The moment Xander arrived, Justin braced himself for another staring contest. What he got instead was a meeting with someone who might as well have been a stranger. It was as if Xander had fallen asleep one night and woken up a star. His square jaw sported the perfect amount of stubble and he wore his dark blonde hair—unironically—in a messy half-ponytail, half-man-bun. He looked…expensively rumpled, if that was such a thing.

The annoying thing was, it all worked so well that it was borderline stereotypical. Xander’s mug was the dictionary definition of Indie Rock Star.

There was the briefest hesitation on Xander’s part as he walked into the room—the only reason Justin even noticed was because he was watching for it. Justin wished Xander could see the clean and sober kid standing before him, reluctant but ready to risk it all on his last chance. Unfortunately, he knew Xander too well to not know what wheels turned behind those hazel green eyes. No matter what Justin did now there was no way Xander would forget the betrayal of his ex-best friend. All Xander would ever see in Justin was a load of lies in ripped jeans.

And then the hesitation passed.

“So let’s talk about the set list.” Xander motioned for Justin to sit back down. Justin obeyed, grateful to skip the traditional greeting with its awkward handshakes and false expressions of gratitude. “Your uncle and I hashed things out a little—we want to make sure the focus stays on Trish and Andy.”

Ever the poetic assassin, Xander cut quick and deep with his subtle word choices. Instead of calling Donny by name, he’d referred to him as Justin’s uncle, reminding Justin exactly why he was there. Reinforcing that he and Donny had “hashed it out” put Justin firmly in his place outside the inner circle. Namedropping the bride and groom as if they were old pals was merely icing on the wedding cake.

Justin would have bet his last two bucks that Xander had never met the happy couple before today.

“…that said, if we didn’t play any 10mm Conspiracy songs, folks might be disappointed.”

“They would be, kid,” said Donny. “Trust me on that one.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve been on a stage together,” Xander said to Justin without looking at him.

“Not that long,” said Justin.

Xander ignored him. “I don’t want to play any songs you’re completely unfamiliar with.”

Justin smirked a little at that. 10mm Conspiracy’s regular bassist, Hedge, had a style that was pretty inside-the-box, with few flairs. His job—and Liam’s—boiled down to playing a beat that Xander could guitar his little heart out to like the big show off he was.

“Don’t worry,” Justin said. “I can keep up.”

“It might be good to offset the bigger stuff with a few low-key acoustic songs,” said Donny.

“I’ll handle those,” said Xander.

“And, as much as I hate to say it, you might even want to try some classic beach numbers,” Donny suggested. “Seeing as we are at the beach.”

“Beach music? Seriously, Donny? You’re breaking my heart.” Xander laughed as if Justin wasn’t even in the room.

Donny held up his hands. “A little Van Morrison won’t kill you. But no electric slide. I draw the line there.”

“Thank god,” said Xander. “And you’ll come up to do a few Z-Train songs, right?”

“One,” said Donny. Xander stared at him. “Okay, two. But only in the second set, after I’m properly fed and watered. This is play time for me, not work. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Xander said with a smile. “You okay with that, Justin?”

“Sure,” said Justin, not that he’d made any contribution to the conversation whatsoever.

“Fantastic.” Donny stood up and clapped Xander on the back. “Thanks, kid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a gorgeous wife to annoy into getting ready before midnight. I’ll leave you two to finish up with your soundcheck.”

“See you, Donny,” Xander called after him.

Justin grunted noncommittally.

The heels of Donny’s boots clacked over the threshold, the heavy door clicked shut, and a cloud went over the sun. That storm Justin had prayed for had arrived—he could see it all over Xander’s face.

“Finally,” said Justin. “There’s the guy I know. Hello, Alexander.”

Anger seethed beneath Xander’s tan skin. His cheeks flushed, but he remained eerily calm. “Did you expect an ass-kicking too?”

“Naturally,” said Justin. “A few nice bruises. Maybe a broken bone or two. Ribs, maybe? I’d say go for the nose, but you need your hand to play.” He added a curl of his lip to that last bit, goading Xander on. Even after all these years, Justin still knew what buttons to push. If he did this right, perhaps this great idea of Donny’s would crash and burn before it ever got off the ground.

Xander didn’t rise to the occasion. Justin’s ex-best friend shook his head ever so slightly. “There is little I’d love more than smashing in that pretty face. But you’ve perfected playing the victim, Justin, and I refuse to be the one to put you in that position.”

“Thank you,” said Justin. He might have even meant it.

“Save your gratitude,” said Xander. “You’ll need it when you’re crawling back to your uncle after failing this little experiment.”

“Believe it or not,” said Justin, “I don’t actually want to fail.” Those words he did mean.

“Oh, but I want you to,” said Xander, “and the sooner the better. Then I can get back to living my life and you can get back to wasting yours.”

Justin knew that the only way to get any of Xander’s respect or friendship again would be to earn it, however difficult that might be. “I’m going to try my best to disappoint you.”

“You always do.”

Justin was used to playing all the angles of a situation to his advantage. He might not be able to get Xander to see him as a friend in the next five minutes, but perhaps he could convince him that they had a common enemy. “Look, Xan. We used to be friends—”

“Used to,” said Xander.

“I wasn’t expecting you to welcome me with open arms. Hell, I wasn’t expecting any of this. How long have you known about Donny’s plan?”

“Not long,” said Xander. “Three days.”

Wow, it was almost like they were having a real conversation. “What did he offer you?” asked Justin.

Xander stared at him. “Does it matter?”

It didn’t, in the grand scheme of things. “Donny says ‘jump’ and we ask how high,” said Justin. That was always the way…the one rule a younger, short-tempered Justin had rebelled against the most.

“Yeah,” said Xander.

“I haven’t even had three hours to process all this.”

“Didn’t give you time to say no, did he?”

“Donny says this is my last shot.”

“So do I,” said Xander. “Not that you deserve it.”

“I know I don’t. But he’s giving me one last chance. Won’t you?”

Xander opened his mouth as if to answer sympathetically, but then he balled his hands into fists and stood instead. Any chance Justin had of a rational Xander left with that movement. Justin was forced to stand as well, so that Xander’s higher ground was…a little less high.

“Only because I have no choice,” said Xander. “I will put up with you for as long as I have to until you fail. Because you will fail. But until that happens, I am your babysitter. Your parental guidance.”

“My liege.” Justin bowed dramatically.

“Laugh it up, serf. I am King Xander, and these are my rules. You will play the songs you are asked to play, no more and no less. You will only use equipment that belongs to you or that I say you can use. If I find out that you are drunk or high—if anyone even accuses you of being drunk or high—then I am leaving you on the side of the road for Donny’s goons to collect.”

“Is that all?”

“You will be kind to my band if you speak to them at all, which I really prefer you didn’t. No playing mind games. No messing around with groupies. No picking up random drunk chicks in black corsets and ripped fishnets.” Xander was so close now that Justin could feel his breath, but Justin did not back away. “And if you so much as lay a hand on Kara, I will kill you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Xander stood nose-to-nose with him for one second longer before stepping away, having put the cap back on his bottle of furious anger. “Good. Then let’s get this soundcheck over with, shall we?”