He checked his watch. Ten o’clock. He had some time to grab a coffee before he was scheduled to see Piper and Everly at eleven thirty. He was driving the Range Rover. The limo that would take him to LA would pick him up at Karoline’s at two so that he could make his seven-thirty flight.

At least his bandmates and his manager were starting to calm down now that he was going to return. They’d acted like such crybabies about canceling the rest of the tour. Chase McDonald, the president of the record company he was affiliated with, had called him this morning to say he’d better get his ass back to the UK or the band would be dropped from the label. And Axel had been able to tell that Mr. McDonald wasn’t messing around. He’d said gone were the days when celebrities could get away with shit like going AWOL at the last second. But that wasn’t all he’d said. He’d also been pissed about the video he’d seen on BuzzFeed showing Axel exchanging angry words with Tobias at Fatboy Burgers. Someone who’d witnessed the exchange had sold him out even after all he’d done to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

“You’ve caused a PR nightmare,” Mr. McDonald had said. “You were acting like a jealous idiot and that will cost the band when it comes to image.”

Axel wished he could’ve told Mr. McDonald to go to hell. Bands were notorious for acting badly. What was the big deal? But he hadn’t dared go that far, not on the heels of Harper’s defection. As much as he hated to admit it, losing the one person who’d always believed in him most had rattled him.

He’d get over it. She’d be sorry at some point.

He slid his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose and pulled the ball cap he’d donned low as he got out of the SUV and walked into The Daily Grind. He had no doubt there’d be a few people who’d recognize him, but after what’d happened with BuzzFeed he’d offer no autographs. He had the right to buy himself a cup of coffee without being bothered—which was why he was particularly irritated when a couple of guys sitting at a small table not far from where he was waiting kept looking over at him.

“That’s him,” he heard one say.

“You sure?” the other replied.

“Why else would he be wearing sunglasses? It’s not even sunny, you idiot.”

They were both probably ten years older than he was and one, in particular, could use a shower.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right. But he seems a lot smaller in person.”

The guy with the greasy hair started to get up, but the other caught hold of his jacket.