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you’re in a boy band . What are you guys called? When do you start recording? Can I meet the other guys?”
    Danny laughed. “No name yet, we’re working on it, I’ll see what I can do about the other guys… and recording? Well, there’s a bit more to it than that.”
    He went on to explain about the TV show and moving to Santa Monica and how he wouldn’t see her much for the next few months. Katie was amazing about it. Danny felt like a shit. He hadn’t even factored her into his decision at all. Not even once. Nor had he told the guys about her. And he’d had chances, when Tate was going on and on about Felicia, when he and Elliot had stayed up all night talking. There had been so many chances. But he hadn’t taken any of them. A hard lump of guilt congealed in Danny’s belly.
     
     
    T HE morning Elliot left for Santa Monica and the Band Camp set dawned unusually cool and cloudy. He hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. It couldn’t be. There was too much riding on this for it not to go well. They’d been in the studio nearly every day, getting better with every session. Elliot loved how their voices worked together. Tate’s was pretty and smooth, Webb’s sexy and low. Reece’s voice was mellow like his accent, and when he and Danny sang together with his low growly voice and Danny’s sweet pure one it was like… perfect. He really didn’t have another word for it. As much as he’d never thought singing was anything more than a secret hobby, after the past few weeks, Elliot couldn’t think of anything in the world he wanted to do more. It had to work. It had to.
    Tate, Webb, Reece, and Danny with his flashy black sports car had all pulled into the parking garage where they’d been told to meet. Everyone greeted each other with hugs. If Elliot hugged Danny a bit too enthusiastically, well, maybe nobody else noticed. They were all jittery, giddy, worried, and happy.
    “You guys ready for this?” he asked.
    Reece laughed. “How the hell should we know what to even be ready for? I’m going with none of us have a fucking clue.”
    “ Reece ,” Tate whispered.
    Elliot chuckled. Tate was already on Reece about his mouth. He didn’t think swearing was good for the nice-guy image. Reece had already told him to shove it about a million times… in the nicest way possible.
    “Guys,” Webb said. “We still need a name.”
    “Damn, we do.” Danny looked around. “Anyone have any more brilliant ideas?”
    They’d been tossing names back and forth in between practice sessions. Nobody had come up with anything they liked.
    “How ’bout Total Symmetry?” Webb said.
    Danny snorted. “Are we a gymnastics team?”
    “Southern Charm?” Reece said.
    “That works for about one fifth of us,” Danny muttered. “Next?”
    “Surf Boys?” Elliot said. The second it left his mouth he knew how stupid it sounded. Everyone burst into laughter, and Tate crouched as if he were on a board.
    “Dumb idea. Sorry.” Elliot laughed too though. That was probably the worst one yet. At the rate they were going their name was going to be No Name.
    “How about Fahrenheit?” Tate offered.
    Webb looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Uh, how ’bout no?”
    “Then you come up with an idea, genius. Something that’s easy to remember and will stick with people. We kinda need it, like, nowish.”
    “Stick to people?” Elliot said. “Like Static?” He figured the name was dumb and they’d shoot it down as they had all the rest, but four sets of eyes shot his way.
    “Static…,” Danny muttered. “I actually kind of like it.”
    “So do I,” Reece added.
    “Static?” Webb asked Tate.
    Tate nodded. “I’m good with that.”
    “Then it’s done. We’re Static.”
    “Just like that?” Elliot asked. He was shocked they hadn’t bickered about it for another fifteen minutes… or two weeks.
    “We had to pick something sometime, didn’t we? Static is good. Let’s go check out our new place, boys.” Danny slung an