For the next month and a half, we hit the ground running with planning our next tour, which includes an announcement for all of our dates. The plan is to start in North America before making our way over to Europe, and by some luck, quite a few of our tour dates should coincide with F1 races. Not always meeting up in the middle, but close enough that Brendon and I should be able to see each other. The more challenging part will be when we move to South America and then back to Asia. If they were flipped around, it might make it a little easier, but the logistics of a tour aren't up to us, so we have to go with the flow. There's even talk of us headlining a major music festival next year, though there are a lot of details that need to be looked into before we can commit. As exciting as it would be, our tour comes first and we don't want to wear ourselves out when we have so many dates scheduled. Working through exhaustion is much more serious than the average person realizes, and the last thing we need is one of us falling apart on the road.

        When I inform Brendon of our plans, he ensures me we'll be fine. It's comforting to realize how quickly I believe him.

        "Stevie!" Seira yells.

        Seira arranges herself on the couch so she can show me what she's looking at.

        "I was going to ask if you looked at the points yet."

        "I saw that Brendon won again," I reply, proud of him but distracted.

        He sends me a text after the race but we haven't talked on the phone yet. Running the risk of sounding clingy, I admit that I miss the sound of his voice.

        It's been a week since our last call. Timezones and busy schedules suck.

        "I don't know the exact numbers."

        She shoves her phone in my face. I force her back a few inches so I can read them, and it takes a second to register what the standings mean. Brendon has been ahead in the points for a couple of races, but he's been extending his lead little by little. Assuming he keeps up this streak, he will be in a good place come the final race of the season.

        "It's not enough to win yet but Idris is far enough behind that it's looking good."

        Races are won within milliseconds, and some championships are decided by a single point. The oldest driver on the current grid won his championship by two points in a three-way challenge, and it was a result of the two other drivers crashing into each other on the final lap of the race.

        That means not getting too comfortable with being in the lead. Anything can happen at a moment's notice, and there are too many variables to feel secure without a definitive lead, which Brendon does not have yet.

        All that aside, everyone is excited for him. Not only has he been exhibiting the expert craftsmanship that earned him the Windsor contract in the first place, but his team has also been on point with the strategy as well. Since F1 is all about the bigger picture, it's not enough to have a good driver. The marriage between a driver, their team partner, and the crew is a union that has to be maintained to achieve desirable results. If Brendon is going to cross that finish line as a championship winner, everyone, including himself, will have to pull their weight.

        "Why do you look so nervous?"

        She's looking at me like I haven't said anything for a long time. "Sorry, I have a lot on my mind."

        Seira tucks her head into my lap and brushes her fingers down the side of my wrist. "We're almost there. We have almost all of December off and you can enjoy getting cozy by the fireplace with your boo."

        "Right," I laugh. "Except we live in Los Angeles so our house doesn't even have a fireplace. And we can't even visit his family in Melbourne because it's summer there."

        "Look, a girl can dream, okay? I'll hire a contractor to build us a fireplace if that's what my baby wants." Seira tilts her head to look at me. "Did you see the puppy Moxie adopted? She posted a picture of him the other day. So freaking cute."

        "I did. And I've already scheduled a playdate with my stepson."

        "I thought Dewey was your stepson."

        "They are both my stepsons."

        Seira taps her chin. "Think Maverick said you're not allowed to visit unless he's there, no?"

        "It's not my fault Maverick is aware I will steal his girl and his dog. I'll make him pay for my airfare too."

        "Women supporting women is Everleigh going along with that even though she could probably book you both tickets."

        "My woman knows what to do."

        "I forgot to ask," Seira pivots. "Did Mick and Moxie get the invite to perform? I heard a rumor."

        "I think so, but Jun and I won't be with them if they do since we're doing the MARS medley. People are going to be tired of seeing our faces if we perform with them."

        She shrugs. "Their loss."

        My phone begins to ring and I glance at the screen to see Marty's name. Because I'm a little shit, I reject his call and wait a minute before calling him back. "Sorry, I was busy clipping my toenails."

