Page 33 of Living on the Edge

I take a sip of coffee and try to figure out how I’m going to make this up to them. The thing is—I’ve been surreptitiously taking care of them since the get-go.

We have a top-notch crew because I subsidize their salaries—personally.

Except no one but management knows that.

When we didn’t have the money for our demo tape, I said we could put it on my credit card and told them they could pay me back whenever we started making money.

There have been a thousand times I’ve bailed them out of financial scrapes, but they never noticed or simply took it for granted that I, for some reason, had unlimited credit on my cards.

The signs were there that I’m not just another broke musician, but they chose not to see them.

Either that or I’m a way better actor than I thought I was.

Jonny arrives a few minutes later, and the four of them look at me.

I guess this is the hard part.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot today. “It wasn’t intentional. I legally changed my name long before I met any of you. Long before we formed Crimson Edge.”

“And you didn’t think telling us who you used to be was important?” Tate asks. “I thought we were friends—brothers.”

“Brothers don’t lie to each other,” Jonny adds.

“I was trying to protect us,” I repeat. “People despise my family. You mention the Hollingsworth name, and they immediately think about the people who tripled the cost of the latest chemo drugs and announced another price hike is in the works. I was afraid that any link to the real me could potentially tank any chance for success. And frankly, the way you guys used to drink and party? I didn’t trust that it wouldn’t slip out if you knew.”

“You didn’t trust us.” Sam looks frustrated.Hurt.

This sucks.

“All the times we sat there eating fucking ramen and you had millions in the bank?” Mick makes a face. “I mean, did you just go home after that and order Chinese or something, laughing at the poor saps you just left?”

“No! What the fuck?” I glare at him. I know I fucked up but that’s ridiculous. “I’d like to think you know me better than that. I understand I kept a big secret from all of you, but there was never anything malicious about it—I didn’t want the Hollingsworth haters to tank our careers.”

“Does management know?” Tate asks quietly.

I hate throwing anyone under the bus, but Sasha and Casey can take care of themselves.

“For safety reasons, they had to do full background checks on all of us because of our potential proximity to the royal family, so they found out that way.”

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Jonny asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Isn’t that the million-dollar question?

“I was afraid,” I admit after a minute. “I knew you guys were going to be pissed. In the beginning, I didn’t know how far things would go musically so I figured it wasn’t your business. By the time I realized we had something special, it was too late. And then every time I thought about telling you, I knew you wouldn’t take it well. I guess I was chicken shit.”

“You even lied about your age,” Tate says after a moment.

“I thought it would help keep my identity hidden. If anyone started digging, they’d be looking for a twenty-six-year-old, not someone who was thirty-two.”

They’re all quiet, and I can see the wheels turning.

Tate and I are the closest, so I know he’s more hurt than mad.

Sam is always the voice of reason within the band, and I imagine he’s mulling it over thoughtfully, trying to see both sides.

Mick’s a pretty easy-going guy who hates confrontation, but he won’t hesitate to call someone out on their shit, me included.

Jonny can be hot-headed and temperamental, so my guess is he’s going to take the longest to forgive me.

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