The sound guys were taking a break, and Dan had left an hour ago. I rested my head on the table, too tired to move. When you played the same song nonstop for that many hours, it became like a word you’d repeated too many times: It didn’t make sense anymore. That’s the point we were at.

Jared continued on as if he hadn’t heard his brother. “And the beat in the pre-chorus is off, too.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hector asked. “I’ve recorded it three times already!”

“Well, do it again. We need to get this right.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it!”

Jared played the section again. “Right there! How can you not hear that?”

“Why don’t you go in there and play it then?”

“Maybe I will!”

“Right, because this is the Jared Cross band, and you can do everything!”

“You want to trade places? You think it’s so easy, getting in front of thousands of people and baring your soul on stage? Or answering the same stupid questions over and over again in interviews? Please, be my guest!”

“Guys, stop,” Kyle said, raising his hands between them. “We need to call it a night.”

“Seriously,” I said. “We’ve been here since 7 AM. I can barely see straight, I’m starving, and my hands are killing me.” Not to mention, this was starting to get ugly. Hector and Jared often bickered and then quickly made up, but never quite like this.

Jared rubbed his face, visibly exhausted. “No, the song isn’t done until it’s perfect. You can leave if you want, but I’m staying.”

I had no doubt he would, too. Jared was not only a perfectionist, but he was hardest on himself. If we didn’t stop him, he would work on this all night, and then he’d be a wreck at the live show.

“Jared, please.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “The song sounds great. If we stay any longer, we won’t have any energy to perform tomorrow.”

“She’s right,” Kyle said. “Your voice already sounds like you’ve been swallowing glass. You need to rest more than any of us.”

“One more hour,” Jared said. “Let me tweak a few things, and then I’ll be done.”

“Whatever, I’m out,” Hector said and banged through the door. So much for our band’s “cohesion.”

I sighed, resigning myself to a long night in this cold, stuffy room. “I wonder if there are any more of those sandwiches in the kitchen.”

“I already checked. There aren’t,” Kyle said. “Go get something to eat. I’ll stay with him.”