No place in the world felt more like home than when Moxie stood on a stage performing right beside her brother. That was a discernible truth she understood for as long as she could remember. Having a father in the music industry helped give her a leg (or two) up and endowed her with opportunities beyond her wildest dreams—she never took that for granted nor pretended as if he wasn't a significant factor in her career, as doing so would be incredibly silly and also undermine her and her fellow artists' hard work—but she was convinced she would have discovered it no matter her upbringing. She very likely wouldn't have gotten the chance to stand where she stood today—again, pretending otherwise would be ridiculous—but dreams were dreams, regardless of where she rested her head at night and under whose roof.

She was on cloud nine by the time their first show in Austin arrived, as swift and as sharp as the first strum of the electric guitar at a heart-pounding rock concert. The weather was cool and breezy, they were surrounded by great company, and had downed just enough booze to get the night going without risking them falling on their faces as soon as they stepped onto the stage. At least, for Moxie's case, she was sure of her stability. Mick dramatically stubbed his toe in a questionable enough fashion that she had to second-guess the security of his state.

The Kings were front and center of the nepo baby roster, but some might even call them professionals on their best days.

"Watch out!"

A Capri Sun packet flew through the air like a comet shooting across the sky, landing perfectly in the palm of Mick's hand. He flipped it over and smiled at the familiar label. She was sure there had never been a more successful celebrity partnership in the history of Capri Sun's marketing. (On second thought, had there ever been another before Jun Nakagawa?)

"I told you to stop throwing that around before you stab someone in the eye with it!" Stevie scolded as she walked into the dressing room with Jun. The latter could barely speak because of how wide he was smiling. "You're lucky he's a good catch."

"Thanks, babe," Mick replied with his own cheeky smile.

"That's not what I meant."

"Sure it was."

Moxie held up one hand. Saying Jun once was all it took for him to magically pull another Hawai'i Cooler out of his pocket and send it flying in her direction. Just like her fellow King Sibling, she caught it with ease. Even if she hadn't wanted to drink a Capri Sun before her show, it was probably a good idea to drink anything else.

"Roxanne get you both situated?" Moxie asked before popping the straw into the pouch.

Stevie nodded as she hopped onto the chair next to Mick in front of the mirror while Jun opted for the other end of the sofa Moxie was currently lounging on. All of them were clothed with their slightly dressier outfits, the kind that was perfect for ruining during a concert. Their wardrobe designer had their work cut out for them on this tour. (The threat of Mick ripping his pants still loomed on the horizon.)

"Yup." There was still some time before the show started, and Stevie and Jun would have to wait even longer to join them for a surprise live performance of Ghosts from their second EP, but she tapped on the earpiece dangling from around her neck. "Though she asked me about fighting... Marty?"

Mick hid a laugh behind his hand. Moxie didn't bother.

"What about it?" he asked, as if it was a real thing that was happening. Wildest title card they would have ever seen.

"Well, she would win, obviously," Stevie said. "He's so top heavy, all she needs to do is trip him and it's game over, but I was just thrown off. I was showing her clips of Eddie and she was really into it so I thought she was, like, half serious about trying to fight him."

"Eddie?"

"Eddie," Stevie repeated. "That boxer I was telling you about? Friends with Mav? Got suspended for some bullshit reason, yada yada."

"Ah, right." Moxie couldn't remember who the hell she was talking about, but there were too many new faces rotating in and out of her short attention span. "Such bullshit."

Before anyone noticed, and before she could talk herself out of it because she was supposedly trying to sober up a bit before the show, Moxie snuck a small bottle of sparkly out from the side of the couch where she had hidden it earlier and took a sip. (She didn't need the judgment, thank you very much.) (The booze was very necessary no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.)

Seeing through the terrible acting on Moxie's part, Stevie provided an addendum to her explanation while flicking through something on her phone. She was most likely searching for the previously mentioned video of what Moxie could assume was some impressive ass-kicking to add additional context.

"She's friends with Rush. The guy who—"

"Oh, the blondie fanatic. Right." Moxie hated that in her head, she saw Ms. Swift as the other blondie now, as if she held any sort of relationship with either woman that warranted any sort of distinction between the two. "I remember him."

She had heard enough stories about Rush Tua's famed karaoke performances to last a lifetime. Seeing it live was right up there on her bucket list.

Seemingly right on cue, Mick connected his phone to the Bluetooth speaker and started playing 1989 (Taylor's Version) because if there was any Taylor album that her brother was a ride or die for, it was 1989. (He was a not-so-secret pop-girly through and through.)

"Wow," Moxie said after Stevie finished showing her a reel of clips of Eddie Yamaguchi in the ring. "That girl can move."

She had never been to a boxing match before, and, aside from Formula One, wasn't that into sports in general, but there was something enthralling about that handful of clips she had been shown. Even in its diluted form, Eddie's boxing was a perfect balance of skill, precision, and tenacity, something that Moxie recognized in her own outlook on life. Without knowing anything else, Moxie was already wondering if Stevie would ever be able to help take her to see a match, assuming there was an upcoming one.

