Feeling my headache returning, along with a surge of nausea, I said, “Yeah, something like that. And…they’re filming it next month, so I’m going to have to fly to L.A. Just for a couple days though, I won’t be gone long.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did I really just say that to her? Yes, I had. I’d just told a major-ass lie to my wife, one I couldn’t hide forever, and when she did find out the truth, she was going to fucking kill me. But I had no choice. She’d shoot down my plan if she knew all the details, and I was dying in the D-Bags’ shadow, I needed to break free. She’d see that once the show erupted. She’d support me then, I just knew it. I’d be totally honest with her…when the time was right.

Anna studied me a second longer, and I prayed my poker face stayed in place. Fuck, was I sweating? Just when I thought she was going to call bullshit, a huge smile broke her tepid expression. “Ah, babe, that’s great! A commercial was kind of something I’d been tossing around in my mind. It will let you stand out, but it won’t interfere with the band. It’s a win-win!” Leaning over, she gave me a heartfelt kiss. “See, I told you your talent would be recognized and appreciated soon.”

She leaned over to kiss me again, and I had to swallow the lump of shame in my throat; it was the first time the emotion had ever truly touched me, and I didn’t like it. At all. I probably shouldn’t have done that. But it was too late now…I’d already spun the web, and all I could do was follow it through. But fuck…on the other side of my deceit was the Promised Land—a TV show, where I was the star! Fuck, yes! This was going to be amazing.

The next few weeks were filled with endlessly meeting the guys and working on the new album. I kept quiet on my “side gig,” which was a really hard thing for me to do. It made me appreciate myself even more. I mean, if the guys understood the restraint I was using on a daily basis around them, they’d be seriously impressed.

Arnold, Harold, or whatever the hell his name was sent me the lengthy electronic contract right away. Since it all seemed legit to me, I signed it without reading it all the way through. Two weeks after I signed the contract, he shipped me the script for the pilot episode. Luckily, I intercepted the package before Anna saw it, and immediately hid the script away in my office. My lie to my wife would be completely exposed if she saw the thick manuscript I’d been sent—no commercial had that many lines—and if I slipped up now, my dream would never come true. To keep my hope alive, I had to keep Anna in the dark, so I only read through the script when I was alone.

It felt strangely horrible to not include her in my excitement. I was so used to telling her everything, no matter how small, and this was huge for me. Holding back from her made me feel incomplete, like I was constantly forgetting something. But I knew what would happen if I told Anna the truth, and because I wanted this so badly, I maintained the lie. It was temporary anyway. Once the show got picked up, I would have to come clean to her and the guys. Even if I was ordered to keep quiet, I wouldn’t be able to hold that shit in.

I was anxious to start filming, and I often practiced my acting technique in the bathroom. But memorizing the script was harder than I thought. I hoped they let me cheat while filming, have someone saying the lines in my ear or holding up cue cards that I could glance at. Something.

By the first part of December, the D-Bags were putting the finishing touches on our third album. Matt was stoked about it, said it was our best one yet. Considering the fact that they’d shot down every single one of my ideas, I wasn’t so sure it was anything more than mediocre. It saddened me that the guys refused to listen to me, refused to let me guide our band to epicness. For all of Matt and Kellan’s pretty words about pushing the envelope, they were sticking with the status quo. It was disappointing, to say the least. But I had bigger and better things on my horizon, so for once, I wasn’t worried about it.

I wasn’t worried about the album, but I was a little concerned about what I was going to tell the guys when it was time to fly to L.A. to film the pilot. I’d have to explain my absence somehow, and I had no idea what to say. “I’m blowing you guys off for a while” probably wouldn’t go over too well. It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-December when I finally got the call from Harold that I’d been waiting for.

“Mr. Hancock, I hope you’re having a great afternoon. All ready for Christmas?”

Even though he couldn’t see me, I shrugged. “Yeah, guess so.” Anna had been shopping for the girls almost nonstop. I swear our house had enough pink and purple presents in it to fill about six Toys for Tots trucks. She claimed most of them were small items, but I didn’t care. Kids should be spoiled, no harm in that.

My gift to Anna was better than anything she’d picked up for the girls though. Not long after Onnika’s baptism, I’d gotten one-way plane tickets for all of my relatives and sent them packing. Our house was blissfully quiet again. My parents were already trying to plan a return trip for the holidays, but I told them they’d have to wait until the next baby. God, I hoped Anna didn’t get knocked up again too soon. She’d kill me.

“That’s great!” Harold exclaimed. His tone never truly changed much, even when I was doing my best to either annoy him or embarrass him. It was like he was always in a great mood, no matter what was happening. I think I could have told him I was contemplating ending it all over the holidays and he would have answered me the same way. He reminded me of Jenny, but in an unrealistic way, like he silently cursed me the second he hung up the phone. Whatever. So long as he made me famous, I didn’t care what he thought about me.

“Good news, Mr. Hancock, everything is ready and we’re all set to film the pilot episode on Monday. Pack your bags, it’s time to come to L.A.”

“Great…I’ll be there.” Somehow.

“Perfect!” He gave me some pointers on where to go and how to get there, and then said, “Everything about this show is top-notch. I can’t wait for you to see the set. See you Monday, Mr. Hancock.”

“Yep, see you then.” Frowning, I tucked my hair behind my ears. It was nearly to my shoulders now, and I could easily pull it back into a ponytail if I wanted. I loved having it loose and free though. What should I tell the guys? Would they be fine with the same thing I’d told Anna? Probably not, they’d bitch that they weren’t included. I ignored the annoying section of my brain that was shouting that I would bitch too if I were them and focused instead on my storytelling skills. Fuck, I was a horrible liar. Hmm, it had to be somewhat realistic to be believable. I’d just say I was visiting family for a while. Yeah, that would totally work.

I let the guys know I was leaving when we met up that night at Kellan’s recording studio. “Hey, so…I’m gonna be heading out of town for a while…I’m leaving tomorrow night actually.” Matt, Evan, and Kellan all twisted to look at me. We’d just finished the final pass on the last song, and everyone was putting away their instruments. I was still playing with mine, while a strange emotion ripped my belly apart. Fear? Nerves? Guilt? Nah, couldn’t be that. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I deserved this.

Matt furrowed his brow. “We just finished the album. We’ve got to get it to label so they can start production. We’ll have interviews starting soon, promotional tours, late-night TV gigs…you can’t disappear right now, Griffin. We’ve got work to do.”

I held up my hand to stop his rambling. “I know. Chill…I was just thinking of visiting my parents for a few days. Maybe check up on Chelsey. Her husband is still overseas, and she’s raising those girls alone, you know?”