Page 40 of Out of the Blue

The rest of the band nods.

I reach Trent’s side while they discuss the new music. “Is this how it works?” I whisper. “They present a new melody to you, and you come up with lyrics?”

He expels his breath through his mouth. “Sometimes. We’ll get into all this later.” He interlaces his fingers with mine and addresses the band. “I want to tell you all something.”

My heart hammers in my chest. No more delays. He already told me they’d be happy for us.Trust. Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick.

“Hey,” the man holding my hand announces. “Cordy and I are dating. Wanted to let you know.”

Geez. No time to warm up to the idea, just rip the Band-Aid off as fast as possible. My stomach tightens as I suck in my breath, waiting for their disapproval.

“Ah, right!” Maurice whoops. He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and motions for Joey and Dwight to fork over. For their part, Joey says, “Congrats,” while Dwight adds, “About time.”

What? They’re not making fun of us? Of me? When they remove some bills and pass them to Maurice, my eyebrows shoot up.

For his part, Trent shakes his head. “Dudes. Really? You bet on us?” His gaze levels at the two paying the money. “You betagainstme?”

Returning his wallet to his back pocket, Dwight shrugs. “I was all in for Cordelia. Didn’t think you had it in you, bro.”

He’s happy we’re together? I grin at the drummer.

“I knew you two were bumping uglies. I was rooting for Cordelia here to be able to tame you. But with your track record, I didn’t think she had a chance,” Joey explains.

Maurice waves a fistful of cash at Trent and me. “Hey. I bet you’d pull it out.”

My grin gets bigger and encompasses all of the band. Trent takes their ribbing with the good nature I think he used to have. Before. Before his mother was killed. Before he found out his true parentage. In this moment, I vow to do everything I can to help restore goodness to his life all the time. Even if he eventually cuts me out of his life, like all the others. I’ve never been a paragon of hopefulness, or even positivity. But he deserves this.

My thoughts scatter as I’m embraced by each of these amazing men. When the hugfest ends, Maurice says, “Welcome, officially, to the group, Cordelia!”

They swim before my eyes, but I tamp down my silly tears. “Thanks, guys.”

Dwight plays a beat on Trent’s leg. “You caught a good one. Don’t fuck it up.”

His tight group of friends has accepted me into the fold. A little adrift at such affection, I retreat into working mode and pluck out my cell phone. Bringing up the Apex analytics, I compare TLR against California Skies—the metrics remain static.

The guys continue to bust on Trent. Meanwhile, I check out the rest of the stats. Finished, I pop over toFirst Rumors, releasing my breath when nothing new has been added about the band.Please let their smear campaign be over.

When a lull overtakes the room, I hold up my phone. “Well, I have some news. Want the bad or the worse?”

My question puts a damper on things, but we have to get real here.

Joey’s the first to answer. “I vote for the worst news. Get it over with.” The other guys nod in agreement.

I glance at the keyboardist and reply, “Last night,First Rumorspublished another article. It was about you, Maurice.”

“Shit.” He takes off his glasses, wipes them on his shirt, and puts them back on. When the other members of the band put their hands on his back, I know these guys will rally through together. Like they did for Joey.

“Yeah. It’s all lies, of course.” Air fills my chest as I continue. “It basically says you’re going blind.”

Maurice winces. The rest of the band remains steady in support.

After a moment, Maurice steps forward. “My vision sucks, but you already knew that. As I said the other night, my eye doctor diagnosed me with episcleritis and put me on Prednisone.” He fishes into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills. “They’re working. My eye’s not red anymore, but I hate the drug’s side effects.”

I realize he’s worried about his eyesight. Who wouldn’t be? But the article is way out of bounds. “I’m glad, Maurice. Hope you can stop taking them soon.”

The rest of the guys murmur their support.

I wish I could figure out who the tipster is and shut him or her down. No one fucks with what’s mine.Mine?Correction. No one fucks withmy job. Better.

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