Her starlight didn’t burn out because of the music or the pink and glitter outfits. She was just collateral damage in Paul Monroe’s endless war over clicks and views.

  But she’s still Harmony.

  She’s still my muse.

  And my muse can still sing.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, getting their attention around the table. “There’s something I need to run by you.”

  59

  HARMONY

  Ipeer through the window of my suite, high on the fourteenth floor. The morning sun illuminates Seattle, light poking around concrete buildings and shining down on the Botsford Plaza parking lot below.

  On one side of the lot, I see the Criminal Records bus parked in its spot. Mac walks around it, performing a quick inspection. There’s a show tonight. Need to make sure the band makes it to the concert hall safe and sound.

  On the other side, Big Pink rolls out of the gate. It turns onto the street, heading south. Heading back to San Francisco.

  Well, it was fun while it lasted.

  Being a pop princess. Signing autographs and taking selfies. Standing in the spotlight while people sang along to my music.

  But it was never really mine, was it?

  I may find comfort in that someday.

  But today, I just feel numb.

  I turn away from the window, eyes falling on my suitcases. All packed up and ready to go. Not sure where. I’ll surely figure that out quickly, though.

  Someone taps on my door. I sigh. It wouldn’t be Chrissy. She’s gone, too, called back to San Francisco. So it’s probably…

  Another sigh and I cross the room to answer it.

  Might as well get this over with.

  I open the door. Jeans and a T-shirt. His leather jacket. Other than his right eye looking red and swollen, it’s standard everyday Knox.

  “Hi,” I say.

  Knox looks me over, blinking once. I suppose it’s been a minute since he’s seen me in a black hoodie and tights. Not exactly Harmony’s brand, but who gives a shit about that now? I sure don’t.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I take a breath. “Well, go ahead,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Tell me you told me so.”

  “I wasn’t⁠—”

  “Tell me how happy you are that I failed,” I say. “That the pop princess you hate so much is dead.”

  He says nothing.

  “I can’t perform that song anymore,” I say. “It’s the intellectual property of Midnite Music and since I’m no longer associated with them⁠—”

  “Harmony.”

  “Let’s see. What else did you hate about me? Oh, yeah! The bus. Big Pink. That’s gone, too. Paul wasted no time in ordering it back to San Francisco, so I’m officially stranded here — but not for too long. I have to check out by ten. Which is in about five minutes, so…” I pause, nodding once. “Say what you need to say so I can go.”

  For a moment, Knox does nothing. He just looks me over again, his eyes soft and focused. I almost expect him to roll his eyes and leave, and I wouldn’t blame him for it for even a second.

  Instead, he steps forward. Knox reaches out, slowly bringing a red-knuckled hand to my cheek. My lower lip trembles and I look down, not wanting to look him in the eye for too long, not wanting to dwell on the fact that of all the things I’ve lost over the last twelve hours, he’s surely on that list as well.

  Knox kisses my forehead. He wraps his arms around me, pulls me in close, and holds me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Choosing you,” he says. “Always.”

  I look up. He kisses me, and I let him. I let myself feel something else for a moment before tears spring to my eyes and I tell myself I don’t deserve Knox or his love.

  An unworthy muse, for sure.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “No,” he says, holding me close. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I shouldn’t have said those things to Chrissy. Or to Prissy or whoever.”

  “You thought you were ranting to a trusted friend,” he says. “Who hasn’t found themselves in an embarrassing hot mic situation before?”

  I exhale hard into his chest. “This was a little more than that, I think.”

  He moves his hand along my back. “It’ll be okay.”

  “You were right,” I say, my eyes stinging with tears. “This was never me. I guess… I really did want to win a crown. Just once. You know?”

  He kisses my forehead again. “I know.”

  I look up at him, my focus instantly going to the deep purple and red splotches around his right eye. “And I heard you had quite the night yourself,” I joke.

  “You should see the other douche.”

  I reach out, letting my fingers hover an inch over him. “Is it bad?”

  “Looks worse than it feels.”

  “And I assume since I didn’t read anything about your tour being canceled, you’re still in Paul’s good graces?”

  “Hard to say, actually. For now, he seems content to sit back and let us do our thing.”

  “And that thing is what, exactly?”

  “Hard to say.”

  I chuckle. “Right.”

  Knox’s hands come to rest on my cheeks again. He looks at me and sighs, his fingers gently caressing me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have chosen you.”

  “You did.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I’m supposed to choose you — not who I want you to be. I’m sorry.”

  I turn to kiss his palm. “You made me realize what’s important. I don’t need a crown. Not one that stands for all the things I’m not.” A tear falls over his fingers. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Knox kisses me, his lips a strong comfort. “Don’t worry about it now,” he says.

  “I kind of have to,” I say. “No late check outs at the Botsford Plaza.”

  “Put your shit in my room. Figure the rest out later.”

  “I can’t go home,” I say, my lip trembling. “I talked to my mother. She said she was disappointed in me.”

  “What else is new?”

