Page 19 of Spark

“Fuck.” He sighs. “Fine. Yes. I told Savage. But I didn’t tell anybody else, I swear.”

I grunt in frustration and release him. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because I tell Savage everything. You know that. He’s my boo.”

“I’myour boo!”

“But he’s myfirstboo. And he didn’t tell anyone, and neither did I, except for him, so it’s fine.”

I can’t help chuckling, despite my anger. “Sweetheart, your math ain’t mathing. You telling Savage means two-fifths of our band has believed Kai’s bullshit story for five long years. That’s forty percent of the band.”

“Oh.”

“And if you take Kai out of the equation, and me, too, then that’s a full sixty-six percent of our band believing Kai’s horrible slander about me.”

“I didn’t think of it like that.”

I swat his shoulder. “I’m so mad at you for believing Kai all this time.”

“I couldn’t fathom he’d lie to me about something like this.”

“Babe, I know you never would, but the world is filled with men, like Kai, who’d lie to save face without a second thought.”

Kendrick exhales. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not going to fix it. Come on.” I pat his thigh. “It’s time for an emergency band meeting.”

“Now?” He looks at his watch. “It’s almost four.”

“I don’t care. If I wake anyone up, they can sleep on the plane.”

“But what about testing your theory about my insomnia?”

I pull a face. “Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I mean, it seems like an intriguing idea. I’m definitely curious if it’ll work.”

“Jesus Christ, KC. Get your priorities straight, dude. Your brother has slandered me!” I grab his hand and yank on him. “And I’m not willing to wait another second to clear my goddamned name!”

5

RUBY

After a bit of a crankiness and confusion at his door, our groggy-eyed front man, Savage, his dark hair askew, steps back from the doorframe and lets all four of his sleepy-eyed bandmates into his massive suite. With Savage’s popstar wife, Laila, traveling with him—not as our opener this time, but simply for pleasure—and thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Savage having more money than God, due to their multi-year judging contract onSing Your Heart Out, Savage has been booking insanely expensive suites for him and the missus throughout our entire tour, while the rest of us peons settle for the standard rooms supplied by our label.

Yawning, we all shuffle toward the various seating options in the large sitting room.

As he flops into an armchair, Savage murmurs, “Happy birthday, KC. Is this a dare?” He’s referring toBirthday Truth or Dare, the game that’s become a tradition for our band on every member’s birthday.

“Nope,” I interject. “Thanks to Kai, I’ve been forced to call an emergency band meeting.”

Savage scowls at Kai. “What’d you do?”

Kai leans back in a chair. “Fuck if I know. I was minding my own business in my room when Ruby and her two goons here showed up at my door, talking about all three of them beating the shit out of me if I didn’t voluntarily come with them.”

Savage looks at me. “What’d he do?”

Before I get a word out, Laila emerges from a bedroom in silk pajamas, her blonde hair in a ponytail and her gorgeous face etched with confusion. “Is it already time to go to the airport?”

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