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I hesitate.
Then shrug.
“Maybe,” I say, voice low. “Maybe if she hears something . . . she’ll remember what we had.”
Dana’s voice softens, but her words don’t pull punches. “You’re not writing for her anymore, Quinn. You’re writing for you. You just don’t want to admit it yet. Writing about life, love, and shit we’ve lost, it’s therapeutic.”
There’s a beat of silence before she stands, tossing her water bottle in the trash. “I’m going to raid your minibar,” she says as she crouches in front of the cabinet. “Then I’m going to go getthe guys, and we’re going to start playing those songs. We need to be perfect before the show tomorrow, and I don’t want to spend hours at rehearsal in the morning.”
Before I can protest, she has a bottle cracked open, poured into one of the plastic cups offered by the hotel, and she’s adding cranberry juice. She walks to the door and looks back at me. “It goes without saying that I think you’re a lyrical genius and I love singing, not only with you but with the songs you write . . .”
“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 Nolaislistening.
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.”
“Itisour 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.”