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Chapter 20

  The men turned on the couch to see what James was gushing about. They had been watching tv, beers in hand, whilst they waited for her to get ready.

  “Alright?” She asked them, used to James’ enthusiasm and not trusting it.

  “F-k that wig does bad things to a guy,” Owen commented with a rueful grin. “I don’t know why you don’t wear it more.”

  “It gets in my mouth and is a pain to maintain.”

  “Oh, I hate it when my fake hair gets into my mouth,” Owen rolled his eyes at Seb.

  “Me too, I hate it when that happens,” the keyboardist snickered. Out of the band, their hair was shortest, not quite getting into their eyes.

  “Ignore the folic-ly challenged, Em. Champagne?” James, whose hair definitely regularly got into his mouth and everywhere else, which was why he was currently rocking a messy man-bun brought out a piccolo bottle and popped the top, handing it to her. “Classy,” he said when she took a swig direct from the bottle.