Nobody Falls for the Opening Act (Break the Rules Book 2)

Chapter 36

The show goes on.

Except… when it doesn’t.

Criminal Records has rules. Some are mere suggestions, obviously, but others are hard and fast. Non-negotiable.

The show goes on.

Always.

How we’re feeling doesn’t matter. What we’re doing is irrelevant. If we’re scheduled to go on, we go on. The only reason we wouldn’t is if one of us physically wasn’t present for reasons beyond our control. Me getting trapped in the back of a truck qualifies.

Today, Criminal Records failed to perform.

Could the rest of them have gone on without me? Maybe. But that runs into another rule we hold dear: All or none.

Gossipawants an interview with Knox only? Too bad.

A venue wants to host a solo Jonah show? Nope.

Addison goes missing three minutes before a show at the Bass and Bliss Music Festival in Austin, Texas? Welp.

It’s all of us, or none of us.

So while I was stuck in a truck with Harvey, Criminal Records were knee deep in damage control.

Where’s Addison? We’re not sure.

Can’t help but notice that Harvey Moon is missing, too. Looks like.

Is it possible they ran off together and left you stranded? Absolutely not.

Addison wouldn’t do that.

Harvey wouldn’t, either.

We have rules.

Also, fuck Logan Shock with a rusty garden hoe.

Apparently, it took the collective strength of Bronson, Jonah, and August to keep Knox from storming the stage and pummeling him. I’m sure that would have felt orgasmic, but it just would have made things worse for our already crumbling reputation. And there was the whole me and Harvey are stuck in the back of a truck with limited oxygen situation to deal with instead.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for someone to find us.

Prissy or whoever drove the truck away didn’t take us far. They kept us away long enough for The Electrics to have their encore, then parked us outside the nearest Botsford Plaza. Then it was just a matter of time before someone heard us pounding on the door and called security.

And we all lived happily ever after.

Yeah, right.

As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the day curled up in a hotel bed with room service and bad TV, we have a show tonight.

And the show goes on.

Doesn’t matter how we’re feeling.

Doesn’t matter that our professional reputation is in shambles. We practically begged for a last-minute slot in the festival. Jordan has her work cut out for her in smoothing that over.

Doesn’t matter how badly my heart hurts over Harvey.

Doesn’t matter that my sperm donor’s stain is all over this mess, too.

The show goes on.

Always.

So, here I am. Back on the tour bus and headed for the theatre in Austin, where thousands of Criminal Records fans are taking their seats. Thousands of Gossipa readers sit and wonder if Criminal Fuckers are actually going to perform tonight.

Fuck, I could use a comet. Or an eclipse. Some excuse to bolt out into the middle of nowhere beneath the stars and never look back.

Once this tour is over, I think I’ll do just that.

For now, I’ll lock it up. I’ll pick up my guitar and I’ll play music because that’s who I am. That’s who I worked so hard to become and I’ll be damned if I let anyone stand in the way of that. Not Logan Shock. Not Dade Connery.

Not even Harvey Moon.

I spot him across the bus as the thought drifts into my head. Before it even leaves, my stomach twinges with regret over having thought it in the first place.

I don’t love you anymore, either.

We haven’t spoken since the truck. Since I asked him to give up all of his dreams for me. Since I told him I wouldn’t love him anymore if he didn’t.

Why did I do that?

Why did I ask things of him I would never do myself? Why would I allow a man I don’t even know to ruin the only good relationship I’ve ever had in my life?

Fuck, I’m stupid.

I think about that as I cross the bus. Stopping next to his seat, I wait for him to look up or acknowledge me. But he doesn’t. He ignores me, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses as he writes something in his notebook.

“Harvey,” I say, “can I talk to you for a second?”

Harvey doesn’t reply, but his pencil stalls and he looks up. I think. Hard to tell behind the shades, but he angles his head up, his back firmly planted against the windows.

I’ll take that as a yes.

I slide into the seat behind him. He turns his head down again, his eyes on his notebook, but he keeps his pencil still.

“I just, uh…” I say, my voice low enough for only him to hear as the others are no doubt pretending not to listen. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I say, my breath held tight. “I shouldn’t have said those things before.”

“Do you…” Harvey looks at me through his shades. “The night we met in Chicago, we had a moment.”

