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Good thing he was amazing on guitar—and, it turned out, he had a hell of a stage presence. But I wouldn’t find that out until later.

“Where the fuck are your sticks, Dani? Didn’t you bring them?”

Zack was stressing me out—and I was pissed at him while feeling anxious about not having them. “I didn’t think about them, Zack. You’re the one who did all the packing.”

“Dudes, I got ‘em right here.” Braden approached us, two pairs of drumsticks in each of his hands, held up in the air. “I put them behind my seat in the truck.”

“You got lucky, Mankin. From now on, remember: those are your responsibility.”

“You guys were hauling the drum kit around. How the fuck was I supposed to know?” I tried not to gasp…I’d never said the F word before.

“Us guys are responsible for our picks. You’re responsible for your sticks. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. Okay? I’ll never make that mistake again.” Not once had Zack been this big a jerk during practice or any discussions about our show. Why was he being such an asshole? No one, including him, had told me before now to keep track of the drumsticks.

I was so angry, I was tempted to call my mom so she could pick me up. This was the show I’d begged her to not come watch, though. Had this been in Rocky Ford, she’d already be there. I’d been hoping we’d feel a little more relaxed and better practiced with a second show.

But I knew my mom would come get me if I asked, even if she chewed my butt a little bit. After all, she’d warned me about being around a bunch of boys. Still, I knew she would. In the ways I needed her the most, she was always there.

Instead, I went outside to stand in the cool air for a few minutes.

There were no clouds, so the stars shone brilliantly against the black velvet backdrop of night sky.

I could see little puffs of white vapor leaving my nose and mouth even though it was dark at the back of the bar where I stood.

I considered pacing, but I stood still, leaning against the cold brick wall, my arms crossed over my chest.

How badly did I want this? How much did I want to be around Zack—especially if he acted like a different person?

A year ago—hell, even last school year—I wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of being in this situation in his band.

And when Zack had brought it up, I’d declined at first. Now that I’d gotten good at it and found it fun, I wasn’t so ready to toss my sticks to the ground.

Even with my nerves frayed to their ends as that anxious feeling grew, because I’d never performed in front of an audience, I still wanted to continue drumming.

As for my anger toward Zack, I didn’t know how long that would linger.

Braden peeked out the back door. “ There you are.” With a nod, I hugged my coat around my body. “Everything okay?” I shrugged. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

He cocked his head, coming all the way out of the bar. “You sure you’re okay?”

I didn’t want to bare my soul to Braden. As much as I liked the boy, I knew his loyalty lay with Zack, not me. So I lied. “I’m fine. Let’s do this. ”

He led me to the dressing room area where we had nothing to do before showtime. A cocktail waitress knocked on the door and we invited her in. “Hey, guys. Boss says he wants me to take your drink orders.”

Zack said, “Seriously? Rum and coke, babe.”

“Cute, honey. You’re all of seventeen, ain’t ya?”

“Does that matter when my music speaks of the ages?”

“Honey, the cops don’t care if you’re a Mozart and Axl Rose combined with a touch of Einstein. I ain’t gettin’ in trouble again.” She cleared her throat. “Now. What’ll it be?”

We all agreed on Dr. Pepper, and the lady, a woman who appeared to be about my mom’s age, scooted off.

Once the door closed behind her, Zack started laughing and pulled out a small flask.

“Joke’s on them.” Braden held out a hand, but Zack didn’t hand it over.

“Hold on. Will you be able to play okay if you have a touch?”

“Dude. Just one swallow.”

“Okay, that’s the deal. Everyone can have a taste, just enough to get your motor revvin’.”

I wouldn’t be having any , because I already knew I didn’t like the taste. I couldn’t imagine it magically changing when I turned twenty-one.

Zack slid the bottle back into the pocket of his jacket that hung on a wooden chair behind him. “But it’ll have to wait till the coast is clear.”

I imagined at least Cy would be rational about it, too.

What was the point of sipping a little alcohol?

At least Zack decided to control it instead of guzzling mouthful after mouthful like he and Braden often did after practice on multiple occasions.

I couldn’t imagine us sounding decent if the band was half blitzed.

When the woman came back in with a tray holding four glasses of Dr. Pepper on the rocks, I noticed that she probably wasn’t as old as I’d first thought.

She was definitely older than we were, but I could tell now that she wasn’t as old as my mom.

Holding the tray steady, she placed one drink at a time on the table.

“Enjoy.” But then, as she walked out, almost as an afterthought, she pointed at Zack and crooked her finger toward herself.

“Why don’t you come with me for a minute? ”

Raising his eyebrows, Zack grinned, managing to swallow half his glass before tearing across the room to see what the woman wanted. “Be back, guys.”

Before the rest of us could respond, he was out of the room, leaving the door hanging ajar. Cy picked up his glass. “Guess we’ll be starting the show without you.”

“Dude, we got ten minutes. And if he’s a minute late, who cares? It’s not like we’re gonna piss off hundreds of people.”

“Yeah, but did you look out front?”

“When we were setting up.”

“There were people coming in. Lots of them. Friday night live bands must be a big deal here.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s good, right? If we’re gonna play to a podunk bar in a town in the middle of nowhere,” I said, throwing Cy’s earlier words back at him, “don’t we want a good crowd?”

“Yeah, but not if our lead singer is blitzed out of his mind.”

I resisted the urge to fake drum as the three of us sat down at the small table, but I had a lot of nervous energy needing to get out.

My anger had mostly dissipated, but it had only been replaced by something worse—a gnawing anxiety over something I had no control over.

Cyrus started telling jokes, something I’d never imagined him capable of because he seemed to have the sense of humor of celery, but he had Braden guffawing after a minute, and I actually joined in with a giggle or two.

What had been a dull roar wafting in from the bar when we’d arrived was now almost deafening. Cy looked down at his watch. “It’s go time. Where the fuck is Zack?”

This was all new to me, and my nerves prevented me from reasoning properly. “Should we go out there and wait for him?”

“No. We’ll enter together as a band, unless we decide to play the entire set without him.”

Braden was already up, strapping on his bass, his drink long gone.

Seeming to like the idea, Cyrus also picked up his guitar.

Following suit, I grabbed both pairs of drumsticks, one in each hand, and tried to deepen my breathing.

It was too shallow, making me lightheaded, but between the worry of my first performance and wondering where the hell Zack had disappeared to, I couldn’t calm my nerves.

What the hell was Zack thinking? This was supposed to be the first night of the rest of his life…and he was probably doing something stupider than taking a shot of whiskey. Were we going to be stuck in the back of the bar all night waiting for our leader to arrive?