Chapter 35
Theo
My legs bounce with restless energy as I wait for the interviewers to fetch us. I tuck my hands under my thighs to stop myself from chewing my fingernails. Twice already Dante has noticed and guided my fingers away from my mouth, and I’m determined not to make him do it again.
This is our third interview in as many days, so the routine is starting to feel familiar.
Dmitri is easily the strongest speaker among us, with his giant smile and well-prepared answers that put everyone at ease.
Eric brings the comic relief with whatever unfiltered thought tumbles out of his mouth, sometimes catching even himself off guard.
Dante handles the administrative questions, answering with hard data and facts in that steady, unflappable way of his.
Tai embodies effortless cool, smirking into the camera and dropping the occasional supportive word that lands perfectly.
And me?
The first interviewer treated me like a mascot—the tiny guy no one expected to play bass. His questions zeroed in on my looks more than my playing. At first I was annoyed, but I did dress to turn heads.
Were the fishnets under my booty shorts too much? Possibly.
Did I rock them anyway? Absolutely.
In fairness, he also spent an absurd amount of time digging into Eric and Dmitri’s engagement, prying for wedding details and asking about honeymoon plans. It felt more like a talk-show special than a music feature.
The second interview was a radio segment, and it was a very different experience.
The host had done his homework, and asked thoughtful, industry-focused questions about our recent album release, the shift from independent to label-backed, our influences, and our aspirations.
We walked away feeling genuinely positive about the whole thing.
Today’s interview is the last one on our schedule, and it’s for a local news station where Monica has a solid connection. We’ll be on camera again, this time with a much larger potential audience.
It’s also live.
Nerves jolt through me like electricity. I lean into Dante’s side, drawing quiet comfort from his solid warmth.
The administrative assistant is named Jazzy, and she pops her head back into the waiting room with a bright smile. “Hey, guys, they’re ready for you.”
We stand and file out, with Dmitri and Dante leading the way.
As we walk, Jazzy explains where we’ll sit and reminds us the interviewer will prep us before we go live.
Once everyone gives a thumbs-up, we’re led to a set with a spacious couch that could comfortably seat three, flanked by two tall high-top chairs positioned behind it.
Tai and I claim the chairs in the back, while Dmitri and Eric settle nearest the interviewer.
Bradley shakes our hands as we get seated. He looks to be in his late twenties and is perfectly polished, but his smile feels artificial. Something about him leaves me faintly uneasy, though I tell myself this is television—everything is a little fake.
He flashes that wide, straining smile. “Hey, guys, I’m a big fan of your work.
Thanks for taking the time to come in and chat today.
” He goes person by person, verifying he’s pronouncing every name right.
After making sure we all have water, he reviews what to expect during the interview.
My anxiety eases gradually, because despite the Ken doll plastic sheen, he seems competent enough.
“Alright, we’ve got a minute until we roll. Anything eleventh-hour we need to discuss?” After a collective shake of heads, he settles back in his chair and waits for the countdown cue.
He beams at the camera. “Welcome, Charlotte, to our weekday edition of Entertainment Today, a segment where we pay tribute to the Queen City’s local legends.
Today we have Falling Absent with us—a long-standing favorite in Charlotte’s music scene who recently found themselves in the national spotlight thanks to some unexpected drama.
Eric, Dmitri, since you were the two main figures in the scandal, care to take this line of questions? ”
He launches straight into the hidden relationship and the leaked confrontation that made it public.
For what feels like the hundredth time, I listen to the emotional audio of Dmitri chasing Eric down the hallway, begging him not to give up on their love while Eric’s headset broadcast it to the entire world.
The two of them smile like lovesick teenagers at each other as they recount the timeline—from the fight to the final concert of the tour, when the audience filled the venue with signs of support for their relationship.
It takes almost ten minutes to get through the discussion, the story winding to its inevitable close with Dmitri’s proposal.
In front of another crowd overflowing with signs begging Eric to marry him, Dmitri had waited on one knee behind his back.
Even after hearing it recounted a thousand times—and after being there to witness every second—it still pulls a soft smile across my face just remembering.
Bradley lets out an exaggerated, dreamy sigh before turning back to the camera. “And that’s the tale that brought Falling Absent into many of our lives, because who can resist that? Truly a love story for the ages.”
He shifts focus to our latest album, pulling up the charts that show its steady climb in the rankings since release. Dmitri and Dante handle most of this part while the rest of us jump in only when a question naturally turns our way.
The interview is clearly winding down, the topics aligning neatly with the ones Monica had prepped us on.
Bradley flips through his note cards, then flashes another winning smile.
“We still have a few minutes left on our time here, so if it’s alright with you, I have a few additional questions I’d like to ask.
Our viewers love to get inside the relationships of the artists they support. ”
Dante and Dmitri exchange a quick glance before nodding.
“Fantastic!” Bradley’s eyes light up. “Theo,” he says as he gives me his full attention. “How do you respond to the recent accusations that have been brought up against you?”
Shock makes me blink several times before I can pull myself together. “Accusations? Against… me? I’m sorry, but I have no clue what you’re referring to.”
The entire band tenses as Bradley’s smile turns smug. “A post has been circulating on social media by someone claiming to be your ex-boyfriend. According to him, he was turned away from your album launch party and then attacked by your bandmate Dante.”
My mouth drops open, but before I can scrape together a single word, Bradley presses on.
“I’m told we have an image to share? Ah, yes, here it is.
” He gestures toward a screen, and my heart slams against my ribs as a picture of Jesse appears.
His nose is clearly broken and his lip is swollen and split, still weeping blood.
“He claims to have been assaulted by Dante in what he refers to as a jealous rage when he showed up as your date. What do you have to say to these allegations?” Dante starts to climb from his seat, but Eric snatches his wrist and holds him down.
