We were all set up in front of Summer’s DJ platform at the far end of the dance floor, ready to go. Jesse, Seth and me.

The crew was pretty slick getting us all hooked up, like a bunch of rock ’n’ roll ninjas. Jesse and Seth had guitars and I had a mic stand, and the three of us were all seated in a row like gentlemen; not my usual way to perform.

The last time I’d performed a song sitting down was at Jesse’s wedding.

Summer was playing The Miracles’ “Shop Around,” not a remix, just the regular old Motown classic, and she had all the old people dancing. Brody was dancing with grandma Dolly—carefully; that woman was getting old. Elle’s parents were dancing. Matt was dancing with Dylan’s mom, Katie was dancing with Seth’s foster father, and Piper, of all people, was dancing with Katie’s mom while Katie’s dad danced with Jessa.

It was kinda nice seeing everyone cut loose… and all the people Dylan cared about so much under one roof.

Jesse poked me and pointed out Amber, who was dancing with Shady—or at least, trying to dance with Shady. The man couldn’t dance for shit, but she was doing her best to keep him shuffling his feet around while not breaking her toes.

She looked pretty in her pale yellow dress with a flower in her hair, her pointy little eyeteeth flashing as she laughed.

I smiled a little.

Was good to see her happy. It didn’t make me unhappy like I thought it might. And I wasn’t all that nervous about seeing her anymore.

I wasn’t nervous about the song, either. It was a pretty vocally-intense and emotional song, sure. But for some fucked-up reason, I was actually a little nervous about singing in front of Dylan.

I just had to breathe and maybe forget he was in the room.

As soon as “Shop Around” was done, Summer would introduce us—but it felt like the longest song in history right now. She might as well have put on “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” and called it a night. I was sweating a little, and it had nothing to do with the heat in the room.

It wasn’t hot.

The doors along the balcony were wide open, and I could feel the fresh air.

Just had to breathe…

And remind myself that this thing was gonna be beautiful.

Was definitely gonna get Zane laid tonight.

Luckily, Maggie hadn’t noticed us sitting here. The full dance floor helped. Plus, Zane was doing a good job keeping her distracted at the other end of the ballroom. As soon as “Shop Around” started playing, that was his cue to redirect her.

I’d seen them circling the dessert table; pretty sure he had her dipping into the chocolate fountain right about now.

Then “Shop Around” finally came to an end. I didn’t even have to look at Jesse or Seth. They sat on either side of me, and I could feel them shifting in their seats, getting ready.

We’d rehearsed to perfection. I didn’t need a cheat sheet for the lyrics or anything. The lyrics were pretty simple. Zane had chosen the song; it wasn’t a new song, but it was new to me, and I’d made sure to commit it to heart this week.

“Zane? Oh, Zaaaaane,” Summer purred over her mic. “Where’s that beautiful wife of yours? Bring her on out to the dance floor, would ya?”

Everyone started looking around for Zane and Maggie, and the crowd parted as they made their way onto the dance floor. Zane in the lead, drawing Maggie along by her hand.

“And the rest of you lovely people,” Summer called out. “Can you clear the dance floor for this gorgeous couple?”

Everyone did as instructed, and the crowd got pretty thick all around the dance floor, everyone gathering to watch as Zane steered Maggie right into the middle of the floor, under the mirrored ball.

She’d seen us by now.

A smile lit up her face, and when she looked at her man, he pulled her close.

“I’d like to welcome some dear friends of Zane and Maggie to the floor,” Summer said. “This is Ashley, Jesse and Seth, and they’re going to play a song for Maggie right now that Zane chose for her.”

There was some applause and some happy shouting and whistling, and when everyone finally died down, Jesse started the song, leading on guitar. Seth joined in… and then I started to sing.

The song was “You’re My Star,” the acoustic version, by Stereophonics, and if you asked me we did a pretty killer cover of it. Judging from the tears I could see running down Maggie’s cheeks by the time I got the first line out of my mouth, I’d put money on it.

According to Zane, the song was important to Maggie somehow.

Seemed that was true.

Eventually, the two of them started dancing slowly in the middle of the floor, wrapped tight around each other. I got kinda lost in the song myself, but somewhere well before the end I noticed they’d stopped dancing to just stand there again and listen, watching us play.

When the song ended, Maggie pulled Zane right on over to us, and before I was even on my feet she’d launched herself into my arms.

“Ash! That was so beautiful,” she sobbed, and yeah, she was definitely crying like a baby. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats, Maggie.”

“Thank you.”

She finally let me go to hug the other guys, and Zane pulled me in for a hug. I already knew he was grateful; I knew he would’ve liked to serenade Maggie himself, but this night wasn’t about him taking the stage. I was honored he’d asked me to step in, and he’d already thanked me about a thousand times. Now, he patted me on the back and told me, “You have no idea, man.”

“Anytime.”

When we drew apart and he moved on to thank the other guys, Amber was standing there. Teary-eyed, she gave me a hug. “That was amazing.” She kissed my cheek, her soft, caramel hair brushing my face. Then she looked me in the eye and told me, sincerely, “I miss you.”

