He darts in front of me, blocking my path. “Not until you explain what the fuck is wrong.”

I look up at him, searching for words, for an explanation without exposing every bloody wound. “The world is full of liars and the oblivious,” I tell him.

“Okay, cool.” Then he shrugs and asks, “What the hell does that have to do with why you’re upset?”

One side of my mouth lifts, the smile broken. “I always thought I was a liar.” I force a breath through the threat of tears—I don’t even know the reason behind them. But that’s the problem.

I hand over Foster’s phone. “Tell Foster we’re doing his solo interview. Tonight. Center stage.”

37

FOSTER

While Christian does his manager thing, pacing and talking about merch sales, Dev has his tongue shoved in his cheek, twisting the ring on his finger.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice between us.

His eyes dart to me, an exhaustion in them that wasn’t there earlier. “He’s stalling. We aren’t going to be happy when he finally gets to the point.”

From his other side, Felix hangs his head back to see me, joining the conversation. “Our guy was lurking around on his phone earlier. Anytime either of us came close, he’d do a floor routine to avoid us being in earshot.”

“Goddamn it,” I say at full volume, causing Christian to stop and look at us. “What the fuck did the label want?”

Christian sucks at his teeth, taking a power pose with his hands on his hips. He sighs. “They want you in the studio a week earlier.”

Felix’s head drops back again, only this time he stares at the ceiling, his jaw working overtime. Dev swings his gaze to me again. We soul-read with the music, but in moments like this, it pops through too.

A week earlier. We only had nine days between our last show and our first session. Originally, we were supposed to have a month. Mac pushed for sooner before we left on tour. They wanted it bad enough to kick in perks, but fuck.

I shake my head, and Dev backs it up.

“No.” He steals a glance at Felix, and I do too.

Our drummer’s not the only one wearing thin at the seams. Dev’s showing signs, but Felix’s crash-outs stand to cause more damage.

He brings his head up and throws a grateful look our way, but we’ve got him. We watch out for each other. Because at the end of all this—the fame and money—we’ll still be family.

My Cali-boy roommate included.

Christian scans us, his arms drop, and he nods. “Then it’s a no. All of you on board or none.”