        "Shut up," he replies. "Is everyone at the house?"

        "Feel like, as our manager, you should probably know that."

        "Answer the damn question, Stevie."

        I hold the phone away from my ear and ask Seira. "According to Seira, we are all here. But the rest of us are sleeping so good luck with getting them out of bed."

        "Perfect. Meeting in one hour on the dot."

        "It's only eight-thirty, Marty."

        He screams something at someone else that's not worth repeating. I assume he's on the road because I'm on speakerphone and there's a lot of background noise that sounds like a highway.

        "Most functioning adults are already out their front door at this hour."

        "Yeah, well...most adults aren't nominated for album of the year."

        Seira snaps her fingers.

        Choosing to ignore my comment, Marty redirects. "How is Seira of all people the one who's up with you right now?"

        Since the rest of the house is quiet, she can hear him yelling through the phone and leans over to answer him herself. "Consider us changed women, Martholomew."

        "If you ever call me that again, I'm quitting."

        She looks at me. "Think we need a running meter of how many times Marty threatens to quit on us."

        "You mean like how they counted how many times Maverick got distracted by Everleigh during the puppy interview?" I ask.

        "Embarrassing for him, honestly."

        "So true," I sigh. "If I was there with Everleigh, I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off her the entire time. His number was way too low."

        "And that's why not only are you never doing a puppy interview," Marty interjects, "You're also not allowed to bring Everleigh with you to any work events."

        "Do we even have something that can count that high?" I turn back to Seira. "Marty threatens to quit at least once a day, doesn't he?"

        Marty hangs up the phone. Jenny follows up with a slightly nicer text requesting our presence and also authorizes us to use the water bucket if the rest of the band isn't up in time. Don't need to ask me twice. Now I can kill two birds with one stone if Lauren and Jun aren't up in time.

        "Let me try and call boy wonder really quick and then I'll grab the bucket."

        She peeks at me over the top of her phone. "He said in an hour."

        "They don't know that."

...

"If even one of you complains about any of this, I'm quitting," Marty announces as he places two bags of food and trays of drinks onto the kitchen counter. "Also, blame Jenny if it's wrong because she's the one that sent me the list of your usuals."

        "Hey."

        If Marty doesn't want to be disappointed by us, he shouldn't schedule any in-house meetings. He's setting himself up for disaster and it's getting harder to feel bad for him.

        It's not like today's meeting is going to be very detailed. According to Jenny who filled us in when she arrived a little while ago, Marty wants to touch base on a few things regarding the tour before we start our unofficial winter break. We don't normally take this much time off at once, but it felt necessary considering the busy schedule we have next year. While performing in Vegas for New Year's was the time of our lives, not having any work engagements during this holiday season is nice. For the first time in a long time, we get to enjoy it and relax. This time of year can be notoriously busy for people in our industry.

        Lauren is the last one to join, and she walks past the drop-off area ringing out her damp hair with a towel, picks up her drink, and takes the spot next to Jun who's also fresh out of the shower. (I will neither confirm nor deny that I gave them a headstart with the water bucket.) Absentmindedly while she's still looking at her phone, she swings her legs over his lap and tucks herself under his arm.

        "Did you hear that, Lauren?" I say. "Marty said if we complain about even just one thing, he's quitting."

        She takes a sip of her latte and makes a funny face. "Something's off. Was this made with almond milk or oat milk?"

        "This taste about...five degrees cooler than I wanted it," Seira adds.

        I pretend to be disappointed. "And you were late so—"

        "It's been nice knowing all of you."

        Before Marty can walk away, Rami pushes him back toward his usual chair before sliding a few bills into his hand. "Consider this a bonus."

        "Thanks, Rami." Marty looks down at the crumpled bills in his hand. "Think this covers half of how much it all cost."

        "Sorry. I don't carry around cash."

        "Jenny!" Marty calls out.

