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Landry ignored me as soon as he caught sight of Rowe, and he managed to summon a sultry smile from somewhere. “Well, well, well. Hello, gorgeous. Looks like Bash brought me a reward for keeping Zane alive while we were locked up.”
I snapped at him without thinking. “Take one step closer to him and it will be your last.”
Landry and Zane both looked at me like I had twelve heads and they were all wearing crocheted bonnets. Then Landry smirked.
“Ohhhh,” he singsonged. “You must be the guy who’s kept our group chat popping for the last couple days. Sterling Chase, isn’t it?”
Rowe glanced at me nervously, and I shot Landry a killing look that finally—temporarily—seemed to shut him up.
“Rowe Prince, this is Landry Davis,” I cut in smoothly. “And he’s cranky when he’s hungover, so ignore him. This is—”
“Hey, Rowe,” Zane said, stepping forward with a sweet smile. “I’m Zane.” Genuine kindness and authenticity radiated from him, drawing Rowe in like a tractor beam.
“Wow. It’s… really nice to meet you. Your music is phenomenal. I-I’m Rowe… wait, you said that already.” The familiar blush emerged on his cheeks, which made my jealousy roar back to life.
Those weremyblushes, damn it.
Landry’s smirk deepened, suggesting some part of my jealousy had shown on my face, which was the last thing I wanted.
“What the hell were you thinking, Landry?” I demanded, going on the offensive. “You wanna be a magnet for trouble, fine. But don’t rope Zane into your shit.”
Landry’s eyes narrowed, but Zane cut in before Landry could speak.
“That’s not what happened,” he said tiredly. “This isn’t Landry’s fault.”
“Like hell it’s not—” I began.
Zane looked furtively around the lobby. “Can we… not do this here?”
It seemed the media hadn’t caught wind of his release—at least, I couldn’t see anyone nearby who showed a particular interest in him—and I spared a moment of gratitude that his popularity was only just moving out of certain key demographics and more into the mainstream. There were still plenty of people in the world who had no idea what he looked like, even if they knew all the words to his song.
I lowered my voice. “Fine. Yes. Get in the car. We can talk about it on the drive back to the city.”
Zane shook his head. “Can’t. My people are waiting for me at the hotel here. I need a shower and a change of clothes.”
I wanted to strongly argue with him labeling the PR company “his people” since they didn’t seem to be looking out for him in the slightest, but this wasn’t the time. “Fine. We can talk there. Let’s go.”
The three of them followed me out like tired little ducklings, filing one by one into the town car until Landry and Zane were in the rear-facing row staring at Rowe and me.
“Champagne, anyone?” Landry said with a teasing grin as soon as I closed the door. “We can celebrate Zane’s first arrest in Pennsylvania. Huzzah.”
Zane elbowed him in the ribs and slumped down in the seat. “Shut it, Landry. I have a headache.”
I reached for a couple of bottles of water from the built-in cooler and handed them across. “Tell me what happened exactly.”
Landry ignored me, sucking down the cold water, while Zane proceeded to explain things mostly the way Kenji had laid them out. “It was stupid,” he said. “I see that now. But we didn’t damage anything on purpose. It was the others. They kept knocking things off the walls and screaming out the window. And it wasn’t Landry’s idea. He just went along with it.”
Landry looked affronted. “I didnotgo along. I don’t go along with things, Zane, and most definitely not a plan to spend an evening yukking it up at some no-tell motel in Philadelphia with a bunch of strangers. In fact, if you’ll recall, I strongly argued that if you needed to blow off steam—and who doesn’t, from time to time?—there were better ways and better people to do it with.” He examined his nails. “I also told you to hurry up and run when they announced that the cops had arrived, but you didn’t do that, either.” He rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb in Zane’s direction. “Our boy here’s hella slow.”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “Zane. You are on the cusp of having everything you ever dreamed of. You’re being booked into huge fucking venues all over the world. What happens if you’re stuck in a holding cell and can’t do one of those shows? Or if you have a court appearance on the same day a big media group wants you to do a photoshoot?”
Zane shook his head firmly. “That’s not gonna happen. Noelle said—”
“Fuck Noelle,” I hissed, trying not to shout in the small, enclosed space. “Was Noelle there when you did dangerous tree work in the Georgia summer heat to earn money for guitar lessons? Is Noelle the one who’s going to explain to your granny that you can’t be there for Hoppin’ John and cornbread on New Year’s because you were partying with drug users and making hotel messes she herself would have had to clean up back in the day? Huh? Tell me that, because I fucking knew you before this.” I gestured to Landry. “So did this asshole. We remember that kid who swore to fucking Christ he wouldn’t be that guy if he ever became famous!”
I felt Rowe’s soft fingers grip my biceps and turned my head. His face looked sympathetic, but his eyes urged caution. Landry, too, though he didn’t disagree with me, was raising an eyebrow at my delivery.
I rubbed my hands over my face and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I just…”
