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"Because of the other guy?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

"What other guy?" She sounds genuinely confused.

"The one who picked you up after the party. Tall, brooding, looked like he wanted to rip my head off."

"Oh. Leo." She laughs softly. "It's complicated."

"I'm good with complicated," I insist. "Just give me a chance to see you again."

There's muffled talking on her end, like she's covering the phone to speak to someone.

"I have to go," she says suddenly. "I'm sorry."

"Wait…" But she's already hung up.

I stare at my phone in disbelief. Did she just blow me off?

"Ouch," Luke winces. "That was painful to watch."

"Shut up," I growl.

Marcus pats my shoulder. "Welcome to the real world, rock star. Sometimes women say no."

"She didn't say no," I argue. "She said she's busy."

"Which is woman-code for 'not interested,'" Derek points out helpfully.

I throw my phone onto the couch. "She's interested. You didn't see how she was with me that night."

"Maybe she just wanted a one-night stand with a celebrity," Luke suggests. "Some people do that, you know. Sleep with famous people for the story."

"Not her," I shake my head. "It wasn't like that."

"Face it, bro," Marcus says. "You've finally met a woman who doesn't fall at your feet, and you can't handle it."

"Fuck you," I snap, "I'll get her. You'll see."

"Five hundred bucks says you won't," Derek challenges.

"You're on," I say without hesitation. "Let's get back to work."

We run through our song three more times, but I keep fucking up the bridge. My mind isn't on the music.

"That's it," Luke throws down his bass pick. "We're done for today. Axl can't focus for shit."

"Sorry, guys," I mutter.

"Don't apologize," Derek says, spinning a drumstick between his fingers. "Just fix whatever's going on in that pretty head of yours before tomorrow's show."

"I'm trying."

They pack up their gear, and soon I'm alone in the studio. I pick up my guitar and start playing.

I play for hours, trying to work through my frustration. By the time I finish, my fingers are cramping, and the studio is bathed in moonlight.

As I'm packing up my guitar, my phone rings. It's Ricky again.

"Tell me you have good news," I answer.