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I look down at my hands, so I won’t tell Colin to fuck off. So I won’t say something I might regret and storm out of the room. Coming here tonight, I never in a million years thought I’d contemplate flat-out quitting my band over this. Or over anything. But I suddenly feel the urge to say those unthinkable words in this moment. Fuck it. Fuck you. Fuck this. I quit.
“I think you should do it,” Dax says, breaking the thick silence. And when I look up at him, I see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “Like Keane said, we’ll make it work because, at the end of the day, we care more about your happiness than our own.”
“Dax,” Colin spits out. “You know damned well how many people are counting on—”
“They can wait!” Dax booms, going from zero to sixty in a heartbeat—which is so unlike him, it’s shocking. Dax stands and throws up his hands, his eyes blazing. He’s towering over Colin on the couch now, shouting at him. “Why the fuck are we doing any of this, Colin? Why have this band at all if it keeps us from doing the things we want to do the most—especially for the people we love the most? I know you’re jaded right now because Kiera dumped you . . .” He points at me on the floor. “But our boy is in love for the first time in his life—and probably the last time, too, I’m guessing—and he wants to do this amazing thing for his woman. For the woman he loves. Well, fuck the world! Fuck the schedule. And fuck our band if any of it means our boy can’t do this for the love of his life! The world can wait a little longer for the fifth fucking album from 22 Goats. Our music isn’t a goddamned cure for cancer! Our fans will survive. But Fish won’t survive saying no to his woman about this! Haven’t you noticed he’s been slowly disintegrating before our eyes these past weeks? Well, obviously, this is why!”
I could cry. In fact, I’m swallowing hard to keep tears from forming and rolling down my cheeks.
“Preach!” Keane bellows, his arms raised like Dax is a Baptist preacher.
Dax sits next to me on the floor. He tousles my hair, the way I always tousle Jackson’s. “Do it, Matty-boy. Nobody but you should produce that album, just like nobody but Zander should guard Aloha. You’re going to make her shine. The same way you’ve always made me shine. Because when you love someone, that’s what you do. You make it all about them—and you make them shine.”
Well, fuck. Tears well up in my eyes, despite my best efforts. If I speak, they’ll drip down my face. So, I don’t speak. I just pat Dax’s arm in gratitude and then place my forehead against his shoulder.
There’s a very long moment of silence.
Until, finally, Zander says, “So . . . does this mean Peenie and I are witnessing the breakup of 22 Goats?”
Keane blurts, “Whoa. Is Ally ‘Yoko-ing’ the band?”
“Shut up, Peen,” Dax says softly. “Ally isn’t Yoko.” He pats my head. “We’re simply agreeing we’re just going to slow things down a bit. Delay our album and tour to carve out three or four months for Fish to focus on this project. Right, Colin? That’s what we’re agreeing to here, right?”
I look up to peek at Colin’s face. And he looks like he’s having a thousand thoughts, all at once.
“Hand me that, Peenie.” Dax points at his tequila. His big brother dutifully complies and brings him the glass, and Dax takes a long, measured sip before saying, “I have a confession to make.” He takes a deep breath and places his glass on the floor next to him. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you guys for a while now. Even if Fish hadn’t brought this up . . . when this upcoming album and tour cycle were over, I was going to tell you I need to slow down quite a bit, or quit all together. The current pace isn’t good for Jackson. And it’s not good for me. I need our tours to be shorter. I need more time between albums. I need to be able to recharge my batteries with my family for much longer stretches. And if that’s not doable for everyone, then . . .” He shrugs, making it clear these requests aren’t negotiable.
“That all sounds great to me,” I confess. “Obviously, I don’t have a wife and kid. But even I’ve been feeling like I’m barreling toward burnout lately, too.”
I glance at Colin again. He looks stunned. Vaguely panicked.
“I’m sorry, Colin,” Dax says. “I know this isn’t what you want. You, more than either of us, thrive on the thrill of it all.”
