If the way that girl showed up, staring in my bedroom window in the middle of the night, wasn’t so messed up, I’d almost feel sorry for her. I mean, yeah, Frankie has showed up at night at my window, too. But there’s a huge difference between Frankie Lynde and this girl. There’s a difference between someone you hope looks your way even once in a while and someone you don’t know who watches you without you realizing it. What that girl told me just made it worse. She’s obviously under some kind of delusion, talking about dark forces, telling me to be careful, thinking she’s the one who can save me.

What does it say about me that I was almost ready to believe her?

I trudge across the lot toward Patrick and Jezz.

“Hey guys,” I begin. Trying to sound normal. “What’s up?”

Patrick folds his meaty arms. “You tell us.”

“What?”

Jezz glances between me and Patrick. “Rumor is another talent scout was here last night,” he says. “And that you went and met with her alone.”

Goddamn it. This is the last thing I need.

I guess I could pretend not to know what they’re talking about. But that would make me even more of a jerk than I already am. Besides, these two know me way too well.

I set the end of Yvonne’s case on the ground. “I . . . Jesus.” I press one thumb against my temple. “I didn’t even know about it until after the show. Flynn set it up. He totally sprung it on me.”

“But you went.”

“Yeah. I went to find out what they were offering and to tell her that I definitely wasn’t going to sign anything without my band.”

“Were they even interested in the band?” Patrick asks. “Or were they just interested in you?”

I look at Patrick’s scarred fists. “We didn’t really talk about that.”

“I bet you didn’t,” says Jezz.

His words sting more than anybody else’s would. First, because this is Jezz, who usually makes the best out of any crappy thing. Second, because it’s so unfair. I did bring up the band. And I don’t want to hurt them. That’s why I can’t tell them the truth.

They wouldn’t understand. They don’t understand.

The guys are quiet. Patrick cracks his knuckles. Jezz combs one hand through his hair and looks away.

At the same time, the crowd inside the Crow’s Nest is getting louder. I can hear the mass of voices pressing against the walls. The place must be packed.

My chest starts to tighten.

Patrick mutters something under his breath, something I can’t catch.

Jezz nudges Patrick’s arm. His tone softens. “Dude.”

“What?” Patrick turns to face him. “I’m serious. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Panic hits the adrenaline in my bloodstream.

“What?” I force the words out. “You’re not going to do the show?”

Patrick finally turns his eyes on me. They’re so hard, I feel like I’ve been punched. “Why don’t you do it solo?” he says. “That’s how you do everything else.”