"Today?" I nearly fall off the couch arm in my haste to stand, putting blessed distance between myself and Phoenix. "You didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention this earlier?”
"I'm telling you now."
"Rex, it's eleven-thirty!"
"Then you have two and a half hours to prepare."
I want to strangle him. The urge is familiar, comfortable even—much easier to navigate than whatever the hell is happening with Phoenix.
"Preparehow?" I demand. "What does preparing even mean in this context? Should we rehearse? Put on suits? Bake cookies?"
"Don't bake anything," Phoenix says quickly. "Remember last time."
I turn to glare at him. "That wasonekitchen fire?—"
"The fire department came, Raf."
Bells stands, cutting through our bickering with the kind of authority she's been wielding more and more lately. "Okay. Here's what we do. We shower. We put on clothes that don't look like we slept in them."
She doesn't look at me, but she doesn't have to. I'm acutely aware that I'm wearing yesterday's polo, rumpled and probably smelling like the cigarette I snuck on the fire escape at 3 AM.
"And we act like professionals who have their shit together," she finishes.
"Bold of you to assume we have our shit together," Phoenix mumbles.
"We're going tofakeit." She plants her hands on her hips, and for a moment I see it. The frontman she's becoming, the leader we didn't know we needed. "This guy's job is to help us tour. That's it. He's not here to judge us or spy on us or sabotage anything. He wants the tour to succeed becausehissuccess depends on it."
Rex's eye narrows again, but this time it's not directed at Phoenix and me. He's reassessing her.
"She's right," he says after a moment. "Carmine needs us to perform well. That aligns his interests with ours."
"For now," I add, because someone has to be the voice of cynicism around here.
"For now is all that matters."
The room settles into something that's not quite agreement but isn't active resistance either.
"Two o'clock," Bells repeats. "Everyone get really normal, really fast.”
She heads for her room. Rex disappears toward the studio without another word.
Which leaves Phoenix and me.
Alone.
The silence stretches between us, thick and charged. I should go. Should shower, find a clean shirt, do literally anything other than stand here marinating in awkwardness.
"I need to find a shirt," I say quickly, already moving.
"Raf, can we just talk about…"
"Two o'clock, man. We only have two hours."
I'm halfway down the hall before he can respond, heart pounding against my ribs.
Coward, I think.
But I keep walking anyway.