Page 34 of Living on the Edge

“That’s how you paid for the demo tape,” Sam says suddenly. “You could afford to finance the whole thing, even though you said it was just going on your credit card.”

“And dinner last night,” Mick says.

“And my car last year.” Jonny stares at me. “Your guy didn’t fix it for parts only—you just paid for the labor without telling me.”

“When my sister needed to go to urgent care after that gig in Wisconsin,” Tate says. “You said you’d pay the bill and then send the info to our parents so they could get it back from their insurance carrier—but you just took care of it…right? You never sent my parents a bill.”

I don’t say anything because they already know the answers.

“All the times you picked up guitar strings for us,” Sam says. “It wasn’t because they were on clearance at random stores—you bought them because you could.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I answer finally. “I was never trying to hurt you. I also didn’t want to step on anyone’s pride by flaunting the fact that I could buy shit for us. I tried to make up for my duplicity by being a good friend.”

“Good friends don’t lie,” Jonny mutters.

I honestly don’t know what else I can say.

Either they’re going to forgive me or they’re not.

But the band is a business now, which means we have to work through this.

There’s too much at stake.

“What can I do?” I ask. “I’ve apologized. I tried to show you how much I care about you guys but at the end of the day, you have to decide if you can forgive me. We just released an album and we’re on tour… we have to talk things out so we can get back out there and do what we do.”

There’s another awkward silence.

“Do you want me to take a few days off?” I ask. “Let Bash fill in for me while you guys decide what you want to do going forward?”

“No.” Tate, at least, doesn’t hesitate. “Fuck no. You’re not going anywhere. Whatever we decide, you don’t get to walk away. You’re going to have to own it.”

“I don’twantto walk away, but we can’t become one of those bands who hates each other. Where we play together every night and then flip each other the bird the minute we get off the stage.”

“Don’t we do that anyway?” Mick quips.

Okay, he made a joke. He can’t betoomad.

“You sold the most girl scout cookies for my niece,” Jonny says suddenly. “But you didn’t really sell them, did you? You just bought them.”

I sigh. “I did the best I could under the circumstances.”

No one says anything.

“Look, bro, I’m good.” Mick shrugs. “Going forward, you’re going to have to earn my trust back, but I’m not mad about it. You’ve always had my back. That counts for something.”

“I appreciate it, man.” I hold out my hand, and he just pulls me in for a quick hug.

“You and I are going to talk about this over a bottle of something,” Tate says after a moment. “But we’re good.” He nods in my direction.

“Thanks, bro.” I nod back.

“Frankly, my only concern is the fallout for the band,” Sam says.

“Sasha said she’s working on a plan if things go sideways,” I reply.

“And that’s the problem,” Sam says. “If we’dknown, there would alreadybea plan in place.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll hire separate PR, on my own dime, if necessary.”

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