Page 5

It boggles my mind that Hendrix pines after Dana. She’s made it very clear they are nothing but bandmates. Not even friends at this point. Whatever they had is over and continues to be over, but he swears they’re meant to be.
I get it because that’s how I feel about Nola, and I would probably fight my ass off to save our relationship. But if she told me we were done, I’d accept it and go on my way. There’s no point in begging for someone’s attention who doesn’t want to give it.
Before they can get deep into an argument, I speak up. “Yes, we have eighteen solid songs to play.”
I wait to see if Hendrix has something to say. When he doesn’t, I make a mental note to talk to him later and see where his head is at. This was his band long before I came in, but I’m here at the request of my sister—the manager—and don’t really care to stay if I’m not wanted or if Hendrix isn’t going to take things seriously. Something tells me if I were to leave, Keane, Ajay, and probably Dana would follow. I would really hate to break up Sinful Distraction, but I can’t be a part of something that isn’t fully supported by everyone.
“Here’s my list,” Ajay says as he brings his sheet of paper over. I fold it into fours and stick it in my pocket. I don’t need to see what anyone has put down; that’s for Elle. Ajay goes back to his kit and begins playing again.
“Do you have lyrics for this tune?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not really. Like I can hear something, but it’s jumbled.”
“I’ll work with you later if you want,” I say. “Maybe it’s something we can debut on tour.”
Ajay’s smile brightens the room. “I’d like that.”
Despite my feelings about being in a band, I have to admit this is the benefit of being in one, being able to collaborate with your mates to create amazing music.
Dana finishes her list, and I do the same with it as I did with Ajay’s. Keane is next, and then mine. No one is surprised when Hendrix is last. He gives me his, already folded, and I slip it in my pocket with the others.
Hendrix picks up his guitar and plugs it into the amp. I fully expect him to start jamming, whether or not the rest of us are ready. He keeps the volume low and begins strumming. I wish we were closer, and we could sit down and talk about what’s bothering him, but we’re not. I think it’s more than Dana giving him the cold shoulder.
We finally start practice with the few songs we know we’ll play on the tour. Dana takes the mic while I continue to sit on the stool. Eventually, we’ll rent some stage space and go through the ins and outs of the tour. Luckily for us, Dana’s hot. She can do whatever she wants on stage while the rest of us play. She will dance around, headbang, and move in between us without losing any momentum. Honestly, we’re lucky she graces us with her presence.
Halfway through practice, Nola texts me.
Nola
When will you be home?
In a couple of hours. What’s up?
Nola
Okay, staying at school to study.
I hold my phone, staring at the screen. She’s never stayed at school to study, and if she has, she’s never told me. I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does.
“Everything okay?” Dana asks. I glance at her. She’s standing there, holding the mic and stand, waiting for me.
“Sorry,” I mumble and slip my phone back into my pocket. I can’t let what’s going on at home affect me at work. If I do, I hurt the band, and that’s not fair to them.
THREE
The sun peeks through the window and I squint to block the rays, placing my arm over my eyes, then rolling onto my side. I reach for Nola but find her side of the bed empty. Not only empty, but cold.
Lately, when I get home from band practice, Nola’s still at school, studying. I’ve waited up for her a couple of times but tend to fall asleep sitting on the couch. I hate when I do that because my neck tends to hurt the next day.
It would be nice, though, if we could stay up and talk or watch a movie when she gets home but says she’s tired and I’ve already taken a nap. It’s a weird cycle.
I get up, stretch, use the bathroom, and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. Nola’s at the island, reading a book and sipping on a cup of coffee.
“Morning.” I kiss the top of her head and make my way toward the coffee maker.
“Morning. What time do we need to be at the venue?”
I put the cup Nola left out for me under the dispenser, add a new pod, press some buttons, and wait. While it brews, I turn to face her, resting my hands on the island.