His expression and tone were so condescending, I almost told him to go to hell. Instead, I sneered, “Don’t worry about me, I got this.”

He furrowed his brows, like I’d somehow lost him with my statement. “So, from what I understand, Kellan here handles the lyrics, Matt, aside from being one of the most gifted guitarists I’ve ever heard, works on managing and promoting the band, and Evan handles the melodies. What is it that you do again?”

I was both pleased to finally be talking about myself and irritated that this guy was insinuating I had no value. His question was also disturbingly close to Matt’s complaints about me. Kellan started spouting some bullshit PC answer, but I interrupted him. “I’m the heart and soul of the band. The people person. The crowd-pleaser.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows, then nodded. “Oh, I guess that makes sense. In my experience, the person with the least amount of musical talent is generally thrust into the role of spokesman, and you definitely seem like the type who can shoot the breeze for hours. Odd though…why have you been so quiet this whole time? Letting Kellan take the lead?”

Did he just insult me? I couldn’t quite follow what he was saying, but it seemed like he’d just praised me and put me down. “I was just waiting for a good question,” I told him.

A spark of something flared in his eyes, and the crowd got really, really quiet. Matt grabbed my arm and tugged, trying to convey some silent message, but I didn’t care. This guy was a jackass.

“Oh, so sorry if you found talking about your career to be on the boring side. Is there something you’d rather be talking about than the work that’s pulled you from the depths of obscurity, where I’m sure you would be neck-deep in mediocrity without it?”

Again, I couldn’t follow him. If he was going to call me lame, why couldn’t he just fucking say it? Kellan asked, “How about we play another song for you?” but both Johnny and I ignored him.

I decided to be blunt, since Johnny couldn’t be. “What’s your beef with me, dude?”

Johnny steepled his fingers on his desk. “Beef? No beef. Just conducting an interview. It’s what I do.” He lowered his fingers so they all pointed at me. “I’m just trying to figure out what you do, that’s all. It might seem to an outside observer that you in no way contribute to the band. It might seem that you are riding the coattails of your bandmates’ talents. To someone on the outside looking in, it might seem that you don’t belong here. It’s my job to give you an opportunity to refute that.”

That’s when my anger flared and my restraint cracked. Dick couldn’t call me worthless without repercussions. Pulling my phone out, I held the screen up to him. “Want to know what this was? A job. I’m going to be the lead actor on what is probably going to be the hottest TV show on the planet. What do you think about my talent now, jerk off?”

Every single person in the studio turned to stare at me. Oh shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that here, but oh well. It was done now. Johnny’s mouth dropped open, and it was a full five seconds before he could speak. His eyes were sparkling though, like I’d just created a mega-holiday, just for him—Halloween, Christmas, and his birthday all rolled up into one shiny package of talk-show gold. “TV, huh? Good luck with that. But what about the band? What will you do once you’re a ‘successful’ actor?”

My mind flashed back to the numerous rejections and disappointments I’d had recently. Kellan’s voice rang in my ear: Not tonight, maybe tomorrow. Matt’s condemnation trickled through my mind: I can’t think of one thing that you actually do for the band. Even Johnny’s thoughts echoed through my head: You don’t belong here.

Just as I was contemplating how to tell the guys I might have to leave them one day if the show got big enough, Matt opened his mouth. “Don’t be stupid, Griffin. You can’t take an acting job right now. Call them back and tell them no.”

Anger ran up my spine, heating my skin and making every hair on my body stand on end. I was so sick and tired of him telling me what to do, holding me back. They all fucking held me back. Well, no more. I was making my own mark on the world, starting today.

Standing up, I ripped the mic off my clothes and dropped it onto the chair. “I quit. I quit this interview, I quit this band, I quit this life. You can all go to hell.” And with that, I walked off the set.

Chapter 11

Awesome Does What Awesome Needs to Do

My phone began buzzing before I was ten feet from the stage. I was so ticked, I wanted to ignore it, but I couldn’t; when I glanced at the screen, I saw it was Anna. Fucking hell. Even though I was fuming, a knot of dread started growing in my stomach. I should not have just done that on live TV. I should have held it in until I could talk to her first, like I knew she wanted me to. Shit, now I was going to have to tell her I lied. She was going to kill me.

“Hello?”

“What the hell did you just do…on national TV?” Her voice was strained and rough, like a volcano churning with molten lava, waiting to explode. On me. How the hell was I going to explain myself without her flying off the deep end? And how far off the deep end would she go? Fuck. This was supposed to be my moment…I needed her beside me.

Wading past people who were holding their hands up trying to stop me, I tried to deflect the rampage I felt coming with confident nonchalance. This is no big deal. “Relax, everything is fine. I don’t need this gig. I’ve got a TV thing in the bag. They want to start filming on Monday, so as soon as I get back, we’re grabbing the girls and heading to L.A.” Walking to the greenroom, I stepped inside and closed the door. I wanted to be alone when my wife erupted.