The dressing room. He looks up when I walk in and follows me through the room as I set down my bag. The shot settles on Felix and his sticks, but the angle keeps me and my skirt in frame the entire time.

Heath opens a fourth file.

“How are you remembering all of these? Did you make a list of file names?”

He huffs. “Like I care that much.” His eyes dart to me like I’m not getting it. “It’s a safe bet if he’s wearing the glasses or using a cam, you make an appearance. I’ve also caught him watching you from the other two’s perspectives. All angsty and pining.”

My smile slowly grows, but with Foster it feels like it could stay forever. Always.

“And now you’re doing the dopey thing too.” Heath leans back in his chair, finger pressed to his temple. “It makes sense he’d go after you. When we met last year, one of the first things he did was praise your work.”

The comment takes a second to register, and then it lands hard. “Last year?”

He glances over. “He was at the party you skipped in LA last spring.”

I immediately know the one he means because it’s the only one I missed. “I didn’t skip it. I was sick.”

“Whatever,” he says dismissively. “He mentioned the scene in the Scars&Stars music video where the camera circled the drummer with the rain falling, and the water bounced with every hit of the sticks⁠—”

“My scene?”

“Everything that happens on my set is mine, Sinner.” He hesitates and forces out, “But I was drunk and might have accidentally given you credit.” An annoyed grunt. “And maybe said Remi Sinner is the only name to watch.” Pause. “And you’d take my spot one day.”

“You…” I shake my head a little to clear it and try again. “You told Adams about me nearly ten months ago?”

He nods, reaching for his phone, likely to avoid the other stuff he told me. And we are definitely circling back to it once I get past this part. Foster knew I worked with Heath before the documentary—then I remember the label told Heath when they first floated the idea to the band, they pushed his name as someone they’d want. For his style.

“Can you do whatever you’re doing anywhere other than my desk, Sinner?” He nudges my chair with his foot and sits forward, grabbing his mouse. “I’m not drunk right now, so I don’t particularly like you.”

I stand to roll my chair away. “Careful, or I’ll stop holding back and overtake you tomorrow. What was it you said? I’m the only name to watch?”

His lips perk. “Ha. Fuck off.”

Concerned end-times are upon us, I abruptly stop. “Did you just … chuckle?”