He woke up to a text that pushed the good mood right into the gutter.Winnie was spotted this morning with only one cub. Tracker’s not working.
No doubt Carter was taking that personally, and he couldn’t even go out and look for the missing one.Oh no.:(Are they old enough to leave their mother?
He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
Not til next spring.
Shit.I’m sorry. I hope it turns up.
Alive, Jeff didn’t add.
Later, after the band had eaten and gone over the day’s itinerary, Jeff had a few free minutes when he figured Carter might be on lunch break. But when he called, it went to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message.
Jeff hadn’t heard back from him by the time they left for soundcheck. Joe had seemingly recovered from straining his voice, and he sounded almost back to normal. Trix didn’t rush to the bathroom even one time. Max and Jeff got halfway through a song, met eyes, and finished it out before they both rushed for the comp book because they’d had the same idea for one of their new songs.
By the time they surfaced from their tweaking and he remembered to check his phone, he only had half an hour before Makeup.
1 missed call
2 unread texts
They were all from Carter.
Nothing yet today, the first one said.Could be that she was just out of sight.
The second one saidCharlie wants to know if you’re gonna sign my door.
Jeff smiled.Sign no. Christen maybe.He sent that, then glanced at the time and grimaced.Gotta get ready now, Makeup in 30.He wanted to add something else—miss youorwish you were hereor something more sentimental—but they didn’t seem to be doing that. He didn’t want to make Carter feel pressured to come with him on tours. Carter had his own life and his own work he was passionate about.
Anyway, it wasn’t like Carter could possibly not know how Jeff felt about him. Literally anyone who listened to the radio knew.
So he turned off his phone and went to grab a quick shower.
“Blood in the Water” went fine—not Jeff’s personal best performance, but the thing about performing live was every show was different. That was kind of the point.
Jeff’s earpiece crapped out in the middle of the second song after an eardrum-piercing feedback shriek, and he floundered for two measures because it took him that long to find the beat of the music under the ambient noise from the venue.
The techs got him a backup piece before the next song, but Jeff was rattled. It shouldn’t have fazed him; that sort of thing had happened all the time when they were starting out and had shittier equipment. Back then he never would’ve missed a note.
He’d gotten soft.
The crowd laughed when Jeff explained, apologetically, “Amazing how easy it is to take for granted that the tiny speaker in your ear won’t start screaming at any moment.” He glanced over his shoulder at Joe. “Do we dare try something else?”
The next song went smoothly, and Jeff had just about put the earpiece incident behind him. Then Joe tripped over a cord that should’ve been taped down. He didn’t fall, thank God.
Near the end of the first set, as Jeff was starting to relax again, Max started acting strangely.
First he was just slow on the changes. Then he nearly wandered off the side of the stage. By the time Jeff realized he was drunk or high, they were halfway through a song.
Max had a problem. Jeff knew that. But in ten years, it had never interfered with their jobs. As far as Jeff knew, he’d never used before or during a show. Why would he start now?
Jeff caught eyes with Joe, who looked just as worried as Jeff felt. He couldn’t spend too much time looking at Trix, because that would put his back to the audience. Instead he headed toward Max, still playing, to share his microphone for some of the harmony, and managed to surreptitiously—he hoped—turn the volume down on the guitar.
Jeff took over the rhythm guitar part until the outro, when he switched back to lead.
Then Trix cued the tech crew to bring the lights down one song early. Jeff yanked out their patch cords and looped Max’s arm around his neck. “Come on, buddy, let’s get you backstage for a minute.”
Trix met them just behind the stage, worry writ large over her features. “What the hell is going on tonight?”
