“You know what,” Cole grit out. “We can’t keep sitting around waiting for you to find someone. How many auditions have you held in the past two weeks?”
Zero. I’d bet anything I was right. When Abel had said that one of his conditions for recording this album was that he would be the one to find us a session guitarist, I knew the recording was unlikely to ever happen. He didn’t want to do this with us. He’d said as much, but Cole and Silas wouldn’t accept his words at face value.
“However many I deemed worth my time,” the singer spit out, his fists curling by his sides.
This was normally where I’d interfere to defuse the situation, to help them see that we all wanted the same thing, that we were on the same team. Instead, I stood watching the scene play out in front of me in silence.
“Well, I think Adeline is more than worth our time,” Cole retorted. “She played our song up there. You would have heard it if you hadn’t left.”
“I couldn’t listen to a botched rendition of a song I wrote.”
Silas took a step toward Abel. “That’s not true. They played it well.”
Abel sneered, but Cole didn’t give him a chance to argue. “I agree. You need to let her audition.”
My heart rate spiked. Abel didn’t take well to people telling him what to do, and this was going to blow up imminently.
After Charlie’s death, I’d promised myself that I would take a backseat in the band going forward. I couldn’t take that responsibility on anymore. But now, watching as two of my best friends were on the brink of doing something they’d regret, my body seemed to move between them on its own volition.
I stepped forward and turned to Abel, scanning him over. I may not have been as familiar with his idiosyncrasies as I was with Cole’s, but I could tell that his temper was a taut string, ready to snap at the slightest of pressure. In the aftermath of Charlie’s death, his list of triggers seemed to be constantly growing, so I wasn’t surprised he didn’t want to listen to one of Charlie’s favorite songs played live. But his grief didn’t excuse the fact that he’d been leading the guys on for the past few weeks. He must have known that Cole and Silas would eventually demand to take the search for a guitarist into their own hands.
Abel craned his neck to the side, keeping his gaze on Cole over my shoulder. “I don’t need to doshit.”
My palms landed on his arms. “Abel, look at me.” After a long moment, the singer turned, his furious green eyes finding mine. “This was always going to happen,” I told him in a firm tone. “Your process can’t be a black box to the rest of the band. If you let her audition, you can have the final say, but you can’t just dismiss someone we all think has potential.”
I was giving him a way out, but if he recognized that, it didn’t show. His upper lip was still curled in a sneer. “You, too? You’re with them on this one?”
When did our band become an-us-versus-them situation?
When you let your bandmate overdose alone in his home instead of taking care of him like you should have.
The sadness came accompanied with sudden nausea. Unable to speak with my stomach churning, all I could do was nod. Abel ground his teeth before shrugging my hands off and getting into the car. When I looked back at Cole, his expression was grateful. I shook my head. This had been a moment of weakness on my part. The way I felt about this album or this band hadn’t changed. Cole, who knew me as well as I knew him, must have read my thoughts, because his face fell.
I’m sorry. But I can’t do this anymore.
We climbed into the car, and Cole told Leo to take us to Abel’s, signaling that the conversation wasn’t yet over. Silas and I shared a look that showed we both knew this was going to be a long night, which was a mainstay in our communication lately. At least Abel didn’t argue with our destination. That was a good sign.
A good sign for who? Do you even know what you want anymore?
The drive was silent, the four of us sitting mute while Leo kept the music off. At one point, I opened my mouth to request he put something on, but then I decided that would be admitting to how awkward I felt. How awkwardwefelt. And I wasn’t quite ready to make that admission.
“I’m tired,” Abel announced as we pulled up to his house.
“So am I,” Cole retorted. “The faster we talk it out, the faster we can crash.”
The house was an architectural marvel. A statement of how far Abel had come. He’d once told me that he often dreamed of his foster parents showing up here, not knowing that this was where he lived whenever he was in town. In his dream, they’d crane their necks to look inside, their faces painted with shock at the opulence their foster kid could now afford. He said their eyes would look hollow in the dream, and it was that detail that gave him the most satisfaction.
I shuddered as I stepped inside. His place was always so pristine that I felt like I was ruining some precious piece of art with my presence. Abel caught my subtle reaction and gave me a strange look, but I shook my head and moved to sit on the large U-shaped couch.
“All right,” Cole began once we all sat down. “Abel, we got Adeline’s number after Silas nearly scared her off by asking her to record the album with us. I’m going to call her tomorrow and ease her into the idea of coming to the studio.”
The singer tipped a beer bottle into his mouth while glaring at Cole.
“It will be an audition,” he said.
Cole groaned beside me. “Tonight might as well have been an audition. She passed with flying colors. You agreed to record this album because you know Charlie would have wanted that, but now you’re looking for any fucking excuse to delay.”
Abel shook his head, but his gaze moved down to the ground. “Not true. I just want the best guitarist we can find. If I’m going to be producing this album, it needs to be on my terms.”
