The heat in their voices surprised me. I’d been expecting nothing but congratulations from the fans. “What the fuck are you going on about? I’m switching one awesomeness for another, that’s all.”

“You’re changing the band!” One red-faced girl shouted at me. “You’re ruining everything! How do you sleep at night, knowing you destroyed the D-Bags!”

I stared at her, dumbstruck. Ruining everything? I was making it better. For me, anyway. And I slept just fine, thank you very much. I was about to tell her that when a voice from the middle of the bar broke through the chatter.

“Yeah, Griffin! How do you sleep, knowing you fucked over the people who gave you the great life you resent so much?”

I looked over the various heads surrounding me until I found the owner of the voice. Matt. I should have known. He was standing near another clump of people, holding a beer and sneering at me like I was committing a sin just by being here. Rachel was with him, and by the way she was supporting him, I figured Matt was plastered. That would explain the outburst. Matt generally didn’t like to attract attention to himself.

Shoving some customers out of the way, I strode forward. “You got something to say to me, cuz?”

Matt tapped a finger against his jaw. “I’m not sure…but I think I just said it.” He turned to Rachel. “I was speaking out loud, right?”

Rachel sighed, then said something quietly and tugged on his arm. She looked like she didn’t want to be here anymore. I kind of agreed, but I was too mad to leave. “Screw you, Matt. I’m only doing this because you left me no other choice.”

Matt’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he started storming toward me; the fans between us quickly got out of the way, and Rita at the bar warned us to be good or she wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops on our asses. I glanced over to see her summoning the bar’s bouncer. I didn’t have time to worry about it though, because Matt had reached me, and he was pissed enough and blitzed enough that he wasn’t happy stopping with verbally assaulting me.

With both hands against my chest, he shoved me backward. I stumbled but caught myself. “Dude! Lighten the fuck up,” I snapped.

He let out a sardonic laugh. “Lighten up? You fucked the band three weeks before our album dropped. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. I always knew you were a piece of work, but I had no idea what a fucking fucker you were until now. But you know what, it doesn’t fucking matter. We’ll replace your ass and move on. It will be easy as can be; I know a dozen guys who would love to have what you just threw away.”

He was in my face, shouting at me like I’d gone deaf or something. His words were tiny logs being set on my internal fire, stoking me piece by piece. If he didn’t shut his piehole soon, I was going to shut it for him. “Cool it, Matt. I’m just about done with you.”

His face turned incredulous. “Just about? I thought you were done. Well, I am too. We’re no longer family. You’re dead to me, asshole. And the D-Bags are better off without you!”

That did it. My body reacted before my mind could process what was happening. My entire arm tensed, my fingers curled into a rigid ball, and then I pulled back the coiled power and released it. My fist connected with Matt’s jaw and he spun to the ground. Rachel was instantly by his side.

Once she saw he was okay, she stared up at me with wide, horrified eyes. “Have you lost your mind!” she shouted.

Hovering over Matt, I shook my head. “No. I finally found it. And I’m finally seeing my ‘friend’s’ true colors. So much for blood being thicker than water.” I wanted to spit on Matt, but I thought better of it. He wasn’t worthy of my saliva.

The bar’s bouncer wrapped his fingers around my biceps and pulled me back. Turning my head, I spat out, “Let go of me, asswipe. I’m done pummeling him.”

The man, who could have been Sam’s twin, gruffed, “You’ll be done when you’re outside.” He manhandled me past the crowd that was booing me. Booing me. I almost couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing. Were they all drunk? Matt had started that shit; I’d only been defending myself. He was the bully here, not me.

As I was being dragged away, I shouted back at Matt, “Oh, by the way, I’m taking my name with me. You can’t use D-Bags! That was mine!”

I saw Matt scrambling to his feet. He followed us, spouting, “No, that’s not true. Your idea was Douchebags. I’m the one who suggested shortening it. It’s my name!”

I sneered at him; he had a trail of blood running out of the corner of his mouth from where my aching fist had connected with him. “We’ll let the lawyers settle this one.”

Matt put a hand on my shoulder. The bouncer told him to back off, but Matt ignored him. “You’re already quitting the band…don’t kill it too.”

With a sneer, I tossed out, “What do you need my name for anyway? Just call yourselves Kellan’s Bitches, ’cause that’s what you are.”

Matt stopped moving with us, and the crowd soon swallowed him up. But not before I heard him mutter, “Enjoy Hollywood, Griff.”

“I plan to,” I shot back, then Blockhead unceremoniously shoved me out the front doors. I landed on the cement in a painful pile.

“Don’t come back,” he ordered. “You’re officially banned from the premises.”

My hands were scraped and bleeding, and my elbow felt on fire, but ignoring my aches, I shot to my feet. “You couldn’t pay me to come back to this dump,” I sneered.