“What?”

“We made eye contact at the hotel bar,” he says. “You smiled at me and I smiled back. Ever since then, I’ve called it our moment. It was the moment. The one that told me we were meant to be together. Do you remember that?”

I pause. I search my memory of that night, from us coming to Chicago and sitting through act after lousy act before we finally found Harvey. Dinner at the hotel. Drinks at the bar. Then…

“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember that, Harvey.”

Harvey nods, his shoulders sinking further. “Okay,” he whispers. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Harvey. It’s me. I’m the one in the wrong. I overreacted to seeing you with him, and I’m sorry. I… I hope that the two of us can still?—”

“What?” he says, his head lurching up. “Still be friends?”

I ease back a bit. “No, I?—”

“Now you want to be friends?” he asks, chuckling coldly.

“I’ve always wanted to be friends, Harvey.”

“And I told you I couldn’t do that. I asked you to let me go, to give me the space I needed to move on from you. But you didn’t. Now, we’re here. So no, Addison. I don’t accept your non-specific, vague apology. You can ease your guilt elsewhere.”

The others glance in our direction.

“Can you keep your voice down, please?” I whisper.

“Why?” he asks at a higher volume. “Are you scared your friends will discover who you really are?”

“Harvey—”

“I mean, I’d be nervous, too, if I’d been lying to all my friends for years about who I was. Or where I snuck off to in the middle of the night.”

I squint. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

“Hey!” Knox shouts from his seat in the back. “What’s going on over there?”

“Nothing,” I answer.

“No, go ahead,” Harvey says. “Tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Knox asks.

“Nothing,” I say again.

“Tell them where you go at night, Addison.”

I fall silent, too hurt to reply as Knox and Jonah stand up curiously.

Jordan does, too. “Okay, everybody,” she says with her clipboard in hand. “We’ve all had a really shitty day, all right? Let’s table this discussion until after the show.”

“Agreed,” Katrina says.

“No,” Knox says, stepping forward. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“There’s nothing going on, Knox,” I say.

“You sneak off somewhere at night?” he asks.

“I…” I hesitate, nervous beneath their stares. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then tell us.”

“Knox.”Bronson’s hard tone carries from the back. “Jordan said table it.”

“I’m not tabling jack shit until I know what’s going on.” Knox taps Jonah’s arm. “Jo, back me up here.”

Jonah nods. “Addison, what’s he talking about?”

Katrina says nothing, but her big eyes need to know as well.

“It’s not important right now,” I say.

Knox shakes his head. “We agreed to let you guys do your thing until it starts affecting the tour,” he says. “We lost our slot in the festival because of you.”

“We lost our spot because Prissy locked us in a truck.”

“You got your ass locked up in a truck because you took off to see Harvey when you weren’t supposed to,” he argues. “Sorry, Addy, but you fucked up here.”

“Knox,”Jordan says.

“I know I did,” I say, owning that.

“So, what’s going on?” Knox asks again, ignoring Jordan’s warning.

All eyes focus on me. The band and Jordan. Chrissy and August. Even Mac’s focus bounces between me and the road through his rearview mirror.

“I go stargazing sometimes,” I say. “When things get stressful and I need a break, I leave the hotel and drive a few miles outside of whatever city we’re in and I watch the stars. It relaxes me.”

Knox raises a brow, side-eying Harvey. “That’s it?”

I glare at him, too. “I said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“That’s what you guys are fighting about?” Jonah asks.

I keep my stare on Harvey, hoping that he’ll read my begging eyes and let this go.

He flashes a smug smile. No such luck. “I played for Dade Connery today,” he says.

The others look at him in surprise.

“No shit?” Knox says.

“He wants me to meet him at his place next week in Nashville.”

“Seriously?” Knox grins. “That’s badass, Moondog!”

“Thank you.” Harvey looks at me. “It means a lot to me.”

“Are you going to be on his comeback album?” Jonah asks.

“I hope so.”

“Dude…”

I say nothing as they offer their congratulations. Except Bronson, who merely looks at me silently.

“Wait,” Jonah says. “Is that what you guys are fighting about?”

“Is it?” Knox asks, confused.

I hesitate. “No, it’s not?—”

“Yes, it is,” Harvey says.