“Thanks, Amber,” I said. It was all I could really say.

Dylan was next, pulling me in for a tight hug. “That was great, man.”

“Thanks.”

After that, there was a bit of a lineup of people wanting to shake my hand. Eventually, I managed to work my way off the dance floor and visit with a few more people who pulled me aside.

Elle was one of them.

“You look great,” I told her. It was the first time I’d spoken to her all night. I’d been busy enough; the party was pretty full of people to talk to, and besides that, I still wasn’t all that comfortable hanging with her. Wasn’t sure why, but it still felt weird to me that she had Seth’s baby in her belly so damn fast after we fell apart.

Not that we were ever really together, according to her.

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing her hand over her giant belly. “The song was just beautiful. Thank you for doing that with the guys. I know it means a lot to Zane and Maggie.”

“No worries.”

“So… My feet hurt and my hips ache all the time, but other than that, I feel pretty good,” she volunteered, when I didn’t ask how she was doing. “We’re hoping the baby decides to make an appearance soon.”

“Cool,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say.

I’d already heard, from Dylan, that no matter when the baby came, Paulie was joining Dirty for the first few weeks of the European tour, filling in for Seth so he could spend some time at home with Elle and the baby. After that… maybe he’d rejoin the tour and leave Elle and the baby here for a while, or maybe she’d bring the baby on the road. I didn’t know. Didn’t really care to know.

I kissed her forehead. “Take care, okay? Let me know when the baby comes. I’ll swing by.”

“Of course,” she said.

After that, I circled back to Summer, bringing her a non-alcoholic blender drink from the bar. I hopped up onto her platform and let her congratulate me on my performance. She’d already heard me practicing the song earlier in the week, and I knew she approved.

“You sounded great,” she told me, kissing my cheek. “Not a dry eye in the house, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Fuck, that felt good.”

“It should. You killed it.”

It really did feel good. Was the first time I’d played in front of any kind of audience in way too long.

Fucking missed it.

Plus, Jesse Mayes and Seth Brothers were pretty kick-ass backup.

Unfortunately, my band, the Penny Pushers, were officially done. But no one really knew that yet. Our management company knew. Summer knew and Dylan knew. We’d announced on all our social media shit that we were on hiatus. And that was about it. Rumors were flying around left and right, but we hadn’t officially cut ties.

We’d be doing it soon.

No use kicking a dead horse.

It was all for the best, anyway. In a way, it would be freeing, right?

Painful, but freeing.

Like a breakup from someone who was a great person, someone you’d come to love and you’d gotten really fucking used to having around… but was just wrong for you.

I gave Summer a kiss on the temple and a squeeze and left her at her deck to continue on my rounds. I could see Dylan and Amber together across the room, and Elle with Seth.

And when I saw them all like that, from enough of a distance… looking exactly how they were supposed to be… I knew it was finally time for me to let go.

It was time to move on.

Fact was, I really wasn’t sure where the fuck I belonged anymore, but it wasn’t with any of them.

* * *

Later, I headed out to the balcony. It was well after midnight and the party was dwindling. Most of the older guests and the ones with babysitters at home had already taken off.

Without booze to keep the party going, the remaining guests were discussing afterparty options as they gathered by the doors.

But I wasn’t feeling much like partying tonight.

Dylan and Amber already had their coats on when I’d said goodnight to them. Most of Dirty seemed ready to head out, but I was waiting for Summer; told her I’d hang with her after. She was playing Three Dog Night, “Mama Told Me (Not to Come),” her final song of the night, and the lights were up in the ballroom as everyone said their goodbyes.

But it was dark out on the balcony, and empty except for me. I was smoking down at the far end when someone came up behind me.

Half of me hoped it was Dylan… and half of me didn’t.

“Hey, brother.”

I looked up to find Zane watching me. He was alone.

I mashed my joint out on the stone wall and flicked what was left in a pot of flowers. “Sorry. Dry wedding party, and I’m the asshole smoking up.”

“No worries.” He came over and stood next to me, looking me over. He had a pink drink with berries floating in it in his hand. “You good?”

I considered how to answer that. How many people had asked me that in the last six months? How many times had I said yes?

And how tired was I of saying yes to make them feel better?

Fucking tired.

“I’m not,” I answered honestly. “But I will be.”

“Soon?”

“Not sure.”

He leaned on the low stone wall next to me as we both looked out over the city below. “Few people coming back to our place. You coming?”

Our place. That would be his house in West Vancouver, the one he bought last year, which Maggie had just moved into. I’d definitely enjoyed my share of parties in that house already.

But Dylan and Amber would probably be there, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.

“Think I’ll pass this time.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

We both fell silent. I fished out my cigarettes; I doubted people were supposed to smoke out here at all, but fuck it.

I thought Zane might leave as I lit up, but he didn’t. I offered him one but he passed, sipping his non-alcoholic drink instead.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “You fuck Dylan or what?”

I laughed, a little, because it was typical shit for Zane to say. The dude seriously lacked a filter.

I could relate.

But he was probably also trying to crack the palpable tension.

“Does it matter?”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m just perversely curious like that.”

