Stan dropped his bags in the entrance hall, locked the door behind himself, and made his way into the fray.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Five furious faces turned towards him. Not every expression changed when they realised it was Stan.
“When did you get back?” Summer asked. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and it looked like she’d been crying.
No one was wearing proper clothes, despite it being early afternoon. They’d likely not long been out of bed.
“Now,” Stan said. “What’s going on? Jesus Christ, I only left for a few days.”
“Not now, Stan,” Geordie said. He sounded tired. “It’s good to see you an’ all, but please….”
“Look, he’s a part of this as much as anyone else,” Tone said.
“He’s Ben’s ex. He’s not—”
“He helped when no one else would—”
“This is about us—”
“Holy shit, shut up!” Stan exclaimed, shouting over all of them. He scanned the big kitchen and pointed to the kitchen island. There were enough tall stools for them all to sit around it. “Sit. All of you.”
To his absolute surprise, they all did.
They grumbled about it, but they did.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said, walking over to the island with five very upset people staring him down. “But we’re going to sort this out right now. Put your hands up if you want to talk.”
“Fuck’s sake, Stan, we’re not kids.”
Stan stared Jez down until he withered. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ben, not yet. Not when he still ached to be wrapped up somewhere quiet with Ben again. That would have to wait.
“You’re acting like fucking kids. If there’s one thing I have experience in, it’s group therapy. So let’s figure this out.” He went to the fridge and found a bottle of water inside. Which was good, because he definitely needed a prop. “In three sentences or less, tell me what’s going on. One at a time.”
“Finishing the album,” Tone said.
“And what happens after,” Summer added.
Jez opened his mouth to speak, but Stan held his hand up to stop him. “That’s enough.”
It was true that he’d been through this experience plenty of times before, going around a circle to share his thoughts. Leading a group was a different kind of intimidating, though, especially with this particular group of people—who weren’t exactly known for hiding their feelings. He opened the bottle and took a sip.
“Just before we start,” Stan said. “I’m going to go over the rules. Only one person at a time can talk. Everyone else has to be quiet and listen. If you want to say something next, raise your hand. Oh, and the rules don’t apply to me. I’m the facilitator.”
“Can I go first?” Ben asked, raising his hand. Stan was surprised but silently nodded at him
“Everyone’s pissed off at me,” he said softly. He was wearing baggy sweatpants that Stan thought might belong to Tone, and one of his old band T-shirts. Stan guessed all the rest of their stuff had arrived from LA. “And I kind of get why. I’ve fucked up, I’ve hurt everyone in this room, and I’m sorry. I don’t get to say sorry because you guys start fucking yelling at me every time I try. I don’t know what we do next, but I can’t do another world tour. I can’t. And I’m sorry about that too.”
He slowly met Stan’s eyes. Stan’s heart ached for him.
Tone raised his hand, and Stan silently nodded. He picked up a tea spoon from the island, one that hadn’t been used yet, and slapped it against his palm.
“I think this album might be the best we’ve ever made. I really want to say that before we get into anything else. What I’ve heard already is so fucking beautiful, and I’m really proud of what we’ve done.”
He set the spoon down and shuffled his weight on the barstool.
The kitchen was eerily quiet, filled with just the sounds of six people breathing. Slowly, Summer raised her hand.
“I agree with Tone. And, Ben… I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you. We owe you an apology too.”
Jez had his arms folded across his chest, silently fuming, and Stan tilted his head at him, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. Almost imperceptibly, Jez shook his head.
Stan decided not to push it and shrugged out of his leather jacket. It was butter-soft tan leather and one of his most favourite things. Carefully he set it on the counter behind them and shook out his hair.
“Anyone else?”
Geordie held up his hand, and Summer nodded to him to go next.
“I agree with Tone and Summer. This album is really fucking good. It deserves to be heard. We’ve got a following now. People put us where we are, and if we release this music, then they deserve to hear it live. We owe them that much.”
Tone opened his mouth to speak, and Stan quickly held up a hand to silence him. Then he gestured for Geordie to keep going.
Geordie pushed his fingers through his curly hair. “I don’t want anything we do to hurt anyone, least of all Ben. I don’t want him to leave the band, but if he doesn’t feel like he can keep going, then that’s his decision.”
“I didn’t—” Ben started.
“Ben,” Stan said sharply. Then he shook his head.
Ben huffed and slumped over, resting his chin in his hand.
Stan took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Can someone please tell me how close to being finished the album is?”
“We need to lay down the vocals and finish some of Ben’s guitars,” Summer said. “Then it’ll go to our producer to put it all together.”
“Thank you.” He took a deep breath, thinking. “Okay. We’re going to go around again. One sentence or less answers, please. What’s your favourite gig you’ve ever played?”
He purposefully nodded to Jez first, aware that he hadn’t spoken yet. Jez was still coiled to pounce, tension rolling off him in waves. Still, he seemed to be prepared to go along with the game Stan was playing.
“Glastonbury,” he said tersely, then looked to Geordie.
“The Roundhouse.”
“Buck Shot,” Tone said without hesitation.
Ben hesitated for a moment. “Glastonbury,” he said.
“Anywhere in London,” Summer said. “It’ll always be a home-town crowd here.”
Stan had had a feeling what their answers might be. It was nice to be proven right.
“I’m going to make a suggestion,” he said slowly. “And you might all completely disagree with me, which is fine.”
He took another moment to sip his water and think, hyperaware of the focus that was directed at him.
“Close your eyes for me. Just go with it. What if… what if you released the album at Christmas, like planned, and wait for it to gain some traction. Then after a few months, you play a surprise gig in Newcastle. Get them to announce it on the breakfast show on Radio One. Tickets as first come, first served or something.”
They all still had their eyes closed, and Geordie was smiling a little.
“A couple of weeks later, you do it again, this time in Bristol. Then in Oxford.” Though they couldn’t see him, Stan nodded at Tone, then Ben. “By this time people are starting to realise what’s going on. You’re playing home-town gigs to the people from those places, right? It’s fan service, but the good kind. It’s going back to your homes, your roots. Then Brighton”—where Summer grew up—“and Cambridge.” For Jez. “No set schedule or anything. You just turn up, play the album, then pack up and go. No press, no interviews, just the music.”