“Listen up—if you skip our party tomorrow, that’s it, I’m out," Shorter declared the second the four of them piled back into the van from the Angel Eyes studio. "Banana Fish will be over."

"That's some blackmail," Ibe chuckled as she fastened her seatbelt. "But I’m afraid I’m too old for parties." She gave Eiko’s shoulder a quick pat. "What about you, Ei-chan?"

Eiko froze in her seat. "A party?" she asked, glancing at Shorter, who only nodded, waiting.

Eiko couldn't deny it, being invited felt nice. But without Ibe beside her, meeting the girls felt oddly unreal, like being shoved onstage to perform a song Eiko barely knew. "I’m… not sure," she muttered.

"C’mon." Shorter furrowed her brows, but her lips betrayed a little smile. "It’ll be fun. Drinks, music, us. What’s not to love?"

"Don’t be pushy," Ashlyn muttered from the front seat, nudging Shorter’s arm with her elbow. "But," she glanced back at Eiko, "you’d be safer sticking with us than wandering on your own. With paparazzi sneaking around and all."

Safer? The word landed strangely in Eiko’s chest. Was Ashlyn really thinking about her safety, or was that just an excuse? Whatever it was, the warmth it stirred in Eiko's stomach was even more ridiculous than Ashlyn believing American paparazzi were interested in some retired Japanese idol.

"So?" Shorter tilted her head. "What do you say?" 

Eiko bit the inside of her cheek. If they truly wanted her there, if Ashlyn wanted her there… "Alright," she said softly. "I'll be there."

Shorter let out a triumphant whoop and threw her fist in the air. "That’s what I’m talking about." She glanced at Ibe, "Won't change your mind?"

Ibe shook her head, smiling. 

"Okay, then." Ashlyn reached into her jacket, then extended a hand across the seat toward Eiko. "To access our floor."

Eiko peeked at a sleek black key card in Ashlyn's palm. "Thanks." Eiko leaned forward to take it, her fingers brushing against Ashlyn’s . 

Ashlyn pulled back almost immediately, gaze darting to the window. "Sure."

If Eiko didn’t know better, she would have said Ashlyn almost looked… embarrassed?

As soon as the van pulled into their private hotel garage, Ibe whispered into Eiko's ear, “Breakfast tomorrow? In the lounge?”

“Of course,” Eiko said at once.

Normally Eiko wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But there had been something in Ibe’s tone, something too gentle, too careful, that made Eiko suspect breakfast wouldn't be just breakfast. 

Had the Japanese press already caught up with her? Maybe someone had leaked photos from the rehearsal, grainy shots of her looking tired and washed-out, proof that she didn’t belong here. Or maybe Ibe was hiding something worse: another band, bigger than Banana Fish, waiting in the wings to make her feel stupid and irrelevant all over again.

By the time Eiko crawled into bed, every possibility looped in her head like a song stuck on repeat. The questions haunted her so thoroughly that she nearly forgot to call home the next morning.

Still waiting for her tea—this time, surely a non-alcoholic one—Eiko watched as Ibe dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee and drank it without stirring.

"You did well yesterday," Ibe said, adding another spoonful. Eiko's teeth ached at the sight of it. "The girls surely like you." Ibe paused to take a sip. "Ashlyn too."

Eiko scratched the back of her neck. “Oh?” She hadn’t told Ibe about the balcony incident, or about the way Ashlyn had caught her off guard with that unexpected kindness, but somehow, Ibe had noticed anyway. “You think so?”

Ibe nodded with a warm smile, and for a second Eiko forgot about the anxiety that had been haunting her since yesterday. But when Ibe’s expression turned serious, it all came rushing back twice as strong.

Ibe glanced around the nearly empty lounge and leaned in. “I know you like them too. I like them as well. But…” Her voice fell to a whisper, softer than the hiss of the coffee machine at the bar. “Be careful tonight.”

Eiko's heart dropped. "Careful? Why?"

Ibe set her cup aside and crossed her arms. "Ei-chan, you’ve heard the stories, right? American rock-star parties… they can get messy."

Eiko tilted her head. She’d been to her fair share of industry parties in Japan and a few times in South Korea, though never voluntarily. The worst she’d seen was a backup dancer puking into some singer's handbag which, while gross, wasn't exactly catastrophic. "Do they… drink a lot?" she asked.

Ibe stared at her like she’d just asked if grass was green. Then, very deliberately, she mimed a dramatic snort across the back of her hand.

It took Eiko a second, but when she realized what Ibe meant, she nearly choked on her own breath: "D-Drugs?!"

"Shhh!" Ibe hissed, pressing a finger to her lips.

Eiko’s ears burned. She shrank down in her seat, lowering her voice to a whisper: "Drugs?"

Ibe gave her a solemn nod, lowering her own voice as though they were discussing state secrets. "Cocaine. Ecstasy. MDMA. Hell, who knows, maybe even heroin."

Eiko’s jaw dropped. Heroin? She couldn’t imagine any of the Banana Fish girls like that. Not Bones with her cute little smile, not Kong with her gentle eyes, not even Shorter, who seemed the most outgoing of them all; and especially not Ashlyn. The cashier probably wouldn’t even sell her a beer, mistaking her for a teenage boy. "Are you sure?"

"I don’t want to sound like your mother," Ibe sighed, though the look she gave Eiko was more parental than anything Eiko could remember, "but please. Be careful. There might be… other things too."

"Like what?"

Ibe hesitated, then shrugged. "Strippers? Naked men with cocaine lines across their chests? A baby-goat sacrifice?"

Eiko’s eyes went wide. "A—what?"

Before Ibe could elaborate further on her fever-dream image of American debauchery, her phone rang. She answered it with a calm, professional voice, already shifting gears. "Good luck tonight," she mouthed to Eiko as she turned away, leaving her frozen in her chair, stomach twisting with visions of needles, naked men, and… baby goats?