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‘A man dropped from the rafters with an extinguisher, Molly,’ Ashley muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

‘It added to the ambience!’ Molly shot back, digging her heels in. ‘Very rock and roll. Loved it.’

The journalist stared at her for two solid seconds, clearly trying to figure out if Molly was concussed or just extremely eccentric. She slowly clicked her pen.

‘Right. Well... Ashley, there are several love songs on the new album. A lot of people are saying they’re about Molly. Is that true?’

Ashley cleared her throat. Molly found herself leaning in ever so slightly for the answer.

‘Yeah,’ Ashley said.

She stopped there. Molly waited, but Ashley didn’t say anything else. She just stood there, looking at the journalist. Her jaw looked very tight.

The silence went on for three seconds too long. Molly cleared her throat and tried to save her. ‘I know she’s confident on stage, but sometimes she can be a bit shy offstage, can’t you?’

Ashley nodded. ‘Yes.’

Molly thought she might say a bit more, but no, that was it.

‘Lucky she has you to jump in for her,’ the journalist said, looking between them.

‘I’m definitely the talker,’ Molly said sincerely.

Something about the way the journo looked at them made Molly suddenly nervous. She reached out and took Ashley’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Her palm was sweating. She squeezed Ashley’s fingers too hard, a clumsy, messy movement. Ashley didn’t pull away, though. She squeezed back, tighter, and held Molly’s hand flat against her thigh.

‘Well, it’s a great start to the tour—fires notwithstanding,’ the journalist said, clicking her recorder off. ‘Okay, just need a quick shot.’ She took out her iPhone and held it up.

Molly smiled, Ashley smiled.

The iPhone went down. ‘Thanks for the five minutes. Have a good night.’ The woman turned around and walked back into the crowd toward the bar.

Molly dropped Ashley’s hand immediately. Her palm felt cold where the sweat was drying. ‘A curtain was on fire?!’

‘It was six feet tall, Molly!’ Ashley buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with quiet, suppressed laughter. ‘The entire crowd was screaming! How did you miss a smoke alarm?’

‘I was listening to a meditation app on my noise-cancellers!’ Molly threw her hands up defensively, her face burning. ‘You could have warned me!’

‘I didn’t think I needed to brief you on the venue catching fire!’ Ashley shoved both hands into her jacket pockets, though her eyes were brighter than they’d been all night, the heavy awkwardness between them temporarily shattered by the absurd lie. ‘“Seamless,” Molly? Really?’

‘I covered really well!’ Molly declared.

Then she realised that she was smiling at Ashley and Ashley was smiling at her. And no one was taking their picture.

Molly threw her eyes towards a poster for a beer brand on the wall. ‘I’m going to find some water. My mouth is dry.’

‘The bar is packed,’ Ashley said. ‘Toby and Jax are over there. They’re arguing about a lost drumstick, so avoid them if you can, because they have a habit of pulling third parties into their spats,’ Ashley said, shifting her feet. Her boot clipped Molly’s shoe by accident, a sharp crack of leather. Both of them moved back a six-inch step at the same time. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Molly said.

They stood another few seconds without speaking. The noise from the party was very loud behind them.

‘I’m thirsty. I’ll risk it,’ Molly said and walked quickly away.

Five Years Ago

The bright, artificial lights of the set beat down on Molly. Around her, stagehands were shifting a sofa, the director was barking notes about a missed comedic cue, and her co-star (Dara Cane, first on the call sheet) was loudly complaining about the lukewarm catering. It was the exact kind of professional chaos Molly had spent years praying for. She had a steady television gig, a dressing room with her name on the door, and a script in her hand.

She should have been ecstatic. Instead, she was staring blankly at her phone screen during a five-minute lighting reset.