we were meeting Maria and Isabella for lunch was like a beehive without a queen. Loud. Unorganized. With price tags that didn’t measure up to the quality of food. A long line of bodies snaked through the dining room. In the booth next to ours, a toddler was crying a river. Ignoring the demon child’s assault on my ears, I spun my laptop toward Isabella and said, “I think The Spot will be great. I know you prefer ground floor, but they do have an elevator. We’re just waiting for confirmation that their restrooms are ADA compliant.”

Isabella studied the images that carouselled on the screen. Her sandwich and soda remained untouched. Maria sat by her side. Levi was sprawled on the bench, sipping his six-dollar latte.

“What about that lounge on Cahuenga? The one we looked at last week? Was that Swan Café?” Isabella looked up from my laptop to her mother, seeking a reaction.

“We liked it.” Maria nodded. She seemed exhausted with stress. Thanks to Jay Brodie PR, her daughter’s schedule was brutal. There were appearances to make and interviews to give. There was sudden interest from several local radio stations and an inquiry from a TV show.

“If we don’t hear from The Spot’s management by the end of the week, we’ll reach out to Swan Café,” I said, mustering up a smile. My phone lay on the table next to my coffee. Its screen was littered with email notifications. “As a matter of fact, they jumped at the offer. What we have to keep in mind is that with their floor layout, setting up a projector could be very tricky. Also, their maximum capacity is only two hundred and fifteen people, and we think using a small venue might be doing you a disservice now that there’s so much interest.”

“Don’t forget about sponsors and special guests. We’ll need room for stand-up banners and merch tables.” Levi set his latte aside and rested both elbows on the tabletop. His gaze darted between Maria and Isabella. “Cassy is in talks with three larger venues that we both think are a much better fit than Swan Café. I believe at least one will come through. I say let’s sit tight for a few more days and not rush into it.”

Maria returned my smile. Hers was just as unenthusiastic and dull as mine. Obviously for entirely different reasons. She wasn’t the one who’d witnessed Hall Affinity’s guitarist’s brush with death five days ago. But that didn’t make her problems any less important. As a matter of fact, her problems were my problems. We lost Melrose Cinema because of my then-boyfriend’s drunken hysteria, and I was determined to find a new venue. Unfortunately, we were running out of time. Linda insisted we make a decision by the end of this week. She couldn’t push back the screening announcement any longer.

My phone blinked at me with another email notification. Though Shayne had taken over most of my duties at Rewired, I still checked my inbox religiously day and night. It was a stupid habit, to stay in the know. Even after I’d promised myself to dedicate the next month and a half solely to Dreamcatchers and Isabella’s band.

But then, what if Margerie Helm had changed her mind? What if Frank had come out of hiding? What if Ashton had gotten into a fight again?

Only, it was Dante’s name that lit up my screen.

Our last encounter concluded with him spitting foam on the floor of the bowling alley in Calabasas. Shock had blurred some of my memories, but I recalled the thick panic that’d taken over the building as paramedics rushed Dante into the ambulance. He’d been taken to the nearest hospital, and I’d spent a good hour sitting behind the wheel of my Honda in the parking lot, willing myself to start the car. The following morning, his name had been in every single headline. By afternoon, Jay Brodie PR had released an official statement. Dante Martinez had pulled through. Alive, though not well, but on his way to recovery.

It’d been a minute since the update. Naturally, the preview of the email that’d just hit my inbox caught my attention.

Flicking my gaze to the screen, I skimmed over the text.

Jay Brodie PR PRESS RELEASE: Dante Martinez Exits Hall Affinity in Light of Health Crisis

Disbelief tightened my chest. I blinked, hoping this was my sight playing tricks on my brain, but the words were still there. Clear as a Southern California Sunday morning. The background noise muffled. Demon child’s screams faded. Isabella’s voice was a thousand miles away.

“Could you please excuse me?” I stood with my phone in my pocket and forced myself to smile. “I’ll be right back.”

In the restroom, I read the press release twice.

It’s with heavy hearts that we announce Dante’s departure from the band due to health issues that require immediate medical attention.

My head spun. I didn’t understand why the news affected me so much. Strange worry settled in my stomach. Worry for Frank, worry for Dante. Worry for people like me who’d been going through life clinging to every song and every emotion the songs evoked.

Dark puzzling worry for everyone and no one in particular.

Was it the end of the road for the band or was it the beginning of something new, perhaps something different?

The tornado of questions that swirled in my head made me dizzy.

The news about Dante’s exit from Hall Affinity spread like wildfire. By the time I returned home, it was everywhere. Twitter, Facebook, his official Instagram account. Shayne had already published a quick post on Rewired, but of course, Levi pushed for a proper editorial. With all the man’s accolades, a list of his best solos, and a gallery of his hottest red carpet outfits. A farewell worthy of the subject.

Do you want to do it? his late-night text read.

Torn between hate and respect for the man in question, I contemplated. Dante and I had quite the history. I knew everything there was to know about his

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