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for Josh!”
    It was pretty thick, even for Toby, but the guests responded with serious applause. Of course, everyone also knew that Josh’s parents were hosting this blowout, so it was hard to say exactly who was kissing whose ass here.
    I was a little surprised when I heard them start our usual opening number, but it made sense—there was no way they’d had time to learn many new tunes. Josh had probably been cramming just to learn the existing set list.
    And apparently he’d done his homework. At least, he played the right parts. But it was like he thought his drums might break if he hit them too hard, and that song calls for the drummer to
slam
the toms and snare at the beginning. And the music seemed to surge ahead and pull back, like there wasn’t a steady anchor under it.
    I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. The production quality of the mix was good, and the tone from those beautiful drums was totally sweet. But … I don’t know. It didn’t have that tight, confident pocket that solid rhythm sections have. Okay, near the end he did this busy double-kick thing that I couldn’t have played. Even if I had a five-hundred-dollar DW double pedal. Which I didn’t.
    Anyway, I thought that maybe they’d work the kinks out during their first tune, but the next song was more of the same. And the third one seemed downright weak.
    But maybe it was just me. I glanced around and tried to read the crowd. The guests were paying attention, and therewas polite applause after each song, but no one was dancing or even bobbing their head much. It was a tough call, so I looked to someone who wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that it either
was
or
was not
happening—the bass player.
    Kyle was up there doing his part, and he was trying to move with the music, but from where I stood, it wasn’t flying. Whenever things were really in the pocket, he used to put one foot up on something—either a stage wedge or sometimes my kick drum—and he’d close his eyes and just freakin’
play
. But tonight he was looking from Josh to Justin, then down at his hands, then back to Josh, and his eyes were open the whole time … maybe a little wider than they should have been.
    I caught Kimber’s eye and nodded my head away from the stage like,
Let’s get out of here
. When we were far enough away that we could talk, I looked at her and raised my eyebrows.
    “They’re a dog in a dress” was her reply.
    “Huh?”
    “Take a dog. Wash it, blow-dry it, brush it out. Spray French perfume all over it. Shove an expensive blond wig on its head. Put bright red lipstick on its muzzle. Then put it in a sleek little black dress. What’ve you got?”
    “Hey, this is your kinky little scenario. You tell me.”
    “A dog.”
    I smiled. “I thought maybe it was just me. Uh, but Josh
did
do some stuff that was pretty technical on that first tune. Stuff that was beyond me …”
    “You’re kidding me, right? Is there any doubt that they sounded way stronger with you?”
    I shrugged. “I thought we sounded better than that, but … but that’s what the pathetic loser who can’t stay away
would
think, isn’t it?”
    She grabbed both my arms and looked me in the eye. “Listen to me. You are
not
a loser. Not even remotely close, not in any way. And you totally kick Josh’s ass on the drums.”
    I was kind of taken aback by her intensity. “Uh … thanks.”
    “I mean it.” She let go of me and shook her head. “My brother can be such a moron.”
    I looked around. “I’ve seen enough. You ready to go?”
    “Sounds good.”
    I suppose I should have been happy about what I’d just seen and heard. But really, it only made me feel worse. I mean, if my replacement had sounded totally pro, at least that would have made sense. But to get kicked to the curb for
this
? Was it really about Josh’s parents being bucks-up and throwing a few parties where the band could play?
    Whatever. It was clearly a permanent