Chapter Nine
HIS USUALcar service picked him up at Billy Bishop airport and took him right to the venue, so he didn’t have time to panic. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t do it anyway—not about the concert, not about being onstage, but about being around Max and Trix again.
But when he opened the door to the green room before rehearsal, it was to good-natured laughter, the kind he hadn’t heard in months.
“I don’t think you can rhymepurplewith itself any more times,” Joe said wryly, which led Jeff to understand he’d arrived just in time for one of their pre-show “songwriting” exercises. “Disqualified.”
“Boooooo.” Max wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it at him. “Like you can do better.”
“Whirlpool?” Jeff suggested, setting the Gibson case against the wall. He frowned, considering. “Urinal?”
“Now there’s a combination,” Trix laughed. She twirled a drumstick. “Good flight, Jeff?”
“Beats flying commercial.” He dropped onto the couch next to Joe and pulled a guitar from a nearby armchair. “What did I miss?”
“Aside from Little Max’s TikTok debut?” Trix rolled her eyes. “Not much. We’re very boring without you, you know.”
“Very boring,” Max said, like butter wouldn’t melt. “How was Willow Sound?”
“Oooh, yes.” Trix gave up her seat at the makeup table at the far end of the room to sit cross-legged on the rug in front of the couch and stare up at him like a kid at story time. “HowwasWillow Sound? Did you seeCarter?”
Jeff felt his cheeks going red. “Uh—”
“Oh my God,” Joe said. He set his guitar aside and immediately turned to Jeff with his full attention. “You didn’t tell me you ran into him!”
“I cannot believe you guys remember his name.” Jeff threw his head back against the couch so he didn’t have to look into anyone’s eyes.
“Dude, of course we remember the boy whobroke your heart.” That was Max. “Like, remember that night after we broke into the Top 100 the first time with that song that was definitely about you perving on him in the lake—”
Jeff covered his face.
“—and Trix got drunk and said ‘we should send that guy a thank-you card, what was his name again?’ and you said—”
“All right, yes, okay!” He dropped his hands so he could glower at them more effectively. Of course Max remembered. He’d offered to drive to Willow Sound and punch Carter in the face enough times, as a teenager.
“Anyway, you ran into that guy?” Trix said. “I was just teasing, but seriously. You saw him? Did you, like, slap him for kissing that girl at your mom’s funeral, or was it more awkward, like, ‘hey, just so you know, none of those love songs were about you’?”
“Is he still hot?” Joe asked.
“Fuck you, whose side are you on?” Jeff grumbled.
“Nah,” said Max suddenly. “Don’t tell me you finally hit that.”
“Or let that hit you,” Trix said. “We don’t judge.”
“We absolutely do not judge,” Max agreed. “And also, we want details.”
Joe raised his hand. “I don’t.”
“Overruled.” Trix propped her head in her hands. “Come on, seriously. I know he broke your heart. What happened? Did you get an apology? I mean, he was your best friend.”
All right. “I got an apology,” Jeff acknowledged.
Shockingly, giving an inch did not satisfy the inquisition.
“Good,” said Joe. “About time.”
Trix nodded. “I’m glad. You deserve some closure. Although, like, don’t let it stop you from writing another angsty song about it if the mood strikes.”
