"Well," Jules said, exhaling a long, deep breath. "That wasn't...terrible."

My head was still reeling from the applause. "Where the fuck did all these people come from?" I wondered again for probably the billionth time in the last five minutes. We had only played a twenty-minute set. It was all I was ready to deal with, but the people who showed up, the ones packed in shoulder to shoulder and shouting along the words to our songs so loudly that I could barely hear my own voice, were still out there, clamoring for an encore we weren’t ready to give.

"You all right mate?" Jules asked, clapping me on the back. "You look a bit pale there."

"Fuck," I exhaled. "That was..."

"Surreal," Niall supplied for me. "Must have been strange being the one up front, yeah?"

I realized my fists were still balled at my sides and slowly unclenched them, shaking the feeling back into my fingers. "Yeah," I barked out in a trembling breath. I ran my hand along the back of my neck, trying to rub out some of the tension there. "I never wanted to be a frontman for good reason, I think," I finally managed to laugh. "I'm pretty shit at it."

Jules shrugged. "Those fuckers out there?" he pointed back in the direction of the packed club. "They didn't give a shit. Too busy singing your words for you."

"Where the fuck did all these people come from?" I repeated.

The knock on the green room door made me jump. Jules shot me a threatening look. "Sit down and have a beer before you give me a heart attack, mate. I can hear your teeth grinding from way over here."

"Never thought you'd get stage fright, Boyd." Niall looked genuinely concerned.

I rubbed my neck again and tried to look composed, but there was no hiding how rattled I was. The only reason I'd done the singing tonight is because I was the only one of the three of us who didn't sound like a cat in heat when he tried to do vocals. But up there, fuck, it was so much more than just making mouth sounds. Feeling every eye in the place focus on you.

I wasn't used to that.

Playing live shows was my passion. I loved getting lost in the music, feeling that special frisson in the air when you and your bandmates were in sync. The hair stood up on the back of your neck because you're not just by yourself anymore. You're connected, one organism made up of many different bodies. It's fucking magic.

But when I stepped up and tried to sing, my mind took over. I was all in my head, worrying about how I looked, how I was playing. There was no more magic, just one long excruciating four-minute block. Four minutes of torture.

"Oi," I grunted to Jules and Niall. "I know I agreed we're gonna make another go of it, yeah?"

"You backing out?" Jules wondered. The knock on the green room door came again. "Wait a bloody minute!" he shouted, then looked at me. "Spit it out, Ewan. You look green around the gills."

"I'm not a bloody singer," I suddenly thundered. "Never wanted it. We start over again, we need a new front man. Or woman. Whatever. But it can't be me, okay?"

Jules looked at Niall. Niall ducked his head and I felt something pass between them. "What?" I demanded.

Niall shrugged. "Fine with us, mate."

"You were kinda shite, anyway," Jules laughed, and then opened the door before I could deck him. "Oi, where's the bloody fire?" he yelled at the hapless person on the other side of the door.

"Mr. Spencer?" came a female voice. "I've got two women here that wanted to talk with you. One from Anthem Records?"

I looked at Jules and Niall, wide-eyed. We were all thinking the same thing. Anthem was a boutique hard rock label, an imprint under the much bigger Silvergate Recordings. They were a way bigger deal than Crux, and their CEO Ricky Silver had a reputation for being much more interested in the development of his acts.

This was a big fucking deal.

"Yeah sure," Jules grunted nonchalantly. "Send her back."

I stood back up again and started pacing. Meeting with a label rep? Already? We'd agreed that we'd get back into it, but this soon? "This is good news, mate," Niall said softly as he watched me pace.

"Jumping ship to a new label already? That seems..."

"No one is jumping ship," Jules reminded me. "We're just talking to some bird who liked our set. She probably has no idea who we even..." He trailed off as he looked out the door.

"What?" I asked, skirting around the couch to see who he was staring at. "Who is it?"

Jules swung the door open wider.

There were two women on the other side of the door. One had a cloud of flame-red curls on top of her head that reminded me of Jane so much I felt a pang in my heart. But that wasn't why my pulse was suddenly thudding in my ears.

"It was you guys," the petite brunette in the tight little T-shirt said.

"Hi again," I said, feeling my stomach dropping right down to my combat boots.

Jules, who up until this moment had been standing there like a statue, suddenly burst out laughing. "Oi mate!" he sang out, slapping his knee. "That's her! That's the nice girl you got fired!"