  “When I asked her what she wanted me to do, she didn’t answer me. Just said what she’s always said. ‘Everything is happening as it was always meant to happen.’” I scoff. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  “Let her go. She’s decided what kind of mother she wants to be. Not much you can do to change that.”

  “Maybe.”

  Knox wipes my cheeks with his thumbs and smiles. “Come to the show tonight,” he says.

  “I don’t know if I should. Having me around can’t be good for your brand,” I add with rolling eyes.

  “My brand is fuck you, I do what I want. Come to the show.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want you there.” He leans in close, our noses touching. “I want to play for my muse.”

  I smile, unable to stop the flurry of warmth tickling my chest with his words. “What about the others?” I ask. “Do they even want me around?”

  “They do, actually.”

  “Do they?” I ask, doubtful.

  “We talked about you plenty last night.”

  I tilt away nervously.

  Knox laughs as he locks his hands together behind my back. “They’re happy to have you,” he says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Will you come to the show tonight?”

  I take a breath, holding it in. “Yes,” I answer. “I’ll come to the show.”

  “Thank you,” he says.

  I smile. “So, what’s this I read about a Battle of the Bands?”

  Knox chuckles, then kisses me again.

  60

  HARMONY

  There’s nothing quite like a Criminal Records show.

  I watch Harvey perform his opening set from the wings. Thousands of voices sing along, his popularity spiking since the start of the tour. Luckily, his reputation appears mostly unscathed by my embarrassing hot mic moment.

  Good. The last thing I want to do is drag people down with me, especially not someone as wonderful as Harvey Moon.

  An arm curls around my waist. I turn, smiling at Knox as he rests his chin on my shoulder. Silently, we watch Harvey play, his fingers tapping the beat against my hip.

  Once the song is over, Knox kisses my cheek and gestures backstage. “Come on,” he says. “It’s shot time.”

  I shake my head, but I let him take my hand. “You already did shot time,” I say.

  “This is a special shot time,” he says.

  “But I’m not performing.”

  “So?”

  “So… that’s the tradition, right?”

  “It is,” Knox merely says as he happily tugs me along with him.

  I don’t pry further. Truthfully, I’m happy to be included one last time.

  He takes me into the dressing room where the others are waiting with shot glasses and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. They greet me with smiles, the air around them buzzing with pre-show excitement.

  “We ready?” Knox asks as he picks up a shot and offers me one, too.

  Everyone raises their shots.

  “Three!” Katrina says.

  “Two!” Addison says.

  “One!” Jonah says.

  “It’s shot time!” we all say together.

  We drink. I swallow it down, embracing the burn in my throat and eyes, happy to feel something else, if only for a few seconds.

  “Sixty seconds!” Jordan says from the doorway.

  “Jordan,” Knox says, calling her in. “You, too.”

  Jordan sighs as she shuffles over and takes the final glass off the table. She throws it back, swallowing it all without hesitation before setting it down and nodding. “Forty-five seconds!” she says.

  The band laughs and completes their pre-show rituals. Then, they rush out of the room to take their places. I wish them luck, accepting friendly high-fives from the guys and hugs from the girls as they go.

  Knox hangs back with me.

  “Shouldn’t you go?” I ask.

  “I’ll make it in time,” he says. “I want my good luck kiss first.”

  I oblige with a smile. I don’t have the heart to deny him. “You don’t need luck,” I say.

  “Everybody needs luck.” Knox grins, his forehead gently nestled against mine. “Without it, I never would have met you. Remember?”

  I let the memory wash over me. “I remember,” I whisper.

  “Knox,” we hear Jordan say.

  “Go,” I say, giving him a light shove. “I’ll be watching.”

  Knox kisses me one more time before rushing off to join the others by the stage.

  “You’ve all had enough of me by now,” Harvey says, his voice echoing from beyond. “Put your hands together for Criminal Records!”

  I follow the sound of shrieking applause. In the dark, I listen, my smile growing wider when I hear the first few notes of Katrina’s piano. Then Knox and Addison’s guitars. Bronson’s drums and Jonah’s bass. Harmonizing vocals call out into the night and my heart clenches. No Way Out. One of their most popular anthems.

  Fuck.

  I’m going to miss them.

  I can’t stay, right?

  As tempting as it is to crawl into Knox’s bed and forget all my troubles, it’d only be a temporary solution. I need to figure out who I truly am; who I’ve always meant to become. I’m not sure I can do that here.

  I’ll leave before the end of the show. If I wait, he’ll just convince me not to go and we’ll fall right back into bed together and repeat the same cycle tomorrow morning.

  “Woo-hoo!”

  I startle, spinning around to find Chrissy standing behind me, clapping and grinning in a beautiful little black dress. “Hey!” I say, genuinely happy to see her. “What are you doing here?” I ask as she gives me a quick hug. “You are you… right?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “That’s what Prissy would say.”

  “It’s me!” She leans back with a laugh. “I promise. Though, we should really come up with a codeword or something.”

  “Secret handshake.”

  “That works, too.”

  I smile. “I thought you went back to San Francisco.”

