But that wasn’t all he loved.
He never thought he’d be sitting on the floor in Max’s hotel room, watching himnotdo drugs, when he finally realized his band was going to fall apart.
That maybe Monique couldn’t save them.
His heart sank as he realized the depth of his own failure. Max had always been there to support him when Jeff needed it most, and Jeff had flaked when Max needed him to return the favor.
That ended now.
Jeff cleared his throat and gestured at the table. “Do you, um—if I get rid of this, are you going to go through withdrawal?” But maybe that was the wrong question, or the right question but the wrong priority. “I mean, we can get you into a place before the show. What do you want to do?”
In his pocket, his phone buzzed again. The window for the two of them to act without Trix and Joe finding out was closing. And God knew Dina didn’t need to deal with this on her second official day as their tour manager.
“Flush it,” Max said all at once. “I want it out of here. But I can’t—you’ll have to do it. Sorry.”
As if Jeff cared about that. He jumped up and glanced toward the bathroom. He didn’t want to let Max out of his sight in case he changed his mind, but… at some point he had to trust him.
Max hadn’t locked his door. Hadn’t even closed it. Jeff had knocked.
Max had wanted Jeff to find him. He wanted Jeff to stop him. Jeff figured that was more reassurance than most people got.
In the end he grabbed a washcloth, wet it, then pulled the bag out of the garbage can and brought that with him. He swept the neat lines into the can, then emptied the little plastic bag in as well. In the bathroom again, he pulled Carter’s shirt over his nose and closed his eyes as he gently ran a slow stream of water into the can.
Then he tipped the whole thing into the toilet and flushed.
The liner went back in the bin. The washcloth went in the garbage.
After a moment’s thought, he put the garbage can in his room and brought his own to Max’s.
Then he washed his hands with soap and water all the way up to his elbows.
He must have taken too long, because before he’d dried them, Joe and Trix showed up at the door.
Knock knock knock.“Max? Jeff? Are you guys in here?”
Wetting his lips, Jeff poked his head back into the main room. Max hadn’t moved. “Hey,” he said quietly. “What do you want me to do?”
For a moment Max didn’t move, but then he exhaled shakily and rubbed his hands over his face. “Let them in,” he said quietly. “I want to tell them the truth.”
NEEDLESS TOsay, practice did not happen.
Instead, Trix and Joe and Jeff and Max piled into the same bed, the way they had when they were too broke to afford two hotel rooms, and called Jeff’s lawyer.
“You’re sure you’re all on board with leaving,” she verified. “And you’re willing to keep the rest of this conversation to yourselves only.”
They all met eyes, each sitting cross-legged on their own corner of the bed. One by one, they nodded.
“We’re sure,” Trix said. “What do we have to do?”
Monique outlined the plan. “If you’re all in agreement, then for the sake of this arrangement, I’ll act in the capacity of your manager. We’ll need to sign paperwork to that effect before anything goes forward, but I’ve found a competitor label willing to pay the exit penalty on your contract.”
Max looked at Trix, and before Jeff could explain, she said, “That means they’d pay the fee for not delivering the final album.”
“Why would they do that?” Joe smoothed back his hair. “I mean, it’s a lot of money.”
“It is,” Monique agreed. “It is, essentially, an enormous advance on your next album and tour. Which means they’ll only do it if you can deliver an album to them—the album that should be going to Big Moose—before that due date. And they’ll want at least one guaranteed album after that.”
“And we’ll have to tour again,” Trix said, looking at Jeff.
