“Yeah, that’ll go over like River at an NA meeting,” Xavier huffs.

“I should take offense to that,” River says, clearly not offended. “And I would if the last one I attended didn’t go so, so horribly wrong.”

“You know those T-shirt cannons they use at sporting events?” Xavier looks at me like I’m crazy, so I clarify. “I sent a message to a friend last night, and he’s building us a condom cannon—”

“Fucking genius.” Finn reaches out his fist for me to bump.

“We just need to get some condoms with this logo on it, and we’re golden. Every bitch in the world is gonna want Steel Total Destruction, the only STD that makes their panties as wet as the Jersey Shore.” I smirk, feeling proud.

“The one that makes them scream out in pleasure,” River adds while typing a note in his phone.

“The burn that doesn’t need medicated ointment.” Finn reaches out his fist again. This time he gets no bump.

“Nah, man.” Nick cringes. ”That’s just sick.”

Knowing Nick’s officially in, I smile to myself. Fucking perfect. Come on, X-man, I silently plead.

“If you fail, this is on you.” Xavier’s eyes narrow as they meet mine.

I shrug. “Ain’t gonna happen. You knew what we were when you handpicked us, so don’t start doubting us now.”

We all look up at the door when X’s wife Taelyn walks in, holding their baby. She looks up and pushes her long, auburn locks over her shoulder.

“Good morning!” She greets as she sways gently with the baby in her arms. Did I mention she’s hot? Yeah she is, and fucking smart, and I knew she would be on our side.

“Good morning, Taelyn.” River makes a beeline for her and the kid. “Hello, baby Patrick.”

Taelyn smiles. “He’s sleeping.”

“Perfect,” River says with a shit-eating smile. “Then may I hold him?”

“Taelyn,” Xavier growls, clearly annoyed.

“Xavier,” she mocks back at him, echoing his tone.

We all laugh except Xavier, of course.

“You sober?” she asks River. We all know that’s her deal with him. He’s sober, or its hands off the kid. As much as River adores older women, he adores kids even more.

I can’t help noticing the way River looks at her, like she’s the damn Mona Lisa. I expect him to bullshit her, but he doesn’t. He has mad respect for her.

He shakes his head, looking guilty, and shrugs. “Maybe next time.”

Taelyn gives him a sad look. “Okay.”

She goes over to Xavier and hands their son over. She kisses the baby’s cheek, then his.

“So, STD, huh?” After seeing the T-shirt, her eyes immediately go to me.

Xavier laughs at my shocked expression. “Seriously, Memphis, you’re like one of our kids.”

“Except for the fact that you would have been, like, two when you had him,” River interjects. “Hot, toddler loving.”

“You’d better watch it, drummer boy,” Xavier hisses while Taelyn nudges him with her elbow.

“I guess it could work.” She holds the shirt up to her chest, smirking. “If anyone can make a venereal disease sound cool, it’s the three of you.”

“Four,” I remind her. “Billy boy could rock an STD shirt like nobody’s business.”

“He could, right?” She laughs. “He’ll be back in a week, very excited.”

“Wait, about what?” I ask.

“You’re opening up for the Brody Hines band’s Burning Souls reunion show, you stupid shit.” Xavier speaks in a stern, yet soft I-don’t-want-to-wake-the-baby, voice.

River looks like someone just slapped him. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

“Nope.” Xavier smiles. “So, let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot, man.” I try to look calm, but shit. Fuck, fuckity, fucking shit!

“You ready to spread ‘your kind of rock’ around like an infectious disease?” The look on his face tells me everything I need to know—X is finally on board.

My laugh is evil and deep. “Hell yes, we are. Hell. Fucking. Yes.”

I feel tingly all over. What a fucking rush this business is. What a motherfucking rush.

I sit at the kitchen table with my head hung low, waiting for the shiz storm to commence. I know I have crossed some lines—well, not just crossed, more like pirouetted across, moonwalked across while flipping the double bird. Then, when no one was looking, I ran back like the dog I was, tail between my legs, in the middle of the night.

I used the proverbial line like a jump rope, hopping back and forth between who I am and who I never dreamed I could become. Never in a million years did I think I would be called to audition. Never in a billion years did I think I would have the guts to spend an entire day, while my parents thought I was on a trip to the city with Madison’s family, actually auditioning in front of the most talented and highest esteemed judges at The Julliard School of Performing Arts.

But I did. I crossed that line. I crossed it good. And now I have to pay the price.

After another fifteen minutes, my parents—also known as Pastor Theodore and Andrea Cruise—finally come out of my father’s office, and I don’t dare look up.

“Thou shalt not covet. Thou shalt honor your father and mother and remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.” My father’s fist strikes the table in front of me, and I jump. “You said dance was a hobby! You lied to your mother and me. And on a Sunday, Tally!”

“Theodore,” my mother scolds him weakly.

“Andrea, if you cannot stand beside me in this, then see your way into the next room.”

My mom and I both gasp at his retort. My father never speaks to her that way, ever.

As he looks at her, his face softens, but only for a moment. “Love is not always sweet, Andrea. This occasion calls for tough love.”

“We should at least hear her out.” My mom’s voice gets a little stronger as she dares to argue. His outburst must have made her mad. “She is nearly eighteen.”

I’m so ashamed, I want to hide underneath the table. I can’t believe I made them fight. I can practically hear the shredding of my acceptance letter already. My father has always believed the man rules the house while the wife keeps it pretty, and children are better seen than heard and always obedient. He’s a good man, of course, but he can be seriously judgmental.

“I never thought I would get in,” I whisper, looking down at my hands. “I just wanted to—I don’t know—try.”

“Try?” My father shakes his head, raising his voice again. “You’ve already applied to Stanford and NYU. You have already spent more than enough time and money trying—”

“But I haven’t been accepted yet.” I look up at him, wiping my tears away in frustration.

His eyes widen, like that fact doesn’t matter in the slightest. I can see his face getting redder, probably because his circulatory system is working overtime. He’s never had to deal with a daughter who talks back before. It can’t be good for his blood pressure.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he points to the stairway. “Go. Go now before I say something I cannot take back!”

I leave the little church parish kitchen as quickly as I can without running. Once I’m alone in my room, I grab the door to slam it, but then I don’t. I merely shut it gently and then dramatically throw myself on my bed where I cry, also dramatically.

When a sudden vibration in my pocket makes me jump, I pull out my phone, staring dejectedly at the screen. It’s Madison.

“Hey,” I whisper into the receiver.

“Hey,” she says just as quietly. “Why are we whispering?”

“Madison.” I sigh, sniffling. “I have a joy and a concern to share with you.”

“Wow. Okay, both in the same conversation? I don’t know if I can handle it.”

The sound of her laughter makes me want to cry all over again.

“It’s not funny, Mad. It’s not something to—”