Chapter One

Maggie

The silence in my apartment is deafening.

For years, my life has been a soundtrack of screaming fans, basslines thumping through my chest, and my sisters’ voices harmonizing with mine. Now? There’s nothing but the quiet hum of the heater and the faint murmur of a television from another apartment.

The Pandemonium Pixies are on a hiatus. Rosie is embracing being a wife and mother and Phoebe’s twins just turned one. Our last tour was a crazy ride with their husbands and children along for the ride. I love my nieces and nephew, but touring with babies is bonkers.

And me? I’m still trying to figure out where I fit in a world without matching outfits and choreographed numbers. I know we’ll always be sisters, but we will never be the same regarding the band and surprisingly I think we are all okay with that.

The truth is, I’ve always wanted to do something different. I think we all have, but The Pandemonium Pixies turned into something we never could have imagined. I’m thankful for every opportunity I’ve been given, but I want to do something more.

I’ve always wanted to be on Broadway. The lights, the stories, the chance to be more than “the Pixie with the bass.” But wanting it and chasing it are two very different things.

My phone buzzes with a text from Rosie.

ROSIE: Booked the lodge for Christmas! Bring your big-girl pants because we’re snowboarding this year. XO

I smile despite myself. Rosie’s version of “relaxing” isn’t the same as mine. My idea of Christmas at the lodge is a cup of hot chocolate by the fire not freezing my nipples off in the snow.

Before I can reply, my phone rings. It’s Vivian, my agent.

“Did you get my email?” she asks before I can even say hello.

“Um, no,” I answer honestly. She hates it when I haven’t immediately read something she’s sent.

“There’s a charity thing I think you would be perfect for. It’s a one-night performance on Broadway. Big names are already attached. It could be a huge opportunity for you.”

I quickly put her on speaker and pull up my email. “It’s…a big leap.”

“Maggie, you’ve got the talent, and you’ve got the star power. You just need the guts to show the world what you can really do.”

I don’t respond right away. Guts. Right. Easy to say when you’re not the one standing in front of an audience that expects perfection.

“Listen,” Vivian continues, her tone softening. “It’s a charity performance. Low stakes, high exposure. If you nail this, it’s your chance to rebrand, to step out of the Pixie shadow. It’s a sexy part, not the little sister role everyone sees you in.”

I skim the email again. Broadway. My name in lights as long as I don’t completely bomb.

“Okay,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. “I’m in.”

“Yes!” Vivian squeals. “I’ll send over the details. You won’t regret this, Maggie.”

She hangs up, and I sit there, staring at the email.

Broadway. A chance to be more than a pop princess. It’s terrifying. But maybe, just maybe, it’s exactly what I need.

***

Jonah

The headline’s a real gem: Axe Saxon Strikes Again: Rock’s Bad Boy Meltdown Goes Viral!

I chuck the tabloid onto the growing pile on my kitchen counter and rub the back of my neck. It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t the one who started the fight. Or that I was defending some woman at the bar from a guy who thought “no” was optional. Nope. All anyone cares about is the footage of me grabbing my band's lead singer Rick by the collar and throwing him against the wall.

It doesn’t matter that Rick deserved it.

It doesn’t matter that my so-called bandmates were too busy sipping their overpriced whiskey to step in.

What matters is I’m the one they caught on camera, the one who’s been labeled the ticking time bomb of rock and roll. Again.

The doorbell rings and I groan. It’s too early for a normal person, which means it’s exactly the right time for Vera.

Sure enough, when I open the door, my publicist barrels in like a storm, her tailored pantsuit practically slicing through the air.

“Jonah,” she starts, her voice a mix of exasperation and threat. “You’re killing me. Killing. Me.”

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Good morning to you too.”

She drops her bag onto the couch and pulls out a folder. “Do you have any idea how much damage control I’ve had to do in the last twenty-four hours? Venues are rethinking their contracts, and the band is—”

“The band’s fine,” I cut in. “They love the chaos. It sells tickets.”

“Not this kind of chaos.” She holds up the folder. “This is the career-killing kind of chaos. You beat up the lead singer of your own band. You’re one more headline away from being the guy who was in Reckless Mercy.”

I glare at her, but she’s not wrong.

She tosses a contract onto the coffee table. “This is how you fix it.”

I pick it up, frowning. A charity performance? At Christmas? She can’t be serious.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Big names, big stage, big redemption arc.” She folds her arms. “You do this, and people will start seeing you as more than the guy who throws punches in bars. You’ll be Jonah Saxon, the drummer with a heart of gold, giving back for the holidays.”

I laugh, but it’s bitter. “So, what? I sing a few songs and suddenly I’m the good guy?”

“It’s a start,” Vera says, her tone sharp. “Or you can keep playing the bad boy and watch your career burn to ash. Your choice.”

I toss the paper back onto the table. “This is ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” she shoots back. “But it’s also necessary. Do you want to keep making music? To keep selling out stadiums? Then suck it up and get in the Christmas spirit, because this is non-negotiable.”

I stare at the contract, the words blurring together. This isn’t me. Broadway, Christmas —none of it fits.

But then again, neither does being the guy everyone loves to hate.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll do it.”

Vera’s lips twitch into something like a smile. “Good. Rehearsals start Monday. Don’t be late.”

She grabs her bag and heads for the door. “Oh, and Jonah?”

“What?”

“Try not to punch anyone.”

She slams the door behind her and I’m left shaking my head. A musical. What a joke.