"Hey, are you guys Cherry Lips?" one of the event staff asked as he poked his head into the artist lounge.

“That’s us,” Liam and I said at the same time.

I flicked my eyes to Liam. He was staring back. I took in his messy hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the firm set of his clenched jaw.

I turned my head away.

Liam looked as terrible as I felt.

Good. He should feel miserable. He’d brought it all on himself.

Our fight felt like it had taken place months ago, and yet it had only been days. We couldn’t put the tour on hold just because the lead singer and guitarist had a tiff. We had to pile into the rented van and sit in silence as we drove to the latest concert. Luckily, this one was only in the next town over, barely a thirty minute drive.

I made sure to beat the others to shotgun. I couldn’t stomach the thought of being stuck in the back with Liam again. It was hard enough to keep the tears at bay when I was alone. Being next to Liam only made it a hundred times worse.

"Some local blogger dude says he's here for an interview,” the event guy continued. “Wants to talk to you before you get on stage."

All the guys in my band groaned. We'd done a dozen or more of these already, and it was turning into a chore. They always asked the same questions and we always answered in the same way.

"Can't he just rip off the answers from one of those other blogs?" Gael said, only half-joking.

"It's good publicity," I said. "We want people reading about us. Talking about us. The more of these interviews we do, the better."

Gael grumbled, but settled down into the sofa.

My brother had been oddly quiet until now. He kept shooting me careful looks. We hadn’t had a chance to talk in private, and I knew he was wondering how I was holding up.

Morris and I weren’t the only ones who had been keeping track of the days.

“So can I show him in?” the man asked.

I nodded and he disappeared.

A young guy with a haircut that looked like he'd time traveled from the seventies poked his head through the door.

"Red hair,” the guy grinned at me. “Awesome. You're the people I'm looking for."

He walked in and set up a tripod with his phone connected to it. He pointed it at us then took a seat perched on one of the armchairs, not bothering to shake hands or introduce himself.

"I almost interviewed the wrong band,” he said. “Those guys opening for you are terribly dull, aren't they?" He turned to me. "So what's with the hair?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The hair." The blogger pointed at my head. "What's with that color?"

"I like red," I said, nonplussed.

"Yeah, but, isn't it sort of tacky to color your hair cherry red, when your name means cherry and your band is Cherry Lips?"

"Tacky?" I repeated, insulted.

But the guy had already turned his attention to Gael. "Rumor is, you're pussy-whipped now. How's that going for you?"

Nathan made a sort of half-snort, half-snicker sound.

"I'm not pussy-whipped, fuck you very much," Gael snapped. "I'm nailing a hot as fuck chick every night, can you say the same?"

Seth whistled long and low.

"Jessie's gonna kill him," he leaned over and murmured under his breath to Julian.

That got the blogger's attention.

"So Seth, how does it feel to be the runt of the group?" he asked.

Seth's eyes went wide, astounded, before narrowing dangerously. His lips pressed into a harsh line.

"We're not going to sit here and take this bullshit," Liam spoke up firmly. "You need to leave now."

The blogger sized him up and nodded. "Right, you're Liam Knight. Your old band never made it anywhere so now you're just a session guitarist. You ever think about going back to being a real musician, or are you okay with being a has-been?"

Liam’s fist clenched and shook. I had no doubt he was five seconds away from punching the guy in the face.

The blogger turned his attention back to me.

“Cerise, I heard you and the drummer from Feral Silence used to be in a band together but you broke up. What happened all those years ago? If you had stayed together, do you think you’d actually be a world famous band by now instead of just small time act?”

Gael flew from his chair, glaring at the guy.

My throat closed up, all air leaving my lungs.

I’d been trying not to think about it. Trying not to remember.

But of course, today of all days, someone had to bring it up.

Today, on the anniversary of Harper’s death.

I inhaled sharply through my nose and steeled myself.

"If you don't have any real questions to ask, you can get the hell out right now," I said.

“If you guys don’t want to answer the questions your fans are asking…” he shrugged blithely.

“No one’s asking those questions,” Gael growled.

The guy popped up from his seat. “Fine, then.” He began to put his tripod away. “I’ll go interview that boring opening band of yours. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to say.”

The guy strode out the door, leaving the band to stare at one another.

“What the fuck was that?” Julian asked, so shaken he’d actually joined the conversation for once.

“A fucking asshole, that's what,” Seth bit out.

Seth had always been sensitive about being the youngest. For a while he hadn’t even been able to legally drink at the clubs we’d played at. Maybe it was time we stopped treating Seth like our kid brother. I didn’t want him to develop some sort of complex about it.

My band had more than enough emotional baggage between us already.

I exhaled deeply. My palms were stinging; I’d dug my nails into the flesh again. I forced my clenched fists to relax.

“He was probably from one of those trash magazines,” Nathan said. “Just forget about him.”

“What if he prints some of that garbage?” Gael asked.

“He can print whatever he likes,” Nathan replied. “Our fans won’t care and they’re the only ones who matter.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gael said. “He didn’t call you out on anything.”

“What could he possibly call me out on?” Nathan said easily. “That I’m a slut? Guilty as charged. Can’t bash someone who’s an open book. Our new guy on the other hand…” Nathan quirked an eyebrow at Liam. “You okay over there?”

I glanced over. Liam’s expression was pained.

“Are you going to go on some kind of rampage against the guy?” Nathan asked. “Cause I can find out who he is for you, if you want.”

“No. It’s fine.” Liam shot me a quick look before flicking his gaze back to Nathan. “He’s just stirring shit.”

“Did he want to shake us before our performance?” Seth wondered out loud. “Maybe he wanted to get into our heads before we went on stage.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said tightly. “We’re going to go out there and fucking rock. All right?”

I looked at each of my guys in turn. My brother, Nate, Seth and Julian all nodded. I looked at Liam last. His face was set with determination. I knew he was recalling the has-been comment.

“We’re going to show them,” Liam said. “We’re going to show them what Cherry Lips can do.”

I nodded.

Forget my fight with Liam. Forget my grief for Harper. I had to put those feelings away for now.

This concert, this performance, was all that mattered.