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skateboarding tricks.” He had spent the next two months playing the drums from a wheelchair. The time before that, O’Connor’s grandmother died. He was pretty much convinced that L.A. was cursed.
    He shucked his cardigan as he headed for the door, readying himself for the mid-summer heat. Maybe he could take the day tomorrow and go to the beach. Maybe he could learn how to surf. The day after that, they would be on a bus to San Francisco.
    James jogged up behind him. “Hey, man, wait a second.” He glanced over his shoulder at Rushani, who was still gathering her things. “Let’s go out into the lobby.”
    “Sure,” O’Connor said. He knew what James wanted to talk to him about: keep your mouth shut and your pants zipped up. Completely unnecessary, but it would make James feel better. Bossing people around was his favorite form of stress relief.
    The lobby was empty. James shut the door to the audition room behind them and said, “About this girl.”
    “Leah,” O’Connor said. “You can say her name. I’m not going to freak out.”
    “Is this a new thing for you?” James asked. “You don’t usually… I mean, I’m the last person in the world who would judge you for hooking up with randoms. But you don’t . Ever. So I’m just wondering, you know…”
    “If I’m going to start pulling an Andrew?” O’Connor asked. He didn’t want to talk about it. “No. It was just a thing. It isn’t a big deal. She’ll be a good bassist. We’ll get along fine. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
    She had kissed him, leaning in, fearless.
    It wasn’t a big deal.
    * * *
    The door opened and closed. Luka’s keys landed in the bowl beside the door. Great. He was home just in time to witness Leah’s crushing defeat.
    She heard paper rustling—probably Luka sorting the mail. “How’d it go?”
    Leah stayed where she had landed, face-down on the sofa. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “I can’t hear you when you’re talking to the couch cushions,” Luka said.
    “Fine,” Leah said. She sat up. “It was terrible. Okay? Are you happy?”
    “Terrible, huh? Did they confiscate your bass on the spot?” Luka rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard you cry wolf about this shit too many times to take you seriously.”
    “It wasn’t terrible because of that,” Leah said. “I mean, it probably was. Like, they’re not going to give me the job or anything, but... I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Whatever,” Luka said. “Bryce is coming over for dinner.”
    “Okay,” Leah said. That was the first good news she’d had all day. If Bryce was coming over for dinner, that meant Bryce was cooking dinner, which meant Leah would get to eat actual food that didn’t come out of a box. Luka could make coffee, scrambled eggs, and instant noodles, and basically nothing else. He was pretty terrible at cooking, and Leah was even worse.
    Bryce, on the other hand, was in culinary school. That was what he’d decided to do after their band fell apart, after Corey and everything after; after they’d moved back to L.A. with their tails between their legs, broke and homeless, and started putting their lives back together. “I’m done with the music business,” he said, and registered at Le Cordon Bleu the next day.
    That was a good thing that happened. After Corey. Bryce had never liked touring. He seemed a lot happier now.
    Everyone seemed happier now, really. Leah was the only one who couldn’t move on from what had happened. Luka was managing a few bands that were starting to get some attention in the local music scene, and Mateo was playing with, like, four or five different bands and teaching lessons on the side, and he seemed happy as a clam.
    It was sickening. Leah didn’t understand how they could all just get over it so quickly. They spent three years putting everything they had into the band, their blood and guts and sweat, and then it was over, just like that. In a second. And there was no