Because yes, Maynard has been an asshole. An asshole in every possible sense. But right now you're on your stage, at YOUR concert, with YOUR crowd, and you don’t owe anyone anything except the best version of your music. You take a deep breath. Grab the microphone. Prepare for the next vocal entry. And then you hear a strange murmur moving through the crowd. At first, you think it’s a glitch in the audio, some interference. Then you notice several heads turning to the left, toward the staircase that leads backstage. And just when you’re about to come back in for the verse, you see him. Him.

On stage. Without permission. Without announcement. Without giving a damn that tonight isn’t about him. You freeze for a moment, your heart tightening into a fist. The crowd erupts some scream his name, others look confused and you feel anger rising through you. He walks toward you with that unbearable confidence he’s always had, the one he’s always known how to use to get what he wants. But this time it doesn’t work; not on you. Not tonight.

“I know you’re upset,” he says, no microphone, just his voice. “But I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”