I pinch the bridge of my nose. A huge part of me wants to tell her to fuck off and just go, but there’s a part that hates the idea of losing my career. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I’m at, so I’m torn.

After a few moments of debate, I sigh, deciding that I can just jet after our set. “Fine. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Jane Ann smiles, her white teeth sparkling, when she’s figured out that she’s gotten her way. “You’re making the right decision, Ace.”

Anger boils within me that I’m stuck here, unable to leave like I want for fear of what I’d lose.

Jane Ann hooks her arm through mine and leads me toward the stage again. Once we make it to where the rest of the guys in my band are standing around waiting to take the stage, they all glance up in my direction. The guys have on their standard 100 percent white stage attire, a corny gimmick Jane Ann thought would be good as our signature look on stage.

JJ’s blue eyes meet mine, and then he quickly glances in the opposite direction. He always looks pissed off. The dark hair and tan complexion he has just increase his menacing appearance. JJ Kraft, known as JJ White to the world—another ridiculous demand by the label for us to all use White as our last names on stage—is the lead guitarist for Wicked White, but that job isn’t the one he really wants. It’s been difficult becoming a cohesive unit with the guys in the band, namely because we never knew each other before the label slapped us all together and told us if we wanted a deal, we needed to get along and be professional. Money and fame are two things that are difficult for any band to struggle with once they come their way, but it’s even harder when you have no personal connection with one another.

JJ has always had his eye on my job. He wants to be the front man so bad he can taste it, and I guess having to follow my lead is enough to set him off every damn day. It’s like he’s just biding his time, waiting for me to screw up so he can jump in and take my spot.

“I’m glad all you guys are here on time,” Jane Ann addresses the band as we stand in a circle. “I see my little warning of imposing fines for tardiness has made a difference.”

“Not all of us have you as our personal fucking wristwatch,” Tyler, our drummer, answers snidely, a piece of his dirty-blond hair falling into his eyes. “Why don’t the rest of us get the same coddling that Ace gets? You always take it easy on him.”

Luke, our redheaded bass player, laughs beside him, obviously in total agreement that I’m babied.

I could try to defend myself—tell these guys to fuck off because I don’t get any special treatment, but I can’t. I know I get treated differently. Time and time again when I ask Jane Ann to stop making a fuss over just me all the time, she tells me that I’m the true talent of this band—the rest of the guys are a dime a dozen. But me, I’m the star—the one people pay good money to see.

“So what’s our set list like for tonight, Your Highness?” JJ asks mockingly.

My nostrils flare as I attempt to rein in my already boiling anger. “Same set as last night, but we’ll be canceling the next couple of shows on the tour.”

“What?!” Jane Ann and JJ ask in unison.

I flinch, completely flustered as to why Jane Ann acts like this is news to her. We just talked about me leaving a few minutes ago, so this shouldn’t shock her. Now JJ, on the other hand, I knew he’d be pissed. If we don’t play the dates booked, we don’t get paid.

“What the fuck do you mean we’re canceling?” Luke asks, his fiery tone matching the color of his hair. “We’ve booked enough dates to be set for a long time. We can’t go canceling shit now.”

“Look, guys, I’m sorry, but my mother is sick—”

“That’s horseshit. You don’t even have a mother. You were a fucking orphan.”

“Shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you,” I fire back.

JJ takes a step closer to me. “That sounds like a threat.”

“You bet your ass it was.”

My pulse races under my skin as JJ and I stand almost toe to toe while we stare each other down. I’ve got him by at least two inches with my six-foot frame, but he’s got about sixty pounds on me. He’s a gym rat, where I pride myself on speed and agility with running.

I don’t like to fight. It goes against the mellow life I want to lead, but I’m not afraid to defend myself or anyone else that may need my help.

Jane Ann wedges her small body between us when she sees that neither of us plans on backing down anytime soon. “Both of you knock this shit off right now. I won’t tolerate physical violence of any kind. This isn’t going to happen if you want to stay on Mopar’s payroll.”

JJ takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Just keep Boy Wonder here out of my face.”

I tense and begin to lunge forward, but Jane Ann’s hand on my chest stops me. “Cool it, Ace. This is neither the time nor place.” She turns to the rest of the guys. “You three, go wait side stage.”

I take a deep breath and blow it out through pursed lips as the guys walk away from me. Never did I imagine a music career being this full of utter bullshit. Not only do I constantly have Jane Ann up my ass about doing what’s best for Wicked White, but the label and the band love to jump on me every chance they get.

I fucking hate it.

I wish I’d never signed that deal.