She drove me batshit crazy, and I hated her in my space. Having her so close meant I never felt like I could relax. The moments of stolen sleep were even harder to manage when worries mounted in my head about what would happen once I drifted off.
A shadow fell over me. “Well, that was embarrassing. For you, not for me. For me it was hilarious.” Everest slid into the previously occupied seat beside me. He unbuttoned his jacket and rested his arm on the back of the couch, looking like he was ready for his interview on The Tonight Show. Right now his smoothness made me want to punch him. While I always felt like I was faking it, Everest exuded a high-class, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.
“Hilarious like when you saw Maddy last.” I bit out and took a sip from my glass.
His head snapped in my direction.
The booze curdled in my stomach, guilt souring the alcohol.
“Fuck, sorry. That was a low blow.” The backstage run-in with his ex had left him silent and pissed off for at least a week afterward. She was on our list of two things we didn’t bring up. Maddy and Milwaukee. The forbidden Ms.
He grunted and went back to his old-fashioned, scanning the crowd. “I didn’t have to come out, you know?”
“I know.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. My bleary eyes felt like someone had sandblasted them. The noise-cancelling headphones covered with the blasting music hadn’t been working for more than a few hours of sleep. “The stress is getting to me.”
“About the music festival?”
“How’d you—”
“Jameson,” we both answered at the same time.
“I told him to let me bring it up at the next meeting.” I didn’t need him going to bat for me and convincing everyone I could pull this off.
“He’s doing what he can to help you succeed. Trying to butter us up before we’re all together at once, grilling you.”
Of course they would. It was a big risk. One I hadn’t taken on lightly, but one I needed to go for. “The opportunity won’t come up again.”
“Not every opportunity is worth the cost.” He continued to stare out over the crowd like he was looking for someone.
He was, but she wasn’t here.
“The only way to know is to go for it.” I leaned forward and set my glass on the table, bracing myself for what I was about to do. I ducked my head, clasping my hands in front of me. “I was going to try to talk to Maddy.” I turned, looking at him over my shoulder.
If I hadn’t known him since junior year of college, I might not have picked up on it.
The nearly imperceptible locking of his muscles. The jump in his left eyelid. The reach for the lighter in his pocket, although he’d never smoked.
Jameson and August would be much better at seeing the signs than me, since they’d known him longer, but after working together for the past two years, the tells were easier to pick up on.
His head tilted, but he didn’t look at me. “You want Without Grey to play the festival.”
“It would raise the profile of the event tenfold.” And make a name for the company on a national scale. Getting Without Grey involved would turn all the spotlights onto that night, especially since they were being so secretive while recording their new album, but that also meant more eyes on the concert, and having it fail would paint us as amateurs. It would paint me as an amateur, and risk the reputation of the rest of the guys.
“They’re one of the biggest bands in the world.” He said it like sawdust was being shoved down his throat.
“Will you be okay if I do?” His history with Maddy was as complicated as it got, and I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have his blessing. He was one of my best friends, and if he wasn’t cool with it, I’d find another way to take the night to the next level.
“If it’ll help the event be a success… It’s not like I have to see her. I’m not going to lose my shit, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He looked to me with practiced relaxation. Tension still ran through him like a riptide.
“I don’t have to—”
“Do it. It’s been years. Not a big deal. She’s moved on and so have I.”
That was the least convincing sentence ever spoken, but tonight wasn’t the time to bring it up. “She’ll probably say no. Then it’ll be a moot point.” I shrugged, trying to keep it nonchalant, although I’d been working up the right angle for approaching her for over a week now. That was where people often screwed up. They went for the quick and easy ask, but often it was the finesse, the right phrasing and positioning that made what I did happen.
“You know she’ll say yes.” His gaze locked onto mine. “After you wrangled her the extension on her management consulting course senior year, she promised you our firstborn.” His throat worked up and down like he was gasping for air. “So I’m sure getting her band, who will be in town anyway, to play a show wouldn’t be too much of an ask.” His mirthless laugh hurt my ears. It sounded like chewing glass while raking nails against a chalkboard.
“We’ll see.” I wished there’d been a different way to go about this. One where Everest didn’t look like he was moments from clawing his way out of his own skin. Maybe this could be the chance for them to finally hash everything out and go their separate ways without this tether between them that spanned a decade and the thousands of miles they’d tried to put between each other.
Everest set down his glass. “I’m heading out. I’ve got an early meeting with the corporate management team at the rink tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget to bring your coat. Are you going to put on skates this time? Take a spin out on the ice?”
He stood and buttoned his blazer. “Fuck off.”
“I’d have thought after all this time, you’d be a hockey fan by now.”
Mr. Silver Spoon had probably gotten the biggest shock, being stuck with testosterone-fueled, liniment-covered, sweaty locker rooms. But working with upper management for all the major sports teams in the city allowed him to flex those old-money muscles and get us gigs we’d otherwise have been passed over.
Everest left and I sat back, checking the time, wondering what the hell I was still doing here. Ah, yes, avoiding my apartment. Sabrina had to be asleep by now. No bumping and thumping coming from her bedroom. No late-night visitors.
For all the new traffic through the apartment, she seemed to subscribe to the same rules I did when it came to no one sleeping over, but I doubted it was for the same reasons.
I got in a taxi and headed home. Tonight had done at least one thing—marked a band off the list. They’d been absolute assholes, taking the stage almost an hour late and being blitzed out of their minds. A band could function with one out-of-control member, but all four? That wasn’t happening.
The concert needed to run smoothly. And the band and their manager couldn’t be a clusterfuck or they’d be more of a headache than it was worth to have them play.
That was another plus in the Maddy column. Her issues with Everest aside, she was professional and made sure Without Grey were always where they needed to be.
The ride was short, traffic light at almost one a.m. A new doorman opened the door for me. They must’ve hired some new guys.