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“Am I the only one confused here?” I grumble. “I daydream a little and Jelly throws sticks at me. But Link literally clunks out, and that’s okay?”
“Don’t be such a prick.” Link drags himself into a sitting position, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his face into his open palms.
“Did you actually write any good music?” I ask him. Fine. He’s tired. Whatever. It happens to all of us. I’d love to start recording something new though.
“I don’t know!” Link shoots to his feet and glares at me. The anger in his eyes slashes me through and through.
“Chill, man. It was just a question.” I pat him on the shoulder.
He throws my hand off. “No, it wasn’t. You neverjustask if we have anything good going on.”
“Hey, Link. You need some air?” Tristan joins. He’s not our usual peacekeeper. If anything, he’s more prone to starting the fights than anyone, so his peaceful tone is all the more astounding.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Jelly gets out from her kit and stands next to us. “Let’s all go and get some food. Yes?”
“Why do we bother doing this at all?” Link rubs his face again, and I finally notice dark, deep shadows underneath his eyes.
“Are you good?” I ask.
“Nothing is ever good enough for you,” he snarls, rounding me and Jelly and heading for the door. “What if we never outsell Project Viper? What if they win all the Grammys, steal all our fans, all our friends…” He turns around, mocking eyes hinting at what happened with Juliette. “Enough of your perfectionism. It sucks. You suck all the life out of us. ACD used to be fun. Now we’re all slaves to your misguided ambitions. Every time we set out to create anything new, you harass us to run stronger, faster, harder. That’s not why we started this.”
“Why then?” I yell back at him. What the eff have I done to earn the lecture? “Wasn’t fame our goal? Remember what you told me when we decided we should be in a band?”
Link scoffs, infuriating me all the more.
“Well, let me remind you. You said,All the fame, all the money, all the awards. The best band ever, period.That’s the only reason I ever got on board with you. And this”—I gesture between us—“is far from the best. The stats stand to prove it. Streaming numbers are down. Social media followers and engagement are down, Charlie’s magic notwithstanding. Sales? Dismal. Bookings? None. If things go on as they are, we won’t be able to headline our own tour, new album or not. We’ll have to be the opening band again.”
“I remember!” Link replies, still yelling. “But you expect it to happen overnight. It’s been only five years, Jace. Sure, we’re not Project Viper. Not the sensation. None of us have Marshall’s voice or their whole band’s altogether freakishly good looks. But we still have something amazing. We still have Tristan. He’s solid, hardworking, and could show up anyone on the current scene. We have Jelly.” His voice softens as he points at her. “She dropped out of Juilliard to be with us. They call her a Beat Goddess, for crying out loud. Yes, we climbed up, up, and up. And yes, we’re down right now. Stalled. Calm down and smell the roses. Life isn’t only about music.” He throws me one last look before he leaves, and the heat of the fight goes right out of him. He doesn’t even slam the door behind him. He doesn’t close it at all.
“Link!” Jelly runs after him. Tristan and I stare at each other, both speechless.
Misguided ambitions. Perfectionism. ACD used to be fun. Calm down.
Link’s words burn inside me, sticky poison on torn flesh. As a band, we fight quite often. Swear words fly with no restraints, and we spend days not talking, but not like this. I can’t pinpoint anything particular that could’ve caused him to blow up like that. Something triggered Link. He looks exhausted.
What if he’s—
I rush out of the room and out onto the street. Jelly and Link sit on the curb at the far edge of the parking lot. The late morning sun filters through the branches of the trees separating this square of asphalt from the road, dappling them in bright spots. Link rests his head in his hands while she rubs his back.
I cross the lot and crouch in front of him. “Are you sick?” Please, no. Anything but that.
His head snaps up, and the sheer rawness in his haunted eyes slams into me. “Don’t tell Briar. None of you can tell her.” His eyes dart toward something behind me. Someone. Tristan. “Do you understand? She can never know.”
Briar is the daughter of our recording label’s president, a chronic wild child at heart, and Link’s girlfriend. From what anyone can see, they’re so desperately in love with each other, they’d resort to black magic to save each other if it came to it. They’re not in a rush to marry, but he has said many times that she’s his only one forever and he will marry her, just not yet. For him to ask us to keep his condition a secret…
“What’s the diagnosis anyway?” Tristan voices the question I’d like to know the answer to.
Link heaves himself off the curb and onto his feet. “That’s the problem. There isn’t one. I’ve developed a sleeping disorder where my brain refuses to fall asleep until it’s incapable of staying awake anymore. It’s not insomnia, not a tumor, and not anything else that they can think of. Until I figure out what it is, I don’t want Briar to know. She’ll get involved and worried and… No. I don’t want to heap this onto her life.”
“That’s what love is, Link.” Jelly stands as well. “Trusting someone to let them worry on your behalf.”
“Yes, Mom.” He shoots her a teasing grin, then looks at each of us in turn. “Can you do that for me? Keep this under wraps? It’s Briar’s birthday soon. She should have fun and throw her usual crazy shindig, not lose sleep over me.”
“See what you did there?” Tristan points a finger at him. “Lose sleep over a person who can’t sleep?”
“Yes, yes. He’s a master punsmith. We’ll keep it under wraps. Don’t worry.” I hold out my fist, and the other three bump theirs against it—a promise to look out for each other.
Still, despite having some answers and a reason for why Link lashed out at me, my world is tipping off its axis. I can feel my feet sliding even though gravity is keeping me in place. Link is fighting an unknown disorder, and what if he’s lying about how bad it is too? What if it is cancer or something, and he’s got days to live, and I really am poisoning his experience with the band?