        Sitting not more than five feet behind him at the kitchen counter, Jenny turns to the group and looks at us over the rim of her black-framed glasses. She's the only one who looks even remotely prepared for business. Seira and I haven't even changed out of our pajamas yet—the beauty of meetings at the house. "I'm right here."

        "Did you send—"

        "Twenty minutes ago when this meeting was scheduled."

        He shoots her a look over his shoulder. "The line at Starbucks was busy."

        "Bet the girl with the pixie cut wasn't working today."

        Marty's face says it all but he still supplies Jenny with a response anyway. How well his day is going to end up can often depend on what happens when he gets MARS' coffee order, and the expression on his face is not a good sign.

        I have no complaints about my hot chocolate.

        "She was not."

        Jenny clicks her pen open and closed. "That's where you went wrong."

        "Look, I don't know her schedule—"

        "I do." After clicking for a few seconds, Jenny turns her laptop around for Marty to look at. It's too far away for me to be able to read any of it, but from what I can manage to make out, it looks like a spreadsheet. "She's always off on the weekends. And she's Canadian like Mav. Working on her new short film."

        I can't tell if Rami looks more impressed or concerned by her efficiency in knowing when their favorite barista is working. "That's kind of scary."

        "We have brunch together. It's fine."

        Seira looks at her. "You brunch?"

        "Believe it or not, I have a life outside of MARS."

        "We're getting off-topic," Marty moans.

        Jun holds up a finger. "Were we ever on-topic?"

        Taking back the reins of the conversation, Marty goes through the final details of our schedules for the rest of the year, which isn't much since we only have one week left before we take off for a month, but he also sprints through a run-down of what's happening at the beginning of the year. Namely, the Grammys.

        While we are given the green light to perform a medley of three songs, maybe four tops depending on the arrangement and duration of each song, and one of which will be The L, we still haven't decided on our song choices yet. Overnight Rush is a most likely contender since it's up for the most awards, but that still leaves one or two other slots open. We're not sure if we want to go with the obvious route by picking one of the other singles, or something else. We still have time for a final selection, so we don't linger too long on it.

        Next up on Marty's agenda is more tour talk. As exciting as touring can be, it's also quite stressful, and having to relive these discussions on repeat is tortuous. Most of what MARS can contribute ourselves is already decided on, and anything else is mostly out of our hands.

        "Last thing for today—" Marty begins.

        MARS cheers.

        "Seriously, shut up for a second."

        "We did shut up when we fell asleep," Jun points out and has to dodge another pillow.

        Jenny walks over after scooping up a bag sitting on the ground beneath her stool. As Marty begins to talk again, she passes around small black boxes to everyone in the group and instructs us to not open anything until we're told.

        "Since we won't be back together again as a group until January—yes this is a warning, do not contact me for anything that isn't bailing you out of jail—I wanted to give you guys something to remember this year by. It's been quite a busy year for all of us, but you guys have proven once again how strong you all are. The sky isn't even the limit with you because there is no limit to the success I know you'll achieve. Not just with Escape Velocity but with your entire career. I know we're a messy bunch and we like to joke around a lot, but I want every single one of you to remember this—you are unstoppable, and I am so proud to be a small part of what makes you who you are. When you find yourselves written into the history books forever, remember all of it. The good, the bad, and everything else in between. Life can slip away when you're busy growing up and growing old. Don't let these memories fade. When you're seventy, you'll look back at this very moment with pride. And you'll deserve every good feeling that comes with it. This is just a little thanks from the two of us—" Marty points between him and Jenny who smiles at us. "But we hope you enjoy it. It's the honor of a lifetime to see you make all of your dreams come true."

        Lifting the top of the box off, I smile down at the charms sitting inside—one of Mars, a coppery circle with shadows to make it look three-dimensional, and another of a group of five stars.

        MARS, Marty, and Jenny gather together and hug, bigger than we ever have before. I wish we could never let go and stay in this moment forever, but it feels like the start of something new, a momentum that will carry us past our universe into endless others, and I'm beyond excited for what the future holds.