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said, wiping tears from beneath her eyes.
    Leah recognized the hard edge to her laughter. It was what you did when the only alternative was utter despair.
    “It’s just the truth,” James said. “We can afford it, Rushani, come on. I want her to know what she’s getting into so we don’t have to find a second replacement bassist.”
    “You’re right,” Rushani said. “Okay. Well. Leah, that’s all there is to it. Andrew can be pretty terrible. The rest of us, I think, are not so bad to be around. We have nice buses. We eat good food. You’ll be paid well. I hope you won’t turn us down.”
    Leah knew the smart thing to do was to politely decline and be on her way. She hadn’t called her boss yet. Her job would still be waiting for her on Monday morning. But James’ appeal had stirred something in her, the part of her that remembered what it was like to care about fans, to want nothing more in the world than to get on stage and see someone’s awestruck face gazing up at her. She could tell that James had that some passion in him. He cared about the music. She thought it would be nice to make music with someone like that again.
    “There’s just one thing,” she said, and felt herself flushing. “I sort of, uh.” This was mortifying, but she had to spit it out. “The other guy in your band—I don’t know his name…”
    “O’Connor,” James said. “Don’t worry about it. He already told us.”
    “Oh, God,” Leah moaned, and buried her face in her hands.
    “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” Rushani said, her voice very kind. “These things happen.”
    “Well, it was a mistake,” Leah said, “and I don’t want you to think I was—I don’t know. Sneaking around, or trying to hide anything. It won’t happen again. Not while we’re on tour.”
    James had been leaning forward, elbows on his knees, but now he sat up and turned his head toward Rushani.
    “I see you looking at me,” Rushani said.
    Leah said, “I really had no idea—”
    “Girl, get over it,” James said. “You made out with him at a bar. That is basically the tamest hook-up imaginable. Nobody is going to judge you. As long as it doesn’t happen on tour, we’re golden. You know how things can get messy.”
    “I know,” Leah said grimly. Experience was the best teacher.
    “All right,” Rushani said. “Should we sign the paperwork, then?”
    Leah went through the contract very carefully, but there was nothing at all suspicious about it. All of the clauses were standard. She would receive a flat rate, not a percentage of tour proceeds. If she backed out within the first two weeks, she forfeited 75% of her pay. She would receive no royalty payments from current or future album sales. Et cetera. She flipped to the final page and scrawled her signature on the line.
    When she looked up, James was standing in front of her with a large and very impressive camera. “Let me just get a few pictures.”
    Leah raised one hand to touch her face. “What? Now?”
    “Now,” he said. “I’ve already drafted a blog post about you. We need to push this out through social media so the fans aren’t taken by surprise in San Francisco. If I do it right, they’ll actually be looking forward to seeing you.”
    “Right,” Leah said. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and wished she had worn some earrings. “Okay.”
    “Say cheese,” James said.
    Someone knocked on the door.
    “I’ll get it,” Rushani said, and hopped up.
    Leah was facing the door, and so she was looking right at him when he came through the door. The guy, her guy. O’Connor.
    “Okay, brooding and tormented works,” James said, and took the first picture.
    * * *
    O’Connor loitered by the bathroom, feeling awkward, while James conducted his impromptu photo shoot. He had been—okay. He had been hiding in his room, talking to one of his brothers on the phone. He hadn’t expected her to still be here. Leah. But there she was, and it would look