Jesus, this is fucking endless. Now nearly everyone on the ground is shouting at the moron in the rafters, trying to explain that he just needs to stick something to the light, but he won’t. He’s convinced that something is loose.

Poor Gavin’s still trying to explain that the light fixture resonates at the exact same frequency as Trent’s guitar, and sticking something to it will change that, but he may as well be explaining calculus to a wombat.

I lean back in my chair and turn to Joan.

“Is there any reason we can’t go?” I ask.

She’s got her chin propped up on one fist, leaning on her drum kit.

“Is there?” she asks. “Would they even notice?”

“They might not,” I say. “I bet we could go grab a drink at the bar, come back in half an hour, and Gavin would still be here arguing.”

“That’s not what I’m bloody saying,” Gavin shouts. “Look, every piece of metal is going to be slightly different, okay? And...”

“Let’s do it,” Joan says, and whirls around on her stool. I lift the bass strap over my head and stand from my chair — sorry, my throne — and we’re just about to head off-stage when there’s a crash.

We stop. We look at each other.

There’s another crash, this one louder, and a tremor goes through the floor. Gavin turns and looks at us.

“The fuck was that?”

Joan and I are both looking around, but there’s nothing obvious, just a bunch of sound guys staring at us.

Was that Trent? He’s been on the phone for a while now...

“Where’s Trent?” Gavin asks, echoing my thoughts.

“I’ll go find him,” I say, and head off stage, a bad feeling deep in my gut.

It had to be Eli, calling from prison. Trent’s mom never calls him, he only calls her, and there’s no one else he’d interrupt sound check for.

And it’s not like his talks with Eli ever go well. The last time he threw a phone at the wall, so Christ only knows what that dumb, useless asshole has done to piss Trent off this time.

I round a corner. There’s another loud thump, and I think it’s coming from our dressing room. My stomach’s in knots, and when I reach the door, I don’t even hesitate.

Trent looks up at me from the floor, a flat, rock-hard expression on his face I’ve never seen before. He’s sitting against the overturned couch, his elbows on his knees. The table’s on its side and the floor lamp is overturned, the room half-dark.

“What happened?” I ask. My heart feels encased in stone because everything about this scene screams bad, very bad.

He doesn’t answer.

“Trent,” I say, and he finally looks up at me. Flat, no expression.

“Are you okay?” I ask, taking a step into the room, even though my senses all flood with danger.

This isn’t something I know, despite years of friendship. This is new and it seems ugly, feels fraught. Even his eyes seem dead, distant.

“Eli’s dead,” he finally says.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

I don’t know what to do, what to say. I don’t even know what face to make, but before I even know it I’m on the floor next to Trent, kneeling, and I grab him and pull him against me, holding his head to my chest. He doesn’t resist, just lets me, slowly wrapping his thick arms around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” I finally whisper, because I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to say that even though I know it’s fucking futile. I know Trent loved Eli, even if Eli was a fuckup and even if I don’t understand why, but he did.

He doesn’t respond. I pull him closer, and he lets me. After a minute Gavin and Joan show up at the door, take in the scene, look at me with questions.

“His brother died,” I say.

Joan gasps, her hands going to her mouth. Gavin’s mouth falls open, and they both freeze for a moment.

Then Gavin walks over and sits on the other side of Trent and puts his arm around him, and Joan sits next to me and takes Trent’s hand. I don’t think she knows the story, though Gavin does.

“Trent, I’m so sorry,” Joan says. “I can’t imagine.”

Thank God someone knows what to say.

“Thanks,” he whispers, the first thing he’s said since I came in.

The four of us just sit there. An hour passes, my spine twisted into a pretzel, but we don’t move.

And I think: at least we’ve got them.