Keeping up with the cold shoulder, the band and associates go straight inside to their dressing room. I need to time it right if I want to try to explain I had nothing to do with the label and Heath. With Xander. Hours ahead of a concert is far from right.

Plus, I still have nothing to explain until I talk to my assistant.

And when I walk into the lounge after showering and getting ready, that time has come, apparently.

Xander shoots up from being sprawled on the couch where he slept on last night. “You can’t avoid me forever, Rem.”

I shrug. “That has yet to be determined.” But then I sigh and gesture to the front of the bus. “Ready to carry stuff inside?”

His lips quirk up, and he nods. “Absolutely, boss.”

I roll my eyes and nudge him out of the way. I climb to the loft and snag my camera bag.

We work as light as possible during concerts, just our bags and anything specific shots might require. Both Glory and Xander will need extra equipment tonight, so we gather his from the other bus’s storage.

I also keep a duffel of backups with me—along with a couple of my favorite lenses. A filter or two. Maybe a recorder for ambient noise. And the projector for a shot I’m dying to get of old band footage playing on a wall or curtain as the guys walk in front to the stage.

All vital shit, really.

Xander snatches the duffel from me, slinging the strap over his shoulder on our way inside. He tosses me a grin. I narrow my eyes in return, and he groans, exasperated as security opens the door for us.

I check the handy venue map on my phone for the band’s dressing room. Christian sent them for every show so I could plan logistics and scenes. They save me more often than I care to admit.

Xander catches my arm as we cross the backstage area. “Can we please talk this out? I hate you being mad at me. And I really hate you acting like I’m a bad guy in your movie.”

“The misdirection would work so well, though. The pretty face, close proximity as my roommate, the friends-to-hookup-to-friends threaded into the storyline. You’re perfect for the villain.”

I flash a wry smile but then take pity on him. I drag him with me, backing out of the way from the stage. We stop beside an empty dolly and spare amps, and I face him, chin tipped to glare at him properly.

“Go ahead. Tell me why you’re accusing people of sexual misconduct. Or, with how Christian was acting, was it assault?”

Xander jerks back and then ducks closer, his voice hushed. “Jesus fuck, Remi. I didn’t do either. You think I’d baselessly cry assault on someone? The thought might have crossed my mind, but I never voiced it.”