“I never fucked Dylan. Wasn’t like that.”

“He fuck you?”

I shook my head. “Not his type. His type’s in there, with the flower in her hair.”

“You guys still cool?”

“Kind of.” We really were.

Thing was, we were a little too cool.

Dylan was happy. He wanted me to be happy. I wasn’t happy. We were still best friends, and I hoped that would never change. But something was different. It was the pity he felt for me, maybe. Or the pity I imagined he felt.

Or maybe it was just the broken heart I kept dragging around that made things so unclear.

Hard to see things clearly, maybe, when you were wasted more than you were sober and too busy bouncing in and out of beds to ponder shit like feelings.

“You think Amber’s worth it?” Zane asked after a moment. “Cute girl. She seems good for Dylan. But is she worth this?” He looked me over again, assessing me with his cool blue eyes.

I shrugged. “Amber’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

“Nothing,” I said, which was pretty much bullshit. But whatever. If I knew what my problem was, I’d fix it, right? “Actually… I’ve been thinking. I think it’s time for my breakup party.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I kinda had my heart smashed in a major way. And I know what you’re thinking. What else is new? But this was a big one. You know, double whammy.”

Zane just nodded. He didn’t ask for clarification on that, and I had no idea if he knew I was talking about Dylan and Amber both breaking my heart or what.

Though if we wanted to get technical about it, it was kind of a triple whammy. Because Elle hadn’t left my heart so intact, and I’d never had a breakup party to put that one to bed either.

“So,” I asked him, “you ready for that shit?”

Because no doubt, Zane would have to host this thing. It was pretty much tradition.

Ever since my breakup party after my relationship with Summer ended… the best breakup party ever… the one that started at Zane’s place in L.A. and ended with me at a ski resort in Alaska, partying with a bunch of members of a traveling freak show, crashing a bachelorette party, snowboarding naked and getting tattooed… he definitely had to host it.

“Bitch, please,” he said with a smirk. “I’m always ready for that shit.”

“Yeah? Think you can handle it? You know, now that you’re all married…?”

He threw me a dry-as-fuck look. “Pretty sure I can come up with something.”

“I don’t even care if it’s dry or whatever,” I said, seriously. “You know, it’s not about getting laid or getting wasted. I can do that any day of the week. It’s about hitting the reset button.”

“I get it. Not sure how I’ll top jetting you off to Alaska…” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You still got that tattoo?”

“Actually, it fell off while I was asleep one night. The fuck do you think?”

“Dunno. Laser removal or some shit?”

I shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

“Dude. I saw it.”

I sighed. Yeah; a lot of people saw it. For a while there, I’d gotten into the habit of showing it off when I was good and drunk. The girly pink flower tattoo with the words Danny 4Ever, right up under my balls. And since it was right up there, a lot of people had seen other stuff, too. Like my ball sac.

“You ever gonna tell me who Danny is?” he inquired, not for the first time.

“Don’t know.”

He sipped his drink, considering. “And why the pink flower?”

“I seriously don’t know.”

“Do I get to pick the tattoo this time? I’ll get you something real nice.” He flashed me a diabolical smile, and I laughed.

“No more tattoos unless I’m stone cold sober. You can take that to the bank.”

“Alright, brother.” Zane punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Give me a few days to throw something together. I fly out to Europe next week. We’ll do it before then.”

A grin spread across my face, and it felt like a long time since I’d smiled this big. Or looked so forward to… well, anything. “Looking forward to it.”

“Cool. Do I need a guest list?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, am I supposed to invite Summer to this thing? Dylan?”

Right. Good questions…

“Summer, yes,” I told him. “Dylan and Amber… no.”

“Got it.”

“And, uh… no Elle. But I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be busy anyway.”

“Right.”

I pushed off the wall and we did a man-hug, back-slap, high-five thing.

“You know,” he said, just as we were about to walk back into the ballroom together, “you’ve got big balls, Ashley Player.”

I paused. “How the fuck do you figure that?”

Zane stopped and gave me an affectionate little shove. “Come on. Not many people could pull off what you just did in there, in front of all those people, with shit the way it is… You know, your double whammy?”

“Right.”

“You should’ve heard yourself, man. You made my grandma cry. Chicks were creaming… I got a little hard myself.”

I grinned. “It’s a talent.”

“Seriously. You got a new Pushers album coming or what?”

I took a breath. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No Pushers album.”

And fuck.

I felt the weight of those words. The loss of my band brothers… and all the years, all the blood, sweat and fucking tears we’d put into something that in the end really hadn’t taken us very far. Alone, we were probably all more talented than we’d been as a band, and that was the hard truth I’d had to swallow this last year as we fell the fuck apart.

Zane gave me a thoughtful look. And I knew, when he didn’t exactly start crying over the news, he was thinking something along the same lines.

“But I’m pretty fucking sure you haven’t heard the last of me yet,” I assured him.

“Thank fuck.” He clapped me on the shoulder and looked me in the eye. “Telling you. I can live without the Penny Pushers. What the world needs is more Ashley Player.”

And I hoped to hell he was right.

* * *