CHAPTER ONE
NASH

The beeping of my alarm jolts me awake. Just like every other morning since this damn pandemic started, I’m surprised by how much I miss the sound of our mechanics tinkering with the tour busses in the morning. My hand slaps at the nightstand until I find the snooze button. With no shows lined out, or artists scheduled in the studio later today, the only thing on my plate is a virtual music lesson. Teaching those kids is the best part of my day. Truth be told, I learn more from them than I could ever teach. I’ve got plenty of time to hit the snooze button, since that class isn’t for another six hours. I sink back into my pillow ready to let sleep take me over again. Just as everything starts to fog over my smart speaker lets out an ear-piercing screech-ding, sending a shudder down my spine and rolls me right out of my comfortable pillow fortress. I land with a thud on the floor.

“Nash, I know you’re there.” My fist immediately balls up in a reflex to Travis’s voice coming through the speaker, but I don’t make a move. If he hears anything at all it’ll give away the fact I am actually here. Maybe I can fake him out. I gargle out a deep snore and cringe. That was definitely not my best performance. “Dude,” he screeches. “This is serious.”

“If you were here, I swear I would punch you right in the nose,” I grumble as I pull myself to my feet.

“Cool,” he snorts. “Like you could get a hit in. I always win those bro battles.”

He’s such a damned liar. Okay, maybe he won the last one; but that was only because I was going on two hours of broken 

sleep. I don’t handle anxiety in the healthiest of ways and this year has been nothing but a giant shit-show sending my anxiety through the roof. Sleep is one of those things I either get too much or not enough of. “What is so important, Trav?”

“I have to wait fifteen minutes after getting the vaccine before I can leave. I needed someone to talk to.”

Are you effing kidding me? “This is what was so serious?”

“Yup.”

“You’re still living with Adair, right?”

“You know I am, until he and Carly tie the knot—officially. Not that little side of the road wedding they had a few months ago.”

“Right.” I clear my throat ahem. “So, call your roommate.” My hand hovers over the off button on top of the speaker.

“I can’t. And don’t you dare hang up on me,” he yells. I imagine him trapped inside the speaker and I can’t help but laugh at the thought of a tiny Travis throwing a hissy fit from inside the small disc that’s no larger than a coaster.

He grumbles something as my phone vibrates across the nightstand. Incoming call from Travis, flashes on the screen. I smack the disconnect button on the speaker and tap to open the video chat. “It’s about time,” he says, with a look of complete satisfaction on his face, like he’s won the bet of the day. “I need to talk to someone, and I can’t call Adair because he’s off tasting wedding cakes with Carly. I told them to pick the Oreo flavor.”

“Of course, you did.” I rub my eyes hoping my annoying youngest brother on the other side of my screen will somehow disappear when I do. “What do you need, Travis? I have a class to prep for.”

He gives me a deadpan glare through the screen. “That class doesn’t start for almost six hours. You’re fine. Does my tongue look swollen to you?” He sticks his tongue out forcing me to look at it.

Ugh. “Dude, are you high?”

“No.” His eyes widen in feigned shock. “You know I don’t touch the stuff. I just have to monitor myself for this list of symptoms,” he says, holding up a bright orange paper with a list of potential warning signs of anaphylactic shock. “And I don’t know what size my tongue was before, so I thought maybe…” He changes his positioning so he can check his tongue from all sides in the camera.

Gross. “Can you swallow?”

“Yes.”

“You’re fine.”

He nods, checking for himself in the rearview mirror one more time.

“Honestly, dude, I don’t know how you let them pump that stuff in you so soon.”

His face twists into a scowl. “I get you wanting to wait for more info, especially after you had that reaction when we were kids, but this is just something I felt like I had to do.”

“I respect that.” He may be the resident Amaryllis wild card, but he does have a moral code he follows, even if none of the rest of us have a damn clue what it is. “It looks like you’re doing just fine with it.”

“This is my second dose, and it’s also my last chance to talk to the nurse who gave it to me.”

He also follows his dick. A deep belly laugh tumbles out despite my trying to hold it back. “I should have known it had to do with a girl.”

“It might be her!” he says with all the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. “I mean, I can’t be sure—” his eyebrows scrunch together as he squints in his rearview mirror.

“Her? As in Master Wang’s her?” I stifle my chuckle this time. I’m quite proud of myself for being able to manage that.

