Page 57

My bandmates know me well enough to see I’m full of shit. Sam looks worried, and Mike’s lips thin into a tight line—he knows nothing he says will change our situation.

“Thanks,” I say into the shared, almost reverent silence. “I really appreciate your loyalty.”

“We’re all in the same boat,” Mike remarks with a shrug. “We just have to make the best of it.”

We haven’t even discussed what happens after. I don’t have the energy to think about whether we want to keep going—whether with a contract or without one—so I avoid bringing it up altogether.

Exhausted, I drop onto the couch, elbows on my knees, and bury my face in my hands. Ever since Leslie and Fox showed up last night, my thoughts have been spinning in circles. What surprises me most is that it’s not the thing with Koh that’s occupying me—it’s what the press is doing.

Koh only had one wish when I came back: to stay out of all this. He made it clear he doesn’t want to be in the public eye. I respected that. If I’d had the choice, I would’ve hidden in a cave too, but I don’t have that luxury.

The tabloids going after Koh and making up bullshit about him is too far, even for me.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, sitting beside me with a beer. He’s tied his blond curls back, but the sides are too short, giving him a bit of a surfer-boy look.

I lean back and lace my fingers behind my head, staring at the ceiling. “They’re hunting my roommate.”

“That guy is your roommate?” Sam asks, dropping into the armchair across from us.

I sigh. “My house sitter, technically.”

“They’ve been busy,” Mike notes as he sits in the other chair and props his feet on the coffee table. “They already know you drove to the show together.” He holds up his phone like that proves his point.

“What can I do to keep him out of the media?” I ask the room.

All three musicians stare at me, stunned.

“You were always the media guy,” Sam replies.

“That was five years ago.”

“Your Instagram still exists. Or you could start on TikTok. That would definitely avert attention away from the guy.”

Mike nods. “I think so too. Sure, the tabloids will want more than one photo, but it’s a start for now.”

Liam bounces his knee, spins the beer can in his hand, and watches me sideways.

“What do you think?” I ask him.

He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I don’t know. Social media is a start, but it won’t fix the real problem. If you want the vultures to leave your doorstep, you’ll probably have to do an interview.”

I know Liam is right, but the idea disgusts me. My pulse spikes and sweat gathers in my palms.

“On the other hand, you should be glad,” Liam continues. “As long as the paparazzi are chasing him, you get some peace. I thought you two hate each other.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, intrigued. “You didn’t give a shit about the guy two weeks ago. What changed?”

“Nothing.” I stare at my hands and avoid their eyes.

“Why did you even give him the concert tickets?” Mike asks.

“If I hadn’t, he probably would’ve held it against me eventually. It was a chance to show gratitude. He took really good care of the apartment. Kind of a peace offering.”

“So he’s not completely irrelevant to you anymore.”

“What the hell?” I shake my head, annoyed. “I just respect his boundaries. And right now, the tabloids are trampling all over them.”

“As far as I know, Leslie called the lawyers today,” Sam says while packing up. “No idea if it’ll help.”