Page 32 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“Yeah, okay, you’re probably right. At least there’s a rad solo in ‘Neon Crush,’” he concedes. “Just make sure you get my good side on camera.”

I grin then glance over at Key again, who’s cracking his knuckles and looking at the floor. What the hell is up with him now?

“When does production get underway?” Dave asks.

Al holds up his hands. “I’m still ironing out the details, I just wanted to let you know. Now”—he glances at his watch—“you’re on in fifteen, so blow the fucking roof off this place.”

They all give a resounding whoop before finishing their beers and heading for the stage, but I haul Key back by the shoulder. “You okay, man? You looked like you might be sick for a second there.”

He nods. “Oh, yeah. Fine. Just . . . ‘Neon Crush’ is—well, it’s a lot of pressure. It’s one of the only songs on the record where I’m the sole writer. I guess I’m just worried that if it bombs . . .”

“You’ll think it’s because of you and not us,” I finish for him.

He nods. “Yeah. Exactly.”

I twist my lips and sniff. “I wouldn’t worry. If it bombs it’ll be because your ugly mug is on the TV, not because of your songwriting.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

“No seriously,” I continue with a shit-eating grin, following the others out the door. “Your hideous face on TV? We’ll be lucky if people don’t think we’ve started a zombie invasion.”

“He really is an ugly mother fucker.”

The two of us stop, our path to the stage blocked by a figure in the dark corridor. His voice is familiar, and it’s as if the floor has just disappeared beneath me. I can feel the tension taking over Key’s whole body as the man steps into the light in front of us. Someone neither of us has seen in almost eight years.

“One-Punch Logan?” I mutter, followed by a swift elbow to the ribs from Key.

But he seems to ignore the offensive nickname, and instead, smiles even brighter. “Hey, guys.”

“Uh, hey, man. How are you doing? How’d you, uh . . . get back here?” Key asks.

Logan Samuels steps closer, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his jeans. He looks exactly the same, right down to the braid tucked into the brown ponytail that trails down his back. The same smug smile on his lips, like he thinks he knows more than everyone else in the room. The only thing different is his nose and, well, I guess I’m to blame for that.

He raises his arm where a blue rubber bracelet with the name “Carnal Sins” is visible.

“Fuck,” Key mutters.

While we haven’t used the bracelets to hand out to groupies in a few months, I guess they’re still out there circling. Did Logan find one by accident? Or did he seek out a fan and steal it from her? Either way, this guy is as loony as I remember.

“Well, it was nice to see you again but we have a show to do,” I say, trying to get Key to push ahead. “Enjoy the show.”

“Oh, I will,” he says. “And you guys enjoy being out there. Must be awesome to have everyone screaming and cheering for you.”

I frown. “Yeah, it’s fucking unicorns and rainbows all day.” Rolling my eyes, I shove past him with my shoulder. “See you around, Samuels.”

“You never know which performance might be your last.”

We both stop and turn around to find this prick grinning like he won the lottery.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Key asks, stepping forward.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You just never know when your luck will change, right?”

Key moves but I grab his arm. “Forget about him. He’s just being a massive cunt.”

“Guys, they’re waiting for you—oh!”

Becks appears in the hallway behind us, her lips parted in surprise to find us with a stranger. Her eyes dart between us, clearly sensing something is amiss with the way her gaze lingers on my hand holding Key back.

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