If you’re wondering who her might be… It started late last year when our other brother Griffin got married. We took a detour through Las Vegas to throw off the press, so they could have a quiet ceremony—sans paparazzi—in our hometown. While we were in Vegas trying to make it back to the airport without being caught, Travis saw a street performer and became enamored with his little schtick. He almost blew our cover too. But the dude claimed to be able to draw anyone’s soul mate after meeting them, even though he spends less than a whole minute in their presence before he starts on the drawing. He said it was something about energy and auras and stuff I don’t understand, but when Travis showed him a picture of Griffin the guy turned around and created a perfect representation of London James, the exact same woman who was Griffin’s fiancé at the time and is now his wife with a baby bump. Adair tried to write it off because the press was all over them when they first started dating.

Even though I’m typically a skeptic, something tells me the elderly man who spends all of his time on the Las Vegas street corner making art for a living might not have time to fill his mind with gossip rags. Who’s to say, though?

Travis bought his gimmick hook line and sinker. He asked him to draw each of our soulmates.

For Adair, Master Wang drew Carly who is off tasting wedding cakes with Adair right now. For me, he drew Ainsley Meyer. Ainsley happens to be Carly’s best friend and has been a constant figure around Amaryllis since she met Carly. I’m not complaining. Travis’s soulmate was a little more difficult. Go figure. The guy drew an image of the back of a woman’s head. I could not have laughed harder. It’s everything Travis deserves for just being… well, for being Travis. It’s been driving him to the brink ever since. I can’t think of anyone better for this wild goose chase than my youngest brother.

“Let me give you a little brotherly wisdom here, okay?”

He nods, keeping his eyes focused on the rearview mirror.

“Are you trying to scope her out while I’m talking to you?” I ask him.

His face turns red as a grimace creeps across his face. “Maybe,” he groans.

“You’re hopeless.” I shake my head, reaching for my shoes stuffed under the side of my bed. “Listen, I was going to tell you to quit following this scavenger hunt you’ve been on for the last year; but I know you, and I know you won’t. So, with that being said, if you want to impress her then maybe you should make some grand gesture.”

“What kind of grand gesture?”

I shrug. “Who knows? You’re the one who stays up all night watching the reality shows where they pass out roses. You’ll know what to do when the right one comes along. Until then, relax.”

“How do you know I watch those shows?” he squeaks. “Did Adair tell you?”

“Of course, Adair told me. Did you actually expect him to keep your little secrets?”

A deep groan echoes through the phone’s speakers. “As long as the press doesn’t get a hold of it. I’m trying to change my image from the baby of the band to the bad boy of the band,” he says, letting his voice drop a couple of octaves. “Now that Adair is getting married, I might have a chance of it being believable.”

“Right.” My head hurts from how far my eyes rolled back in my head. “You’re on the right track, Romeo.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles, jumping in his seat as a gorgeous brunette taps on his window. “Uh… Just a second, Nash.”

I just nod and settle in for what’s guaranteed to be an amazing show. I wish I had some popcorn right now.

Her eyes dart back and forth from Travis to staring directly into his phone’s screen at me. He must have the phone mounted on his dashboard. I plaster on a cheesy smile and give an exaggerated wave. “Don’t mind me. I’m just the older brother. He was kind of freaking out over the possible side effects.”

“Shh,” Travis scolds me and taps the screen. I assume he hit the mute button because I can still see them but don’t hear my voice coming through on the other side anymore.

Fine. I can wait.

“I’m sorry to intrude like this—”

“No,” Travis interrupts, because that’s always a great move when you’re trying to ask someone out. “You’re fine. I mean it’s fine. I mean—” he stammers.

Lame.

She giggles as she tucks a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. “I was wondering if I could ask you for a huge favor, since you know I just jammed a huge needle in your arm.”

Ha! I like her already.

“Of course,” Travis replies, ready and willing to do anything to find the woman in the portrait sketch.

“My boyfriend—”

Travis chokes on his spit. He’s coughing up a lung, doubled over with his hand slapping against the steering wheel.

Her eyebrows pinch together as she tries to figure out what’s wrong with him. “Are you okay? Coughing isn’t usually a side effect, but maybe we should take you inside. Your throat might be closing—”

“I’m.” Cough “Fine.” he finally chokes out. “Anyway, about your boyfriend?” he asks, pulling it together. I recognize the stage persona taking over. He’s always been a good showman.

“He’s a massive fan and his birthday is next week. I was just wondering if you would mind signing this for him.” She holds up one of our first releases on the indie label we signed with before The Machine dug their claws into us.

