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“I can’t believe this!” Nash stormed after Dev and caught his arm at the top of the stairs. “If you perform with anybody, it should be me.”
Dev raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean with Persistence of Vision?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Dude,” Owen said. “Seriously?”
Nash glared down at Haru. “And you. If you perform with him, I’ll… I’ll sue. You have a contract.”
“Actually,” Haru said, “I don’t. I’m just the replacement, remember? You pay me like a session musician.”
“Dude. Seriously? What the hell?” Owen punched Nash in the biceps. “Harry’s been part of the band since… since… well, since Dev.”
Haru’s smile was crooked. “That’s where you’re wrong, Owen. I was never part of the band. I was just there to stand in for Dev until Nash finished sulking and made a play to get him back.”
“I don’t sulk,” Nash said.
Casey lifted both eyebrows. “Really? That’s what you took away from that statement?”
Haru’s smile turned more genuine as he faced Casey. “Guess that’s because he can’t say any of the rest of it was false.”
“Or else,” Casey said, “he’s just a self-centered jerkface who can’t believe everything’s not about him. Trust me. I know the type.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nash snarled. “You’re nothing. Both of you. You”—he jabbed his finger at Haru—“can forget about POV because you’ll never play with us again. And you?” He crossed his arms and smirked down at Casey. “Dev will drop you in a heartbeat now that I’m back.”
“Funny thing about that,” Owen said, brow wrinkled in thought. “You’re back. But Dev didn’t drop Casey. Also, how are we gonna play our gig tonight without Harry? I mean, Haru.”
Nash shot him an irritated glance. “Dev will step in, of course.”
“No, I won’t.” Dev shook off Nash’s grip and stepped down onto the first stair tread. “And if you don’t stop being such an entitled dickwad, I’ll take back the rights to the POV songs. You won’t have anything to play.”
Nash gaped at him. “You… You can’t. They’re our songs.”
“No, they’re not. I wrote them for the band, yes, but I wrote them. Not you. They’re copyrighted under my name, but I never insisted on rights or royalties because I considered that I owed it to Owen and Eli not to fuck up their careers. POV is not only you. And it wasn’t only me, either. But threaten Haru, threaten to walk on this gig when POV is the headliner, and I’ll take ’em back in a hot minute. Your choice.” He strode down the stairs, stopping on the landing to give Casey a kiss. He grinned at Haru. “Ready to do this?”
Haru nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Hey, guys?” Owen leaned over the banister, a hopeful grin on his round face. “Need a drummer?”
Dev laughed. “Not this time. But we’ll talk.”
He and Haru descended the rest of the stairs and walked out the door. As they crunched down the driveway toward West Road and the path the performers took to the rear of the stage, Dev cast a sidelong glance at Haru.
“You okay?”
Haru took a moment, gazing up at the trees overhanging the road; at Madame Ivanova’s empty house and studio, set back among a stand of maples, its green shutters barred; at the glint of water in the millpond behind Kenny’s place.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If Dev had to peg his expression, he’d call it… peaceful. Contented. Dev should recognize the look by now—he’d seen it in the mirror every day since that picnic at the quarry.
Dev grinned. “Then what do you say we rock and roll?”
Haru grinned back. “You’re on.”
“This is your fault.” Nash stalked down the stair toward Casey while Owen watched, wide-eyed, from the balcony. “You staged this whole thing just to humiliate me. You and that… that fucking furball.”
Casey backed against the landing wall, clutching Randolph Scott to his chest as a low growl rumbled in the cat’s throat.
