My heart dropped down to stomach even as the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

His face was comically shocked. I would have laughed if I wasn't so pissed to see him again,

At least he knew who I was. He remembered, that much was clear. "Celia, right?" Ewan said in an outrush of breath. "Hey I'm sorry about what..."

"What happened?" I supplied icily, looking over my shoulder to glare at August.

But she was paying no attention to my humiliation. She had her face buried in her phone, scrolling through something with widened eyes. I looked back at Ewan, who was standing there with his hands outstretched in mute appeal. "For making Roger fire me?" I finished.

The corner of his mouth lifted in an apologetic smile. "I dinna actually want anyone fired," he said in a lilting brogue. "Bloody Yanks don't understand the fine art of sarcasm. I'm sorry about that love. Let me buy you a drink."

"That's not necessary," I said icily. "In fact I was just about to be on my way so..."

"Twat Yacht!" August suddenly exploded.

All four of us looked at her as she snapped her head back up from her phone. "I found it!" she said, as if that was any sort of explanation.

"What did you find, love?" Jules asked, giving her a patronizing smile that I wanted to smack off his face. I wanted to smack all of them. Even shy, polite Niall who was hiding in the background as usual. I felt lied to. Like they all had conspired to force me to fall in love with their music under false pretenses. Like they were all playing some elaborate joke on me. It was crazy, I knew it was crazy but the hot, bilious anger was filling my mouth with the taste of copper pennies and I was ready to either start kicking and screaming or just start running for the nearest exit.

"Who you are!" August said, brandishing her phone like a weapon. She stalked up and shoved it under Jules' nose.

"They're Wrecked," I said through gritted teeth.

"Nah, we're not," Ewan said softly.

"Twat Yacht," August read from her phone. "The name Jules Spencer and Ewan Boyd from Wrecked used to play under back when they were first starting out."

"It says that?" Jules asked, grabbing August's wrist and staring at her phone screen.

"It does."

"Fucking hell." Jules looked up at Ewan. "I guess that's why all those people showed up."

"I hate the fucking internet," Niall growled. "I really fucking do."

"So wait," I clarified. "You guys booked tonight under an old name?"

Ewan shrugged and smiled that half-apologetic grin again. He had a dimple I'd never noticed before peeking out of his left cheek. But it was more of a groove than a dimple, following the clean angle of his jaw as he smiled at me while I worked my hardest to stay pissed at him. "We thought it was funny back when we were lads," he explained. "Because they rhyme, yeah? But they're spelled different?"

"And because one of the words is twat," Jules piped up, cuffing Ewan on the back of the head. "Don't try to sugarcoat it into being all literary and shit."

"Well yeah, that too."

"I made them change it," Niall spoke up. "When I joined."

"To Wrecked?" I asked.

"Night that Niall showed up there was this big fight at the pub," Jules explained. "We watched some bloke get absolutely wrecked by his mates. Just pummeled into the ground."

"We thought that's what our music would do," Ewan added with a grin. "Just knock you as flat as that poor drunken sod."

"But then Killian," Niall said.

"Fucking Killian," Jules spat. And all three of them fell silent, the air hanging heavy with regret.

Something inside of my chest loosened a little when I saw how much pain they were in. Killian's arrival in their band was the stuff of rock legend. Apparently they three of them crossed the Atlantic with dreams of making it big in New York. They booked a series of club shows around the city and on the third night they played a place downtown from here. That was the night that Killian Ness jumped onstage and started playing with them, completely unannounced, but that show ended up being a YouTube sensation because a sixteen year old Jane Doe was there in the audience, watching, having run away from her small town to New York City only the night before. It was like three paths converging on the same place. The formerly obscure British trio became a five-piece and their meteoric rise to the top of the charts began.

"Killian's gone now," I finally piped up. "So, you guys sort of have a second chance."

Ewan's crestfallen face suddenly lit back up again. His hair was long and dark, falling in curtains around his face, but when he swung it back out of his eyes, I could see how blue they were. "That's what the lads were saying to me earlier," he said. "A second chance."

Why was my throat suddenly dry? "Yeah," was all I managed to say.

"So how about that drink?"

"What?"

He grinned. "Second chances and all. I fucked things up for you at Crux, I know."

"No you didn't!" August chirped, interrupting him. I shot her a look but she was already running her mouth. "She's working A&R for Anthem now, which is what she wanted to do anyway."

"August," I warned.

"You actually did her a favor getting her out of there," August barreled on. "She was stagnating." She looked at me and widened her eyes. "What? You were! You'd been interning there forever instead of actually getting out there and making your name. I don't know what you're so afraid of, CeCe. You know talent when you see it. You've got an amazing ear for the right sound. That's why you came back here to talk with them in the first place."

"Thanks, August," I muttered. I could feel all three of the band members staring at me, their expectant gazes boring into my body, waiting for me to open my mouth and say something.

I swallowed hard, the sudden realization that I'd actually never done this before rendering me speechless. I'd never even seen a label rep in action. Roger had kept me behind his desk, swamped in paperwork and phone calls. The actual legwork of what an A&R rep did was a mystery to me, and yet everyone expected me to be able to just walk in a do it because of who I was. My legacy. The music that ran like blood in my veins. The crushing weight of my famous last name.

"So what's the word then, CeCe?" Ewan prodded gently. "You're with Anthem now, right?" He looked at Jules and then Niall. "Hard rock always was more of our thing."

"Tell 'em, C," August said encouragingly. "I'm sure your dad would be thrilled to land Wrecked, version 2.0."

I snapped my head up to glare at August. Too late she seemed realize her mistake and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she squeaked.

But Niall's sharp brown eyes were already peering at me. "Your dad?" he prompted.

"Who's your dad, Celia?" Ewan asked.

I swallowed again. Their keen, expectant expressions were bearing down on me. Now that they knew who I was, that would be all they could see. My father's daughter. Nepotism, a foot in the door. Not my own merits, however small they were. "Nobody," I squeaked, and turned for the door.