Page 97 of The Drummer

I sigh and drop my hands. “Yeah, man. TJ is going to set up a call for damage control.”

“What are they saying?”

Luke’s expression is still unreadable as he watches me from several yards away.

“TJ didn’t give many details, but dude, Callie’s involved.”

He winces and sinks back against the couch. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. They’re saying you two are together.”

His gaze locks on mine. He knows the magnitude of what that means. And it means a whole lot more to him than a spreadsheet called “The Elena Thing.”

He runs a hand over his head as he thinks. “I should be on the call.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll take it.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t keep fighting my battles for me. You weren’t even part of this.”

“No, but I am now.”

“Casey…”

“I’m serious, man. It’s gonna be brutal, and I have a layer of insulation from it you won’t. They won’t expect you to be involved. Let me handle it.”

He deflates with a heavy exhale. “What about Callie? We need to warn her. Should we call her?”

The thought of waking her this early to blow up her life ignites a dull ache behind my eyes.

“No. I’ll break the news when she comes over. Which should be in just a few hours anyway. Plus, I’ll know more after the conference call.”

He lowers his gaze, pain flashing across his face. After a long silence, his eyes find mine again.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” he says quietly.

“It’s not a big deal. It’ll blow over. You know how it goes.”

He shakes his head. “No, I mean all of it.”

I flinch and go quiet as his words sink in. I don’t even know how to respond to that. Anything I say will be a lie and he knows it.

“I’m gonna shower and crash,” he says, laboring to his feet. An invisible curtain is sinking down on him, crushing him, veiling him right in front of my eyes. “Let me know if you change your mind about the call. I’ll take the hit.”

I believe him. Worse than that, I believe hewantsto take the hit because the pain will feed that sick part of his brain that insists on torturing itself.

I also know that call would undo all the progress we’ve made over the last couple of weeks, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting that happen.

My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen to see a text from TJ.

Everyone will be there. Bring your A Game.

The call goes about as badlyas it could. Maybe worse. At one point, the Label even says they’re done with us and activating their “Morality Clause” to officially sever ties.

TJ and our PR team manage to quell the fire enough to give us a chance to fix things. We have twenty-four hours to come up with an alternate narrative. It’s also hammered home that the demo on Fridaywillbe delivered and itwillbe good.

The harsher the vibe gets, the more grateful I am that Luke isn’t participating. It would’ve been so much worse for all parties involved, and we likely wouldn’t have gotten the brief reprieve. I take the repeated beatings and concede to all their demands, even though I know I probably can’t deliver any of them. At least I’ve gained a day todamage controlmy own life before it implodes on a public platform.

After we hang up, I stare at the wall for a long time. My head is spinning with the threats, warnings, and tirades meant for someone else. My chest aches. My stomach is in knots. The only thing keeping me remotely grounded is the thought of seeing Callie soon.

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