“You’re mad he got to play for Dade and we didn’t?” Katrina asks.

“No,” I say. “It’s not like that.”

“Then, what is it?” Knox asks.

“Knox.”Bronson speaks again, this time standing up. “Just let it go, man.”

“Let what go?” Knox laughs at Bronson’s sudden show. “What the hell is even happening right now?”

“Addison,” Jordan says, a soft urge for me to come clean.

I hold my breath, hoping to delay for as long as possible, but I can’t hide it anymore. Harvey is making damn sure of that. “I don’t want him to collaborate with Dade Connery,” I say. “That’s it.”

“But why not?” Knox asks.

“Yeah, Addison,” Harvey says. “Why not?”

“Because he’s my father,” I say, spitting the words out like bile.

They go quiet. I search their faces, watching as their expressions cycle through shock and excitement and confusion as if they’re now looking into the eyes of some stranger.

A passing car honks outside and the bus lurches slightly.

“Sorry,” Mac says, fixing his eyes on the road.

I swallow hard, the words tasting as bitter as they always have. “Dade Connery is my father,” I say, breaking the silence. “He paid off my mother to keep it quiet. When she eventually told me, he cut her off. That’s why she kicked me out. So, I hate him. And I don’t want my boyfriend collaborating with him.”

“I’m not your boyfriend,” Harvey says.

“Right,” I say. “So, you’re free to do whatever the hell you like.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“Wait.”Knox raises his hands. “You are Dade Connery’s daughter?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“And you never thought to mention this?”

“It wasn’t important.”

“Wasn’t important?”

“Knox,” Jordan says, inching in on her kindergarten teacher voice. “Obviously, this is a sore subject for Addison, and we should respect that.”

“Did you know about this?” he asks her.

Jordan retreats an inch, her answer written in her eyes.

Knox gestures at Bronson. “And you? She lived with your family in high school. Did you know why?”

Bronson stands tall. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Well, I’ll be.” Knox shakes his head at me. “Ain’t that something?”

Mac forcefully clears his throat. “Coming up on the venue here, folks.”

Jordan steps forward. “Show faces on, guys,” she says. “We can talk about this later.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, looking at Harvey. “Harvey’s made his choice. Haven’t you, Harvey?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yup,” he says.

I push off my seat. “Then, that’s that.”

“Addison,” Jordan says softly.

“We have a show,” I say, turning away. I walk into the back, pretending to have something to do.

But really, I’m just swallowing tears.

The show goes on.

Yet again.

It’swild how one can feel like they’re the center of the world and then, suddenly, silence.

One minute, you’re surrounded by thousands of screaming fans. You’re on stage with your band. You’re singing and strumming your guitar, feeling the music as it flows from you like you’re sharing your soul.

And then it’s over.

Silence.

You go back to your hotel. Alone, when you should be celebrating with your chosen family. You’re curled up in a cold bed all by yourself when you should be kissing your lover.

But you’re not.

I’mnot.

I wake up alone on a quiet morning in Austin, Texas. Another show come and gone. Another music festival broken down and packed away until next year. All that’s left to do is get up, take a shower, throw on some lip gloss, and get on the bus toward our next destination.

So, that’s what I do.

I don’t think about the band, though I know I should. I have to explain things to them eventually, but not right now. Right now, it’s pushing a brush through my hair and pulling up the zipper on my jeans. It’s packing up and gulping down a cup of coffee. It’s checking out and getting on the bus.

Don’t think about your friends who hate you for withholding the truth.

Don’t think about the family that doesn’t want you.

Don’t think about Harvey.

Don’t think about Harvey.

Don’t you dare fucking think about Harvey.

With closed eyes and sunglasses on, I listen as the others slowly make their way onto the bus. Jordan first, with Chrissy in tow. Katrina. Jonah. Bronson, who silently gives my shoulder a squeeze as he passes. Knox and Harmony.

“All right,” Jordan says after who knows how long. “Let’s get going, Mac.”

“Wait, where’s Moondog?”

There’s a long pause. I pretend to be asleep, my cheeks burning from their stares.

Jordan answers slowly. “He and August have arranged alternative transportation to New Orleans.”

And that’s that.

Harvey’s made his choice.