"She's the best. I love her." Stevie, who had squeezed herself between Moxie and Jun to show her the videos, slid her phone back into her back pocket before taking the Capri Sun that was finally waiting for her. "Our favorite pastime is picking on Maverick together, it's great."

"Isn't that what you have Leigh for?"

Stevie scrunched her nose. Cute. "Well, yeah, but it's not as fun when you know she's going right back home with him and having—"

Jun cleared his throat.

"—sleepovers. Eddie is definitely not having sleepovers with Maverick, so it's even more fun to make fun of him."

"And how's Boy Wonder?" Moxie asked, redirecting the devilish glint in Stevie's eyes to something a little less devious, as was the case whenever she talked about Maverick. After knowing them for a couple of years now, she understood there were two modes to their friendship—pure chaos or sappy and emotional mess.

The seismic shift in Stevie's demeanor whenever Bash Ellis was mentioned was equally as predictable.

Moxie laughed to herself under her breath as she waited for Stevie to give her an answer. At one point in time, as brief as that moment was, Moxie thought she could fall for a girl like Stevie. (Who wouldn't? She was the cutest human being alive—a living, breathing heart personified.) But her heart was taken long before Stevie had even realized it herself, and Moxie quickly came to terms with that. Was more than okay with it, too. Especially when she discovered that the person off the track was even more remarkable than the fierce driver he was on it. The two of them were a nice reminder of how great it could be to let yourself fall into something you never thought you were worthy of.

"He's good," she swooned with a sweet smile, her eyes drifting off into wonderland. "We're good. He's obviously still excited about racing, but after winning his first championship, it feels like he's let go of some of that pressure. He doesn't quite feel the need to prove something anymore. Not that he had to before, but you know how it is."

Moxie wasn't sure if she had gotten there quite yet herself, but she understood the feeling Stevie was talking about, and she acknowledged that same sense of ownership over her feelings that Stevie seemed to carry with her now ever since MARS swept all that doubt about their talent under the rug the night that Escape Velocity made history. Though Moxie had yet to figure out what accomplishments she wanted to achieve for herself, some milestones came naturally with the job title, and winning Album of the Year, amongst all their other many awards, would be a nice badge of honor to wear.

"You still there?" Stevie poked her side. She wasn't sure how long she had been staring.

"Yeah, yeah." Moxie shook her head. "My mind just went on a marathon with that train of thought."

Show nerves. They were a real bitch on a normal day. Now that the present MARS members were given the green light and the clock was ticking closer to the time they were scheduled to start their portion of the show, it was starting to hit her that this was their first headlining tour. Everyone out there—the screams could be heard through the wall as Lana played through her set—was present to see Mick and Moxie. While she considered herself a good showman, she hadn't quite won that beautiful golden trophy to ease some of the pressure off. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't even sure something like that quite existed in her field quite the same way in Brendon Ellis' world. As happy as Stevie and the rest of her crew appeared to be, Moxie couldn't quite say herself whether they derived any of that satisfaction from the awards themselves or something more personal, more intimate, and shared between their group of friends. Perhaps their fulfillment was despite what happened with the rest of the world. Moxie truly believed they would still be in the good place that they were without the many awards, though they certainly didn't hurt.

MONARCH was their first full-length album after two well-received EPs, one of which earned them their first Grammy nominations. And though each effort felt very distinct in its voice, tone, and overarching message, Moxie knew how difficult it was to be a woman being judged by the entire world. Reinvention wasn't a tool but a necessary factor in their trajectory, and having Mick by herself only alleviated some of that expectation. Not enough that she wasn't constantly thinking about how to shift herself far enough to be seen as interesting but not enough that her art became a foreign entity separate from what made her who she was. Women were still judged when they had a man by their side. Sometimes it felt like more so. The Kings weren't naturally competitive when it came to their own partnership, but no outsider would ever be able to say that by the way social media tried to pit them against the other. It wasn't enough that Moxie had to fight to prove she had any talent at all—they wanted her to believe she was less than her own brother.

But why the fuck was she even worrying about that when she was due to entertain the crowd soon? Though the woman sitting next to her looked at her with careful ease, the one who understood exactly what she was going through, and undoubtedly even more than she ever could, Moxie wiped any ounce of worry off her face and painted on a smile. They were all experts at that anyway. Women. Always doing what they had to do to please the world in the hopes that it would go easy on them in return. (Spoiler alert: it never did. Life was one big fucking hoax.)

"As much as I love Hawai'i Cooler, I think I need more bubbly chaser, yeah?"

Stevie loved too hard which meant she sometimes threw herself headfirst into problems that weren't her own, even if meant ending up as collateral damage in someone else's war, but that was a strange part of her charm. Moxie knew what it was like to turn herself into shrapnel. But this time, Stevie took the bait. She was a showman herself, after all, and this acrobat had her own special surprise landing to stick. MARS was nothing if not the best at putting on a show.

"As long as it's not moonshine, we're good."

Moxie knocked her elbow against hers. "Too much Ka-chow! at House MARS?"

"Don't let the Piston Cup Champ hear you say that."

"One day some poor soul is going to hear all of our inside jokes and wonder what the fuck is wrong with us."

Mick chuckled and held his hand out for another Capri Sun. "They already do."