Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“But?”
“But sometimes people leave for the right reasons, and it takes all the wrong reasons to realize it. If you make your persona on stage about her now, it’ll be hard to change it when you don’t want it to be all about her.”
The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m left alone with the paper again.
She’s right.
But that doesn’t stop me from underlining “Stayed Too Long in Goodbye” and adding: our next release.
Just in case Nola is listening.
ELEVEN
The empty arena buzzes with reverb and frayed nerves. We’ve been running “Come Undone” for close to an hour, and Justine still wants another take—not because she’s off, but because she’s a perfectionist. She’s good. Really good. Her voice threads through the melody like silk through static, grounded and sharp at the same time.
I nod to Ajay behind the kit, and he gives the count-in.
“We were threadbare lovers, tangled and torn . . .
You pulled away while I held on . . .”
Our voices blend on the chorus. Tight, practiced. Justine’s eyes flick to me on the final line, a flash of something playful, but I don’t take the bait. I just stay focused, counting beats, keeping tempo.
It’s easier this way.
When the song ends, she grins. “Okay, now all we have to do is remember this and perform it the same way tonight.”
I smirk. “We will.” I wipe the sweat off my neck with a towel and then look at the list. “Hendrix, you’re going to start ‘Stayed Too Long in Goodbye,’” I tell him. “I want to tease the crowd a bit because they’re all suspecting it to be our closer.”
“It is our closer,” he says.
“I know, but it’s good to keep them on their toes.”
“Agreed,” Elle adds as she comes onto the stage. “And then Dana will come in with ‘Hollow Days,’ giving Quinn a break.”
“I don’t need a break,” I tell her.
“Everyone needs a break,” Elle says. “And since you put the setlist together, you should know you didn’t give your bandmates a break, so I’m adding them in.”
Elle looks pissed, but this is exactly why she has final say in everything. She walks toward Dana, and they bow their heads, probably plotting my demise.
“She thinks of everything,” Justine says from behind me. I turn and take the bottle of water she extends toward me.
“Thanks, and yes, she’s bossy.”
“Efficient.”
I suppose Justine’s right. She sits on the amp, crossing her legs underneath her. “I think it might be hard for her, seeing all the women go crazy for her brother.”
“What are you talking about?” I sit on my stool and tune my guitar while Elle conducts her impromptu business meeting.
Justine laughs. “You’ve got this simmering lead guy energy. The hot, tortured rocker thing going on. The women in the crowd are freaking crazy for you.”
I shake my head. “I’m just here to sing.”
“Really? Because when I watch you perform, it’s like you’re trying to mesmerize the crowd with your voice, your lyrics. You put them in a trance.”
“Do I put you in a trance?”
She blushes and looks away. “I enjoy singing with you.”
I give her a neutral half-smile. “We harmonize well together.”
“Other than Dana, have you sung with anyone else?”
I shake my head and look over my shoulder at my sister, who is holding up our rehearsal.
“No.”
Ajay slaps me on the shoulder and gives it a good squeeze. “Mr. Broody prefers to play alone,” he tells her. I want to elbow him in the gut and tell him to get back behind the drums where he belongs, but he doesn’t give me a chance and stands out of reach.
“How did you join the band?” she asks Ajay.
“Elle asked me after I won a drummer competition their dad held.”
“Oh, I remember seeing some of that online. I didn’t realize you won.”
Ajay nods.
“Gotta say, I’m not a fan of this bonding session,” I tell him, but don’t say anything to Justine. I actually don’t mind her hanging around. She’s a nice kid and eager to learn.
Finally, Elle comes over and says we’re ready to finish so we can get the hell out of here. Tonight is the last night Talking Til Dawn will be on the tour with us. Tomorrow, they’ll head to Beaumont and start working in the studio with Liam on their next album.
We run through the setlist and then start over, but this time, we’re putting on a full damn show for anyone hanging out in the arena. The crew works tirelessly to make sure the sound is perfect, and all is going swimmingly until, between songs, someone on the loudspeaker calls for Eleanora to report to her desk, and then it’s downhill for me even though deep down I know it’s not my Nola.
There’s too much of everything all around me. Nola’s voice in my head. The note she left me in my thoughts. Her engagement ring pressing against my chest, cutting deeper and leaving its mark because of my guitar strap.