  “I was on the way, yeah. Made it a few hundred miles down the coast before I had Barry stop and drop me off. Rented myself a little compact car, and here I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, Midnite said they’d put me with another artist as soon as possible, but…” She shrugs. “The way they dropped you just didn’t sit well with me. So, I called Paul, and I quit.”

  “You quit?” I ask, touched but horrified.

  “I had another offer already. Obviously,” she adds. “I’m not that stupid.”

  I hug her again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad to be here.” She rubs my back. “And don’t worry! I’m sure you’ll bounce back in no time.”

  I release her with a roll of the eyes. “We’ll see. So, what was your other offer?”

  Chrissy moves to stand beside me. “We’ll talk about it later.” She rests her arm around my shoulder. “Now, let’s rock.”

  I smile, happy to have my friend back. There’s still a lot to think about before the night is over but, for now, I’m content to watch the show.

  No Way Out ends with a wave of screams and applause. Knox looks for me in the wings. His smile lights up as he sees us standing just offstage, and he blows me a kiss.

  I hold it close to my heart and mouth along with him as he says their classic concert greeting.

  “We are Knox, Addison, Jonah, Bronson, and Katrina,” he says, “and these are Criminal Records.”

  A new song begins, and the show goes on.

  After twenty minutes, the lights go dark and Criminal Records exits the stage.

  I stay out of the way, listening to the sounds of stagehands moving fast to push Knox’s piano out onto the stage. They set it next to Katrina’s and the fans cheer, one of the Benton siblings’ legendary piano battles just moments away.

  Knox sits down at the bench. He takes a minute to settle in, twisting his neck and cracking his knuckles as a single tech sets the microphone arm in front of him.

  The silence lingers for a moment. I see the smirk on Knox’s mouth, and I know he’s doing it on purpose.

  Then, he places his hands on the keys and plays three notes.

  The opening notes of Boom Boom.

  The audience reacts. Some laugh. Some hiss and boo and I feel Chrissy’s comforting hand pulse once on my shoulder.

  Knox chuckles into the mic. “Song was catchy, though,” he says, prompting a few patches of laughter to spread throughout the auditorium before he tickles the keys again, this time a few bars from Pure Blue instead.

  “That’s better,” he says amid a happier applause. “Hello, Seattle. How’s the show so far?”

  They holler happily.

  “Good to hear.” He plays softly, slowly. “So, I wanted to take a second tonight to clear a few things up.”

  Oh, no.

  I lean forward an inch.

  “Recently, we’ve… we’ve been lying to you,” he begins.

  “Oh, no,” I say.

  Chrissy says nothing, but her hand squeezes my shoulder again.

  I glance behind me, finding the rest of the band standing behind there. I search their eyes, but none of them seem surprised or worried about what he’s doing.

  “We agreed to take part in a publicity stunt that… well, you all read Gossipa, I bet. If you don’t, just know that I’m sorry. We are sorry. That’s not who I am. That’s not who Criminal Records is. But…” He tickles the keys a little as a wave of supportive applause fills the air. “While I regret lying to you, I don’t regret agreeing to go along with it. Because doing so brought someone very special to me back into my life. And I’m not lying right now when I tell you how much I love her.”

  I keep my breath held in tight as I listen to the reactions scattered throughout the audience. Some swoon. Some shout. Some groan with doubt, which I understand. How do they know he’s not lying this time, too?

  “And I know…” Knox says, “that might sound like bullshit to some of you. So, let me tell you this…” He pauses, letting the silence extend for a few moments. “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think.”

  I laugh as shouts of excitement roll through the audience.

  The Rebel of Rock has returned.

  “If you all could see her the way I’ve seen her, then you’ll fall in love with her, too,” he says. “So, that’s what we’re gonna do now.”

  With that, Knox glances up from the piano and finds me standing in the wings again, his smile wide and devious.

  “Oh, no,” I say again.

  “Everybody,” Knox says, his voice loud and proud, “please welcome to the stage… Ms. Harmony Max.”

  61

  HARMONY

  Istiffen.

  Excuse me.

  What?

  The crowd breaks into applause again. Some excited. Some confused. But it all blends together in my head, hidden somewhere deep behind my spiking pulse.

  “See?” Chrissy whispers in my ear. “I told you you’d bounce back.”

  “I don’t—” I ease backward, but Chrissy gives me a push. “Wait⁠—!”

  Spotlights hit me and I freeze, surprised by the sudden roar of the crowd. I take it in, thousands upon thousands of eyes on me as I just…

  Stand here and do nothing like an idiot.

  Knox walks over and grabs my hand.

  “Knox.” I dig my toes into the stage. “No.”

  “Yes!” he says.

  “No!”

  “Come on.” He tugs me forward. “Play a song.”

  “I have nothing to play!”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don—” I narrow my glare. “Knox…”

  He just smiles.

  I pull away, but he tightens his grip and pulls me toward the piano. “But…” I recoil, wanting to run away. Needing to run away. “Knox, I’m…”