Sav’s lips perk up, a familiar spark surrounding her. I bet the exact feeling courses through her as the one racing beneath my skin every time I’m about to go on stage.

We exchange goodbyes with Levi before he heads toward the rest of The Hometown Heartless.

“Enjoy the end of your tour.” Sav starts backing away. “Whenever you’re ready to stick it to Mac Records, you have my number.”

“We do,” I mumble as she turns around.

Her silver hair swings behind her as she jogs back to her band, and Felix slaps me in the chest, grabbing the front of my shirt.

“Did that just fucking happen?” he asks.

“No chance.” Dev sighs and hangs his head. “It has to be group hysteria.”

But I smile and knock Felix’s hand away. “Nah, we’re lucid. But you’re right. It didn’t just fucking happen.” I spin and slap a grinning Colt on the shoulder on my way past him. “We made it fucking happen.”

32

REMI

“Sinner.”

I narrow my gaze at the meddling director glaring back at me through my laptop screen. “Heath.”

The stare down continues until I consider the possibility of the call having frozen. But before I break first to check, Heath releases a pent-up sigh and relaxes into his office chair, finger to temple.

“So, you’re still upset.”

Still refers to the three-paragraph text I sent after talking to Xander about what went down with Heath and the label. I told him he was wildly off base, and if he’d bothered talking to me first, he could have saved himself the trouble of caring. He replied with: I’ll call Sunday. Be over it by then.

“Yeah, I am.” I sit back on my bed, pulling the computer onto my lap and leaning against the headboard. “You took into consideration everyone’s input on me, my safety, and my working conditions except for mine.”

He looks like he has plenty to say, so it surprises me when he says, “You’re right.”

I blink at him. “Wh-what? Is this a trap?”

“For fuck’s sake.” He rubs his temple like I’m giving him a headache. “No, it’s called introspection, Sinner. After twenty years in an industry full of abusive man-babies who think breathing is consent, you morally bottom out and act oblivious, or you assume everyone is a duck all the time. I made a call based on experiences with too many terrible fucking people. But you’re right. I should have talked to you before anyone.”

Twice he said I’m right, and twice I’ve feared someone might have a gun to his head. “Um … thank you?”

His gaze darts to the side and appears further annoyed once it returns. “Text me another essay, and I guarantee you’ll never have another director credit in your life.”

“He’s lying,” Jasmine calls from off screen.