“Hold on, let me look.” I hear him shuffling around through his things. “Is it Jay Thompson from Cartersville?”

My heart rate spikes. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Haven’t listened to this one. He a friend of yours?”

“Just an acquaintance. Can’t make any promises.”

“No problem. Come in when you can. Oh, and did Michael tell you the news about L.A.?”

Bile rises in my throat at the thought of my L.A. memories, but we’re only going there to make a record.

“Bloody brilliant news, mate,” I say.

I give the alcohol twenty minutes to burn off, then hop in my car.

It turns out one of Jay’s songs is incredible. Upon my urging, our manager gets on the phone to see about allowing permissions for a cover. When Jay says yes, my manager claps me on the back, probably thinking I’m grinning about discovering a new song, but all I can think is that when we cover it, Anna will be there to support him.

Bloody hell.

Now who’s playing with fire?

We learn Jay’s song in record time, excited to have new material for our next gig. When the night comes I down three shots of Jack to calm my nerves in the half hour preceding the show. The house is packed. When we take the stage I find Jay straightaway in the front row. He’s with that curly-headed bloke who wrote the songs with him. My heart feels like it’s slipped off a ledge. I look all around the dim room and cannot find her.

Why isn’t she here? Has something happened?

After the show I head backstage, knowing Jay will come. I’m immediately bombarded by fans, but I can’t focus on a single one of them. When Jay comes in I go straight for him. I try to be polite, because for once Jay is not smiling at me. I hold out a hand and he’s slow to take it. His aura is orange underneath, probably leftover excitement from the show, but it’s gray with his misgivings for me on top. I wonder how much Anna told him.

“Nice work on the song, mate,” I say. A bit of the gray fades.

“Thanks, man. You guys freaking rocked it. I mean, holy wow, dude!”

I grin. “So, uh . . . where’s Anna?”

The gray is back, full force, when he says, “She’s at home.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected her not to come. There’s a clenching and churning as I wonder if she’s over me already. “How is she?”

“Well, she’s been better, man.” The way he says it is a harsh jab to the ribs. All I can do is nod. And for the first time since I returned to Atlanta, I head home without a substance in my system or another body at my side. I’ve only bitter disappointment to keep me company.

I lose track of days and have lost all sense of time. I’m damned lucky our manager texts group updates when we have practices and gigs.

When a reminder about tonight’s gig sounds, I have to untangle my naked body from the silky sheets where I’ve been passed out hard. Someone rings when I’m in the shower. When I get out, toweling off my hair, I call my voice mail and freeze at Ginger’s words in the message. . . .

“Oy! Arse-face! We’re at your little girl Anna’s house. Ring me back straightaway.”

My pulse goes ballistic. What the hell are they doing at Anna’s house? The thought of her with the other Neph is like my two worlds colliding. I cannot imagine them together. What are they saying about me to Anna? Gin’s probably scaring the ever-loving shite out of her.

I ring her back, on edge. I don’t think Father bothers listening to my telephone conversations, but you never know. He’s right bloody upstairs. Granted, he’s gathering his things to leave for the weekend, but I won’t relax until he’s long gone.

“Is Pharzy home?” Ginger asks in a fake nice voice that raises the hair on my neck.

“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Drats. We’ll stay here for now, then.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.

I must come off sounding defensive, because she says, “Don’t worry. We haven’t tortured the poor girl. She’s the one trying to torture us with American iced tea.”

Damn it, Gin. She needs to be more careful what she says. Obviously she hasn’t taken to Anna or she wouldn’t talk about her at all knowing Father is home and could easily listen.

“Don’t think you can weasel out of seeing us,” she says when I don’t respond.

“I’m busy. I have a gig at a club called Double Doors.”

“When, tonight? Hold on.”

I hold my breath as Ginger and Anna converse and Anna refuses to agree to go with them. And then a deep voice rumbles through the phone.

“Come,” he says, and my blood slows. What is Kopano doing there? I would’ve thought he’d be too busy at Harvard to take a bloody break. Has he talked with Anna? I can’t help but wonder what she thinks of him.

“Please,” Marna pleads.

There’s a long pause and then Anna whispers, “Okay.”

I am buzzing when we hang up. I’d like to think Anna agreed to come because she likes Marna, and she wants to see me, not because Kope has seduced her with his smooth voice and good-boy charm. The very thought makes me want to rage.

I’m the one she loves, I remind myself. She’ll see me again tonight and remember that.

I dig through my dresser until I find the red T-shirt Anna wore home that night after she met my father. She was so bloody sexy in it.

At the sound of Father’s footsteps coming down the basement stairs, I drop the shirt and wipe any sentimental look from my face.

He barges into my room in a tan suit, looking around and sniffing the air before coming to me.

“I’m leaving for New York.”

“Enjoy yourself, sir.”

He nods. “I always do. What are your plans?”

“Gig tonight, then work the backstage crowd.”

“You’ve been busy lately.” He says it with an ounce of pride and takes my bare shoulder in his hand. Then he runs the back of his finger along the small patch of hair at my sternum. “We should have this lasered off. Doesn’t your generation prefer less body hair?”

“Yes, sir,” I tell him, though I definitely haven’t received any complaints.

He gives my bicep a squeeze, and his eyes slide down to my stomach, studying my body. “You could stand a bit of bulking up, as well. Abs could use more definition. Time to hit the gym harder, yeah? Make the girls resent those paunchy men of theirs.”

He laughs and pretends to punch me in the abs, so I play along, bending with an “oof,” and I laugh, as well. Gotta love quality father-son time.

I’m immensely relieved when he leaves.

Just like at the last show, I have to take three shots of Jack to calm my nerves. This time I know Anna will be here, and I’m in knots. Before we go onstage I bounce on the balls of my feet, shaking out my arms and loosening my neck. Raj looks at me like I’m crazy, because I’m usually leaned against the wall at this point, calm.

Thing is, I’ve been listening to Anna’s voice since she arrived at the club. Hearing her after several weeks has pumped me full of the angel voodoo that makes me go a bit insane. I even feel like smiling.

We take the stage and I look straight up, hungry for eye contact, but she’s not looking.

SHE’S NOT LOOKING.

I’m consumed by paranoia—is she over me so quickly? Has she fallen for another? Is she still mad at me? I shake my head at my own questions and grab my crotch to remind myself I’m a man. The goods are still there. I need to chill the hell out.

Her attention is on Jay as we start his song, and I force myself to focus on the drums. She’s being supportive of her best mate, ’cause that’s how she is. That’s all. I’m not going to look again.

During the brief guitar instrumental where I have to pause a measure, I totally look up again. This time she’s staring right at me. It’s as if the entire room goes silent and disappears. Her eyes are warm. It’s all still there between us.

Marna pulls her away just as it’s time for me to pick up in the song. I feel relieved enough to focus on the music now. Anna seems to be getting on well with the others. I lose myself in the next song, feeling a bit of enjoyment for the first time in weeks.