Page 57 of Electric Wounds
THIRTY-EIGHT
HOLDING ON
Dylan
Waking up with Lily beside me is something I could definitely get used to. Her warmth, the way she nestles into me during the night—it’s the perfect start to any morning. I brush a few strands of hair away from her face and kiss her gently on the forehead. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and she smiles sleepily.
“Morning, beautiful,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss on her lips.
She sighs, her eyes closing briefly. “This is the best way to wake up,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep, unconsciously mirroring my thoughts from a few seconds prior.
I grin, my chest swelling at her words. “Glad to hear it.”
Just as I’m about to kiss her again, the curtain enclosing our bunk is yanked open, and Enzo’s smirking face appears. “Rise and shine, lovebirds. We’ve got company.”
Lily and I scramble to sit up. Our peaceful morning instantly shattered. “Damn it, Enzo,” I mutter, but he just chuckles and walks away, leaving the curtain hanging open in his wake.
I yank it back to closed, then hurry to get dressed. Having to alternate pulling on articles of clothing with Lily, due to thelimited space. She giggles as she almost elbows me in the face and I laugh, despite the tension creeping back in.
A visitor can only mean one thing. Someone from the label. I can feel the anxiety rising with each layer of clothing, the weight of the day pressing down on me. I’m not usually one to let these things get to me, but the past year the band has been through a lot.
When we finally step out of the bunk, Harris is already waiting, looking as serious as ever. His dark hair is slicked back, and his suit is sharp as usual. His face, though, shows the stress of whatever news he’s about to deliver.
“Morning, Harris,” I say, trying to keep it casual. “What’s up?”
“Good morning, Dylan. Glad you could finally join us,” he replies, his tone clipped. He offers a pointed look to Lily, and she flushes. Turning to face the rest of the group, he says, “We need to talk. The label’s not happy. There’s a meeting with an executive to discuss your contract.”
The weight of his words hit like a brick. Lily’s hand finds mine, and I give it a squeeze, trying to keep calm.
“When’s the meeting?” Marcus asks, his brows furrowed.
“In thirty minutes. We need to leave now,” Harris answers, his expression stern.
“Do we need to bring anything?” Lily asks.
Harris shakes his head, then exits the bus. We file out after him, with the feel of a funeral lingering about us.
The ride to the label’s office is tense. No one speaks much, and the air feels thick with the weight of what’s to come. Jax stares out the window, his jaw clenched, while Marcus and Enzo exchange worried glances. Lily sits close to me, her hand still in mine, offering silent support.
The city blurs past us as we head to the office, each turn bringing us closer to a potential disaster. I glance over at Lily.She gives me a small, encouraging smile, but I can see the worry in her eyes too. I can feel her heart racing, and it mirrors my own.
When we arrive at our destination, we’re ushered into a sleek, modern conference room. The walls are lined with platinum records, reminders of what’s at stake. The executive, a stern-looking woman in a tailored black suit, is already seated. Her sharp eyes flick over us as we sit down.
“Let’s get to it,” she says, her voice cold. “Your recent performances have been subpar. You’ve been late to shows, your energy is off, and it’s affecting your reputation. The label is considering not renewing your contract.”
Her words are like a sucker punch. We’ve known this was a possibility after we had to cancel half of our tour last year, but I don’t think any of us thought it would actually happen. I can feel the tension radiating off everyone. Jax’s fists clench, Marcus shifts uncomfortably, and Enzo’s usual arrogance fades into something more serious. Lily’s grip on my hand tightens.
“We understand there have been issues, and the band takes ownership of the ones that were within their control,” Harris steps in, trying to smooth things over. “But the band is committed to turning things around, which you can see from their recent shows.”
The executive’s eyes narrow. “Commitment isn’t enough. We need result and one of these recent shows almost had to be rescheduled. One more screw-up, and you’re done.”
Her words hang heavy in the air. We nod, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
Harris asks a question about our contract, and I tune them out. The executive goes through a few documents with him, then, after what feels like an eternity, the meeting ends.
We leave the office, and I feel like the weight of the world is on our shoulders. No one says much on the way back to the van.Everyone is lost in their own thoughts, the reality of the situation hitting hard.
“Fuck,” Enzo mutters as we climb into the van. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced with frustration. “This is bullshit.”