Travis reaches for the album and pulls a black marker out of his console. “Sure thing.” He scribbles something on it along with his signature and hands it back to her, while wearing that fake grin that makes him look like Jared Leto’s Joker. Even as his brother, that look creeps me out. It’s like he’s one second away from snapping. He nods and flicks one finger up in that butt-hurt wave that guys do sometimes, while the window silently rolls up like he’s blocking the outside world from invading the cab of his truck. He taps the screen releasing me from my muted prison. I assume my deep belly laugh comes through almost immediately from the glare he’s giving me.

“Sor—ry,” I choke out, trying to stop laughing, but I just can’t help myself. “Okay, okay. I’m better now.”

“I’m so glad you’re better now,” Travis says through a sneer. “Guess she’s not the one from the sketch, huh?”

“Sorry, bro.” I swipe my phone’s screen and shoot a message over to Ainsley. She’s been a really good… friend, since we started spending more time together after Griffin and London’s wedding. I barely knew her before that night, but we’ve been talking almost every night since. The only nights we miss are when she goes to spend time with her sister. They only seem to get together once every month or so; but since the pandemic that’s been much less frequent. It’s kind of strange, I guess, but everyone’s family tree is different. It might be weird to some people that I spend almost twenty-four hours a day with my brothers because we’re all dedicated to this Amaryllis thing.

Griffin’s face flashes on the screen, which shoves Travis into a tiny box in the bottom corner of my screen. I laugh and silently shake my head, while watching him roll through the face filters. I tap the button to let Griffin join the chat just as Travis’s face morphs into a fluffy white cat. “What’s up, dude?” Travis asks from his Brady Bunch-esque square on my screen. “I’m totally not a cat. I’m here live.”

“Right,” Griffin snorts and just shakes his head. “I was almost afraid Mittens had eaten you for a second.”

“Who the hell is Mittens?” Travis asks.

“You tell me.” Griffin’s face distorts in a confused scowl. “You’re the one in the cat suit.”

“Guys,” I interrupt the brotherly lovefest. “You are both tying up my phone and I do kind of need to get ready for my class, so—”

Travis rolls his eyes and lets out a low groan. “You literally have hours before you have to get ready.”

“Or I could hit the end button right now and send both of you back to the cyber-verse, so I can go back to bed for another hour.” I glance over at my pillows. “Yep, that sounds like a great idea.” I go to reach for the button just as Griffin lets out a screeching “Wait!”

“What?” I growl.

Griffin taps the camera button, so it flips to show us a hotel room where it looks like his suitcase has exploded on the floor.

“Dude, aren’t you supposed to be at the airport, right now? Your flight leaves in a half an hour.”

“I’m well aware of that, Travis. Thank you.” He rolls his eyes and lets out a snicker. “Apparently, our fearless leaders have announced some travel restrictions.”

“Let me guess,” I groan, dragging my hand down my face. “They banned international travel until numbers go down?”

“Something like that.” He shrugs. “I have to supply two negative tests within a twenty-four-hour period, and wouldn’t you know it, they don’t have any rapid tests available right now because they recalled them.”

Travis does the simple math on his fingers. “Does that mean you’re going to miss the live performance on the Late Show tomorrow night?”

“Yes, Travis. It means exactly that.” Griffin shakes his head and looks genuinely upset. “I’ve never missed a show in my life.”

He shouldn’t have to miss this one either. So many things went wrong in the world’s response to this situation, it’s made a lot of people feel helpless. This doesn’t have to be one of those moments though. “What if you didn’t have to miss the show?”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Travis seems to get the idea first. “Maybe they can just Zoom us into the show, then they can add you into the call and it should be fine.”

“Exactly.” This is an idea that could work. Maybe. “I’ll call the show’s producer later. They reached out wanting to confirm last night, but it was too late to return the call when I got the message. I’ll just casually throw it into the conversation and see what happens.”

“What could go wrong?” Griffin asks with a snort. “In the meantime, I’m going to work on the lyrics to this melody that’s been thumping me in the back of my mind since I’ve been here.”

“You do that. Stay safe.” I tap to end the chat and check my phone’s messages.

I’m not going to lie. It’s been nice having another adulty adult in our little dysfunctional family circle. Now that Travis and Griffin’s unexpected quarantine are handled—hopefully—we need to get to work on a plan to keep Amaryllis above water. This new normal thing is getting kind of old, and we all invested every single penny into this venture. I don’t think any of us are ready to give up, but we are running out of reserves and have a lot of people counting on us. I make a note on my phone to discuss business with the guys as soon as Griffin is back in Tulsa.