all, but the bartender barely glanced up when we walked in and he didn’t so much as bat an eye when I pre-paid for several rounds.

  Apparently, Kingston Botsford can smooth things over like a motherfucker.

  Now, after pouring my heart out, I sit and wait for them to break the silence. I knew this apology was going to take a long time, and I’m willing to sit here for as long as it takes for them to forgive me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again as the silence extends.

  Addison exhales hard, ready to speak first. “You gave me your word,” she says.

  I nod through the guilt. “I know.”

  “That’s not cool.”

  “It’s not. I didn’t mean for it to⁠—”

  “You missed rehearsal tonight,” she says.

  “I did and I’m⁠—”

  “What if we had a show instead? Would you still have missed it?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “All I can say, Addy, is I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Her sharp brow arches.

  “I’ll try to do better,” I add.

  “You will be better.”

  “I will,” I say, throwing every bit of sincerity into it as I can muster. “I promise.”

  Addison sits back in the booth with crossed arms. “All right, then.”

  “All right, then?” Katrina repeats. “This is far from all right.”

  “Kat,” I say. “I’m⁠—”

  “You attacked Logan Shock!”

  Addison chuckles. “That part I was actually okay with.”

  “Violence is never okay!” Katrina says, her eyes on me, so full of shame. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking about Harmony,” I say with a sigh. “About that clip Logan sent to Gossipa.”

  “Are we sure it was him?” Addison asks.

  “I ran into Chrissy upstairs. She said Priscilla impersonated her and took the video, and since we know she works for Logan… I say it makes sense.”

  “Still,” Katrina says, her voice so small. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I know,” I say, the weight of our shared history in the words. “I’m sorry, Kat.”

  She glares at Jonah. “Can’t believe it from you, either.”

  Jonah recoils, her doe-like eyes powerful enough to kneecap any man. “Well, he… was being a dick. You’d have shanked him, too!”

  Katrina exhales hard and says nothing more.

  Bronson clears his throat.

  I look at him, his broad shoulders halfway hanging off the edge of the booth. “Bronson?” I ask.

  He angrily shifts his jaw to one side, his head shaking slightly as he looks at me and Jonah. “Without me?” he asks.

  I almost smile. “It wasn’t planned.”

  Bronson looks away.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say, leaning forward. “Now, you know I’d never throw down without you unless I had no choice.”

  “Agreed,” Jonah adds beside me. “And the whole time we were in jail, I was thinking, ‘Damn, I wish Bronson was here!’”

  “So was I!” I say. “Bronson, the next time we kick Logan’s ass, you’ll be there. I promise.”

  “No, no, no,” Jordan says. “No next time. There will be no next time!”

  But Bronson cracks a smile. “Okay,” he says as he reaches for his drink.

  “And Jordan,” I say, bowing my head at her respectfully. “The last thing I want to do is give you more work to do, but that’s also the one thing I consistently do. I’m really sorry.”

  Jordan’s stern eyes shift between me and Jonah, but she eventually softens. “We have these rules for a reason,” she says, echoing our previous conversation together before it all predictably went to shit.

  “We do,” I say. “I didn’t show them — or you — the respect they deserve,” I say, carefully avoiding throwing her under the bus. “From now on, I’ll do better.”

  Jordan glances around the table, subtly gauging the rest of them. I take a moment to do the same. The tension between us is noticeably lighter from when we first sat down. But there’s still a lot to discuss.

  I signal the bartender for another round.

  “Well…” Jordan says, “at least this Battle of the Bands sounds kinda cool.”

  The others perk up.

  “Yeah,” Addison says, a twinkle in her eyes. “How is that going to work, exactly?”

  “Criminal Records versus The Electrics,” I say with a shrug. “Their songs against ours.”

  “New material only?” Katrina asks.

  Jonah nods. “We have until Halloween to come up with new stuff,” he says, looking worried about that. Considering his upcoming nuptials, I don’t really blame him.

  “We can do it,” I say confidently. “I mean, we wrote Down Down Baby in twenty minutes.”

  “Down Down Baby has one chord progression,” he argues.

  “And two Grammys. Jonah, we got this. Aren’t you working on something for Marla right now?”

  “Yeah. A wedding gift.”

  “You said it was one of the best you’ve written, right?”

  “I did.”

  “And is it?”

  Jonah pauses, then nods. “Yeah, it is.”

  “So, let’s use it. I’ve got something in the works, too. That’s what I call a head start.”

  Addison’s eyes narrow at me. “You have something?”

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “A Harmony song?”

  My chest flutters. “Yes,” I say, telling the truth.

  “Good,” she says.

  “Good?” I repeat, surprised.

  Addison nods. “Despite all the bullshit, you write real good on her. Always did.”

  No one disagrees.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “So… it’s settled,” Jordan says slowly. “We’re doing the Battle of the Bands?”

  One-by-one, we all nod.

  Jordan takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says, jotting down a note on her clipboard. “I’ll call Pam tomorrow morning. I’m sure she’ll make the Sin and Sand available — especially for something like this.”

  I raise my glass and look around the table. “Criminal Records?” I say.

  They all pick up their glasses. “Criminal Records,” they all say.

  We drink to us. To who we are. To who we used to be and who we’ll soon become.

  And we’ll do it together. Always have.

  Addison cracks a grin. “Speaking of Marla,” she says to Jonah. “What did she have to say about tonight’s extra-curricular activities?”

  Jonah groans. “Not a lot, actually.”

  “Is she really mad?” Katrina asks.

  “Not mad. Just… disappointed.”

  Everyone groans.

  “I think I smoothed it over,” Jonah says slowly. Of that, I have no doubt. Like father, like son. “The wedding is still on, so that’s good!”

  “That’s great,” I say.

  Katrina leans toward me. “Have you talked to Harmony at all?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “She’s not answering her phone,” I say. “Or her door. Chrissy said she’s not responding to her, either.”

  “You want me to try?” my sister offers.

  “No,” I say. “Thanks, but… she clearly wants to be left alone.”

  I’m going to end up alone, so I might as well embrace it now.

  I take a drink, hoping to wash away the memory.

  “Tough break,” Addison says.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “And Paul Monroe really can go fuck himself,” she adds.

  We all drink to that, too.

  Except Katrina.

  “That won’t get us in more trouble?” she asks, her doe-eyes all big again.

  I brush it off. “We’re bulletproof, I think. For now. At least, until the Battle of the Bands.”

  Katrina takes a breath, then joins the others in the toast.

  Jordan dabs the moisture on her chin, her glass now empty. “You think you and Harmony will work it out?” she asks me.

  Everyone waits for my answer.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ll give her the night. See if she’ll talk to me in the morning.”

  I stare into my pint glass, my mind wandering as the conversation turns to other things. It wanders to Harmony. To my bruised eye. To Logan Shock and The Electrics and right back to Harmony again.

  “But whatever,” she said in the video. “In the end, I don’t need him or this stupid fake relationship. My tide is rising and there’s nothing Mr. Artist can do about it.”

  She was right, too.

  Harmonymania was coming. She was going to be a huge star, with or without me.

  Now she won’t.

  I should be thrilled about that, but… I’m not.