Page 18 of Down Beat

“You’re still on.”

I halt, earning a frown from Kendall. “I’m what?”

“You’re still playing.” He can barely contain his excitement.

“Stop fucking with me, John. When? When am I playing?”

“Tomorrow night.”

My silence urges him on.

“I got a call from Dark Tide’s manager, and he said they want you to open for them.”

“Look,” I snap. “I appreciate you’re trying to break me out of this mood with black humor, but fuck it, John, I wanted that concert. Playing a prank isn’t going to cheer me up.”

“It’s not a prank,” he levels. “They’re serious. I don’t know what the hell happened—maybe they looked you up on YouTube—but they want you to open for their concert. It’s only a few people, not as big as they’re used to, but it’s good for you.”

“And the tickets we sold?” I slouch against the front of the building.

Kendall stands before me, hands on hips.

“They get transferred over.”

Holy shit. “How does that even work?” I ask. “I play classical, they’re rock.”

“I don’t know. I’m the messenger, that’s all. You need to talk to them about the logistics. I’ll email you their contact details in a few.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I’m still hesitant to believe it. None of it makes sense.

“I’ll be in touch later.”

John disconnects, leaving me staring at the phone in my hand.

“What’s happened?”

I look up and meet Kendall’s concerned eyes. “I’m still playing.”

“Huh?”

“I’m opening for Dark Tide.”

“Holy shit.”

Yep. Holy shit.