Kinsley and Nora had jokingly bestowed upon themselves the nickname of dirty degenerates since diaper days. Where one went, the other followed, and chaos always ensued in their wake. While Nora never quite had an answer to the million-dollar question, where did she see herself in twenty years, one thing she had always believed was that Kinsley would be by her side, no matter where she ended up. The only life partner a woman needed; the only one she ever wanted.

Then the great shift happened and dirty degenerates sightings became as rare as Halley's Comet.

If Nora had thought about the present for too long, it would have made her nauseous.

Given the current state of affairs, Kinsley's cold shoulder was anticipated once Nora entered the building. With a reputation for being stubborn, she returned the favor, which didn't feel as good as she thought it would. But what else was she supposed to do? Grovel? Beg? Break down all of the walls she spent so long fortifying?

In a pathetic attempt to appear cordial despite how badly she wanted to run straight back outside that door, Nora greeted her bandmates. She didn't understand how one word felt like swallowing a handful of needles, or how they had allowed themselves to shatter into that many fault lines.

Erin was the only gentle soul who took pity on her. Sweet, sweet Erin. Nora often believed he was the only lovable member of the group, which was why he had earned the sought-after title of Marty Thompson's favorite Roslyn client.

"Those are cute." He glanced down at her black faux leather boots. "Can I steal them?"

"Ha."

Nora shoved him away and sank onto the only vacant seat which just so happened to be the seat furthest from Kinsley. She was headstrong enough to tip her nose at the deliberate barrier placed between them but human enough for her stomach to sink at being this close to the only person who knew her better than herself, yet that person wanted nothing to do with her.

"I found them at a thrift store in Portland last week. I'm not letting you take them. Ever."

Erin's devilish grin was the aftertaste of a much happier past. "Not even if I ask nicely?"

"Especially not if you ask nicely."

"Fine. Which one?"

"I'm a west coast hoe, you know that."

"Except you're not from the West Coast," Erin pointed out with a laugh. "Not which Portland. Which thrift store."

Nora shrugged. "I think it was called New Age Thrift."

"Cute."

"Not as cute as you."

"I know."

They were interrupted by the artificial sound of Kinsley clearing her throat. While talented and beautiful, Kinsley was never going to win an Academy Award.

"Subtle," Nora remarked.

"I wasn't trying to be."

Prior to the year they spent avoiding each other, Lockewood didn't offer much more than his presence. Considering how he towered over everyone besides their manager, his presence alone was intimidating enough. His long hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail, hung in deep brown waves obscuring either side of his face.

"Is Marty not coming?" Lockewood asked without looking up from his book.

Bent spine, folder pages, penciled in thoughts. He might have been a little messy, but no one could accuse him of not throwing himself into subjects he felt passionate about. Nora admired that about him before she became an obstacle standing in the way of his greatest passion.

"I think he said got caught up with something important and couldn't come," Erin replied.

Kinsley scoffed. "He probably doesn't want to watch this trainwreck."

"He's still our manager so I guess that stands for something."

Nora and Kinsley locked eyes. Not for long, the blonde's eyes said, which wasn't a false statement, as painful as it was to admit out loud. Despite the relief Nora hoped would break free as soon as they were all released back into the wild to fend for themselves, it was a disappointing realization with which she had to come to terms.

"And how long is this supposed to take?" Lockewood asked.

"All day."

Lockewood found concealing his true feelings to be a waste of time, hence the eye-roll he made no effort to obscure. Luckily, Porter had disappeared as soon as he walked inside so he didn't catch that. The last thing they needed was for Porter to be the first one to find out Roslyn was breaking up.

"Do you have somewhere more important to be?" Nora asked.

As the most mature and level-headed of the group, Lockewood tried his hardest to keep everyone together. But, at some point, even the strongest reach a breaking point. Nora was devastated to know she had helped him reach his.

"Waiting for the garbage truck to come down my street is more important than this."

"Ouch."

Before they spiraled even further down the labyrinth, Porter returned with his usuals—a pen, notebook, and recorder. His weapons were modest in appearance, but the written word carried a lot of power. As a songwriter, Nora understood that. Nora respected that. It remained one of the only reasons she could stand being around him as many times as she had throughout her career. While he never pulled punches, he was also never deliberately reckless.

"So, they're going to put you all into hair and makeup before they start the photoshoots, but most of it will be done separately before final group shots closer to the end of the day. I'll fit myself in periodically, so don't be alarmed if I'm coming in and out throughout the day. I prefer something a bit more... organic. Less robotic. As I'm sure you all know by now. Just relax. Have a conversation. Today will go smoothly. And if you're up for a group chat before we leave, we can set that up."

"Why wouldn't we?" Erin asked. "We're here for Roslyn."

"I just figured—" Porter trailed off. Lips tense.

"Figured what?"

He snuck a glance at Nora but didn't speak for a beat. "You might be tired is all."

"We've opened up for MARS and headlined a world tour. I think we can keep up with a day of talking."

Porter laughed. "Excuse me for being concerned."

"You're excused."

"Give it a break," Kinsley muttered under her breath.

Nora elected to ignore her. They were good at that. Deserving of an Academy Award kind of good at that.

"Does anyone else have any issues with that?" Porter swept his eyes across the group. Everyone shook their heads. "Good. Let me know if that changes. I can work around it." He flipped to a page in his notebook. "We'd love to explore your experiences with forming Roslyn, your rise to fame, and any future plans. Whatever else you give will be appreciated, but I want to reiterate that I'm here to tell your story. The good, the bad, everything. We're all here 'cause we love music, right? Let that guide you. The rest will come naturally."

Music was the only reason any of them were in that room. If it weren't for music, as well as Marty's skill of getting people to places they needed to be, they would all be at different corners of the map, trying to rediscover the people they had been before they all met.

If only Roslyn hadn't become so intertwined with Nora's understanding of music, maybe it would have made it easier to fall back apart.