I bristled at her comment. “I wasn’t worried. If he wants to miss out on being a part of my life, then it’s his loss.” A knot of something dark and ugly twisted in my stomach as I thought of our rift being permanent, but I pushed it aside.

Mom gave me a sad smile, then patted my back. “Of course, dear.”

Two weeks later, I was still filming the same damn episode. If I thought rehearsing the same songs with the guys over and over was bad, acting out scenes was even worse! We did the same section over and over and over. My brain was frying from the monotony, and I couldn’t understand why the camera dude needed a shot of me saying, “Sure, Crash, whatever you say,” fifteen thousand times. It was ridiculous.

And the rest of the cast. Don’t even get me started on them. There was always something wrong with one of them. Someone was hungover, someone couldn’t remember their lines, someone was mad at someone, someone was late. It was one fucking thing after another, and all any of it did was make the day even slower. And since I was typically the one who’d goofed off in the past, being forced to be the studious one was a shock to the system.

But as much of an annoyance as the cast was, their squabbles were nothing compared to the chaos going on behind the scenes. Between the writers, the directors, and the studio execs, someone always had a problem with what we were doing. It seemed like every other hour I was handed a revised script. Remembering what I was supposed to remember and what I was supposed to forget gave new meaning to the word “frustration.” At this rate, I didn’t see how we’d ever finish filming one episode, let alone the six that LMF had ordered.

And if we didn’t finish the six episodes, then we’d never get picked up for a full season and I’d never see a decent paycheck. I didn’t want to worry about it, because I wasn’t one to worry about cash, but it was starting to eat at me. I’d asked Anna to trust me…I needed to deliver on that.

After spending most of the day doing nothing more than being filmed pretending to play a song on the stage, I was drained. While my driver took me home, I pulled out my cell phone and stared at it.

The album was dropping today.

Matt was probably in full-on freak-out mode. Nervous, sweating bullets, anxiously skimming for early reviews. He took it all so seriously, like he was personally being judged. Dude needed to relax before he worked himself into an early grave. Maybe being married would help. I should call and find out when the wedding was. Evan’s too. Even though there was crap between us right now, surely I was still on the invite list.

Making a split-second decision, I found Matt’s name in my phone and called his cell. It didn’t even ring, it just went straight to voicemail. Weird. Maybe his phone was dead. Not wanting to leave a message, I disconnected and called someone else instead. He actually picked up.

“Evan, dude…what’s up?”

There was a long pause before he said anything, and when he did, it was just my name. “Griffin.” From the way he said it, I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a curse.

“Uh, yeah.” Tilting my head, I wondered if he had a problem with me too. Well, if he did, it was reciprocated; he never said goodbye to me. Since it was fresh in my mind, I asked him about it. “Why didn’t you see me off at the airport? Kell did.”

“I guess Kellan is a bigger man than I am.” Evan let out a long exhale, then started in on me. “What the hell are you thinking, Griffin? You quit the band for a TV show? One that might or might not actually go anywhere? Are you nuts?” I opened my mouth to answer him, but he plowed right over me before I could. “And what the hell happened between you and Matt? You know the real reason why I didn’t show? Matt dropped by after you decked him, and I spent the next three days calming him down.”

“Well, he—”

Evan cut me off with more heated words. “And you threatened to take the name. The band’s name. The name that we’ve been trying to make mean something for years, and you were just going to hijack it from us? You have some nerve.”

Now I was starting to get angry. “I didn’t. I let you guys keep it.”

“But you still threatened to take it…like you wanted to punish us or something. So tell me, Griff, what the hell did any of us ever do to you?”

Steam was practically coming out of my ears now. Calling him was a mistake. Caring about the band was a mistake. Cutting all ties was best for everyone. The D-Bags are better off without you, Matt had told me. I doubted that, but I guess we’d see. I was done.

“You know what, Evan, why don’t you, Matt, and Kellan get back up on your high horses and ride off into the fucking sunset together. It’s clear to me that none of you get me, and none of you ever will.” I hung up the phone before he could further rip into me. My ass was sore enough.

My driver was staring at me in the rearview mirror. Not in the mood, I barked, “What?” His eyes returned to the road, and finally feeling somewhat in control, I told him, “Drive faster. I want to feel like I’m flying.” Fuck them all.

When I got home, I was not in the mood to deal with any more crap. I just wanted to grab my wife, take her into the sauna, and mix our sweat together. Along with other fluids. Anna was on the floor playing with Onnika in the living room when I came upon her. Gibson was tossing blocks at Onnika, and Anna was reprimanding her. “Stop it, Gibson! You’re going to hit her in the eye.”

Gibson didn’t look like she cared. But she brightened when she noticed me. Running over, she leaped into my arms with a squeal. Anna turned to smile up at me. “Hey, babe. How was work? Dinner should be done in twenty minutes or so.” She batted her feet together as she lay on her stomach. She was wearing short shorts that almost exposed her ass. My dick made its approval known. I needed her. That would make me feel better.