Bradley’s eyes flicker briefly to the movement before locking back on me.
The world tilts and spins while I scramble to process what he’s just thrown at me.
My voice comes out thin and unsteady, the churn in my stomach rising so fast I wonder if I’m about to be sick on live television.
“That… that is an extremely false statement. Jesse was not my boyfriend and had not been invited to the party. He forced his way in, even after being detained.”
“Forced in?” Bradley leans forward. “You’re claiming he snuck past your security measures?”
“N-no,” I stammer, shaking my head as I try to pull the words into focus. “Security stopped him, but I, uh… I did give him permission to come inside.”
Bradley scoots his chair closer, excitement barely masked behind his polished veneer. “And what about the state of his face in this picture? Was he beaten up at your launch party?”
“I… he…” Panic surges in my gut, making my throat close tight.
This is it. This is the trap I felt the moment he smiled too wide.
“Did you stand by and let him be attacked?” he presses, the malice behind his eyes finally bare. The walls seem to rush in, close enough that I could throw my hands out and feel them pressing against my palms.
This isn’t right.
This isn’t fair, it isn’t fucking fair, and it’s not right.
He doesn’t get to win.
My mouth opens—to defend myself, to explain, to stop this—but the words are gone. My vision pulses in time with it, darkening at the edges, and I can’t.
I’m too fucking weak to even speak up.
Dante wrenches his wrist free from Eric’s grip and stands, trying to block me with his body. “That’s enough. Theo won’t be saying another word on the matter.”
“What about you, Dante?” Bradley pivots smoothly, turning his attention to him. “Is it true that you assaulted Theo’s date?” He gestures toward the screen, where Jesse’s battered face lingers. “Was that your handiwork?”
“Damn straight it was,” Dante answers without missing a beat, eyes narrowing as he jabs a finger at the photo.
“It’s not my story to tell, but trust when I say he deserved every bit of what he got.
Men who think they’re exempt from the word ‘no’ need to be taught otherwise.
You might be fine with looking the other direction, but I refuse to be a bystander. ”
Bradley’s expression twists at the jab, but Dante adopts his own tactic, and talks right over any attempt to interrupt. “He’s continuously violating an active restraining order against him. Call the police station if you need to verify that. Believe him if you want, but that is not a good man.”
Tears blur my vision as memories flood in.
Jesse’s unwanted touch.
The relentless messages.
The fear I’ve been fighting to bury.
Bradley notices the drops clinging to the corners of my eyes and turns back to me, smile turning venomous. “Theo, is there anything you’d like to add to Dante’s statement?”
I swallow hard, but the tear escapes anyway, sliding down my cheek.
“We’re done,” Eric spits, voice full of acid as the rest of the band closes ranks and shields me from the cameras. I crumble, tears streaming freely now and breath coming in short, ragged gasps as we storm off the set.
Bradley’s voice trails after us, laced with a sick edge of delight. “Well, folks, you’ve seen it here first. Yet another dramatic stunt pulled by Falling Absent. Is it a front? A marketing technique? Will the theatrics work this time? I, for one, am watching to find out.”
The moment we reach the waiting room, my legs give out. I collapse to the floor with the heels of my hands pressing hard into my eyes as if I could push the tears back in. Dante is there in an instant, pulling me against his chest.
“Why would they do this to me?” I sob before burying my face in his shirt as everything breaks loose.
Arms wrap around me from behind, and Tai’s gentle voice murmurs soothing words in my ear, though his own voice cracks with tears. Eric and Dmitri drop to their knees beside us until the four of them surround me completely, holding me together in a tight, protective circle as I fall apart.
We’re still huddled when Monica crashes into the room a few minutes later, phone pressed to her ear and fury blazing in her eyes.
“You tell Ted he has exactly fifteen minutes to call me back or I am making his life a living hell,” she shouts into the receiver, then pauses, face scrunching as she listens.
“What was your name? Yes, Carla, I am very aware he’s the owner of the station.
You will repeat my message word for word and remind him that some very important people owe me several favors, and sweetie?
I’m looking to cash in if I don’t hear from him.
I’ll turn this entire place upside down. Clock’s ticking.”
She ends the call with a sharp jab at the screen and drops to her knees beside us. Eric, Dmitri, and Tai ease back to give her space. Dante pulls me closer, arms locked protectively around me like he’ll never let go.
“Theo?” Her voice is suddenly gentle—the complete opposite of the commanding force we just heard. “Theo, I am so sorry.”
Tears keep streaking down my cheeks, outside my control. “It’s not your fault,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Security told me he’d been kicked out, and that it looked like there’d been a tussle. I was distracted, and I assumed it had been handled. It didn’t occur to me to check if you were okay or take further steps. That is my fault. That’s on me.”
Her gaze flicks up to Dante. “You protected him?”
I feel the faint nod of his head against mine.
Her eyes harden with quiet resolve as she nods back. “Good. Don’t worry about this, okay? Don’t watch the video, don’t read the comments.”
“Trust me, listen to her advice on that,” Eric mutters.
Monica offers him a small, fleeting smile before refocusing on me. “Just take care of yourself, Theo. Leave the rest to me.”
My eyes are swollen and sore as I curl deeper into Dante’s chest, nodding weakly. I glance up at him, finding a storm of heartbreak and rage churning in his gaze. “Can you take me home? I just… I just want to go home.”
“Of course,” he whispers, fingers raking gently through my hair.
He shifts, wobbling slightly as he stands while still cradling me against him, but his grip never loosens.
“Give ‘em hell,” he tells Monica over his shoulder before sweeping me out of the room and carrying me to his SUV, whisking me away from the world that’s so determined to hurt me.