Page 97 of Animal Beats

Amidst the grumbling and laughing, we don our tuxedos, courtesy of Versace. Holding up the shirt, I note, “This better be worth it.”

“Guys,” our manager enters the room, wearing his own black-and-white formal attire. “Darren’s scholarship fund crossed the one-hundred-thousand mark today. If ‘Refocused Destiny’ wins tonight, I bet this number will increase.”

This is all the encouragement I need to don the appropriate costume. “Let’s do this for Darren.” All the guys bow their heads, and the bellyaching ceases.

Walking to Coop, I nudge his shoulder. “The fucking Oscars. Can you believe we’re here?”

He adjusts his sunglasses. “It’s amazing. I even got new diamond studs for the occasion.” He points to his earrings.

“Looks good, my man.” I adjust my cufflinks. “At least we don’t have to wear these clothes when we perform our song.”

“Damn straight. Although I haven’t gotten my luggage from the tour yet. Have you?”

“Sorry dude, I have.”

“I better bug Luke about it again. Hey, is Hayden coming tonight?”

“Yeah. She’s over at her friend’s, getting dressed. She promised me she’d meet us after the red carpet.”

Coop nods. “Makes sense. If I could avoid walking the gauntlet, I would, no questions asked.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind those things. Make a game out of it, like I do. How about a friendly wager?”

He fiddles with his new earring. “Like what?”

“The band member who gets the most selfies⁠—”

Bennett barges into our conversation. “Has to donate ten grand to Darren’s scholarship fund.”

“Didn’t you already do that,” Tris asks. “When you lost the bet about Río?”

I stand straighter. “Yeah.” My lips turn downward. “That score’s been taken.”

“What am I missing?” 007 walks over to our group.

“A bet to make the red carpet go faster,” I explain. “The stakes are the most selfies.”

“Did I hear ‘selfies’? I’m not sure we’re going to be able to get selfies with the audience at all,” Luke announces. “The powers-that-be want to keep the crowd separated from the talent.”

“Well, shit.” I voice how we’re all feeling.

007 suggests, “How about the person who mentions Darren’s scholarship fund the most wins?”

Coop says, “I like that. How about the prize being the last one having to show up for the jet when our break ends in a month.”

Murmurs of agreement rush through us. Tris shouts, “Good one, Coop!” I simply punch my buddy in the arm.

When we’re all set—with Nese’s approval—we climb into a limo to take us to the awards ceremony. The entire ride is taken up by variations of “unbelievable” and “I’m gonna win the bet!”

En route, I text Hayden to tell her where I am and I expect her to be waiting for me inside. Her reply is typical Hayden:

I’ll be the one ready to give you a glass of water.

Smiling, I can’t help responding:

I could’ve used that line back in Lisbon for a certain babysitter I know. Finally get over your hangover?

A gentleman never brings up such unpleasant subjects.