So that’s how they operated. If they were fine with it, who was I to challenge it? I glimpsed at Mason, only to find a strange expression on his face. He was frustrated, but there was something vulnerable simmering alongside the frustration.
“Fine,” I said, bringing my palms up in surrender. “I’ll drop it.”
“Great.” Kaz leaned back in his chair. “We know what we’re doing, all right? Somehow, we’ve gotten this far without you telling us how to run our band.”
I huffed. “I’m not telling you how to run your band, but I am here to help you. We all want this to be a success, right?”
Kaz considered me. “Of course, we do.”
“Then let’s agree to something.” I volleyed my gaze to Mason. “We have a lot on the line here. We don’t need to be friends, but can we at least promise we’ll be civil to each other?”
If they said no, I’d just have to put myself out of my misery and tell Trinity she had to find someone else to do this job. The mere thought of that conversation made me break out in a cold sweat. Still, I couldn’t spend my time here constantly fighting with the two of them.
Mason’s cheek fluttered. He was clenching his jaw. “Fine,” he said finally. “If you can respect our decisions, we can do civil. And we can at least agree on one more thing.”
“Yeah?” I asked, tempering my relief.
“We’ll never be friends.”
8
KAZ
I fucking hated getting up early. Havingsomething to do before noon meant the first sound I heard was the shrill ringing of my alarm clock. It drove me crazy that the note it was programmed with was painfully off-key. Every time I heard it, I swore I’d take the thing apart and fix it, but I hadn’t done it yet. The alarm rang on Wednesdays, and as the week went by I’d forget all about it, until it was Wednesday once again.
Eight am, and the traffic was moving at a glacial speed. If this kept up for much longer, I wouldn’t have time to stop by the coffee shop, and then it would really be game over. If I didn’t get some caffeine in me, I might have to skip out on this week’s stakeout, and I was ready to approachhimtoday and get this thing over with.
I ran a hand over my short hair and blew out a breath. In the car beside me, a woman in a crisp white blouse was talking on her phone, reciting financial metrics to her boss. To my left, a middle-aged man was going over his schedule with his wife. It felt like everyone except me was functioning at one hundred percent, and it annoyed the shit out of me. The world wasn’t designed for people like me. The ones who operated better in the dark.
I’d figured this out a long time ago, but I couldn’t say I’ve made peace with it. My childhood had been marred by disciplinary meetings—Kaz was sleeping in class, Kaz was rude to his teachers, Kaz doesn’t socialize with the other kids. It wasn’t on purpose. I was just tired all the fucking time, but in Russia, no one gave a shit about excuses. Everyone had rules they had to live by.
When it became clear I’d never internalize that simple fact, my mama enrolled me in a high school in the United States. She said it was for my own good, and maybe it was, but I knew the real reason she’d sent me away. I’d been a problem for her from the moment I was conceived, and finally, she had a socially acceptable excuse to get rid of me for good.
The traffic began to clear. With “Arabella” by Arctic Monkeys as my soundtrack, I gunned it toward the exit. I only had twenty minutes left, but it was enough time to get my caffeine fix before driving to my father’s office.
“Father,” I muttered to myself. The word felt strange on my tongue. Mikhail, mama’s husband, never liked it when I called him that, so I’d long since stopped using the word. The man hated me for a multitude of reasons. One, I was a walking reminder of my mama’s infidelity. Two, Mikhail and my mama had tried to conceive a child unsuccessfully for years, and my arrival had made it clear who’s fault that was. And three, my rebellious outbursts mixed like oil and water with his disciplinarian personality. It was actually kind of impressive he’d allowed me to live in his household for nearly fourteen years.
I hadn’t spoken to him since I left Russia. Hadn’t been back there since then either. Mama never invited me to visit, and frankly, I had zero fucking desire to go back. The United States wasn’t perfect, but I’d found something here I never thought I’d have.
A real friend.
I swear, Mase and I were polar opposites in most things, but when it came to shit that mattered, we were exactly the same. Instead of blood, we had music coursing through our veins. We lived and breathed our art. We healed through our art. We knew love through our art.
At the light, there was a young woman crossing the street with her tiny daughter. The child said something, and her mother laughed before pulling teasingly on her pigtail. It felt fucked up that seeing normal families doing normal things made me feel a low pang of envy.
Love wasn’t taught to me growing up. My mama took care of me—dressed me, fed me, took me to school—but she did all of those things with a level of emotional detachment that was impossible to miss, even for a kid. There’d always been a distance between us. A void she refused to cross. No wonder I sometimes felt as if I still lived in that lonely void.
But music turned out to be Mason’s bridge through it. I let him in quickly. Far quicker than I’d ever thought was possible. We met the first day we moved into our campus home, and within hours, I was already playing him some music I’d written. We liked the same bands, and we shared a lot of the same opinions. I felt at ease around him. It was like we clicked on a subconscious level—two halves of one soul. Life became better with him around, so when he told me he was leaving Northeastern, I didn’t have to think twice before dropping out with him.
I parked in front of the coffee shop and climbed out of my car. It was a five-year-old Nissan Rogue and I’d grown attached to it. I never owned a car until we got to LA, so I had no idea how much I’d enjoy driving it—outside of rush hour, that is. Long drives cleared my head. But the drives I took on Wednesday mornings had a different purpose all together.
Inside, I ordered an iced black coffee and went to wait by the other end of the counter. A girl, no more than twenty, caught my eye and smiled. She was cute. Blond hair and green eyes.
And just like that, my mind jumped to another green-eyed girl.
I didn’t think Molly was anything special the first time I met her. My first impression of her was that she was attractive, but in a preppy, boring way. My opinion of her plummeted quickly when I realized the kind of person she was—a conformist. A rule follower. Scared of authority. Did everything by the book. She’d practically broken out in hives when I suggested we take a peek inside a library no one ever used. It was like she’d never picked a lock in her entire life. Must have been a pretty fucking boring life.
She and Mason were friends back then, but I didn’t think they had much in common besides being from the same small town. She’d been an unimportant blip in my consciousness, and I would have forgotten all about her if it hadn’t been for that party.
