I shouldn’t be surprised. Imagine Dragons started as anindieband and never did really end up fitting into just one category later on. Still, my mind spins as I try to catch up. “That’s insane. Hardly anyone knew who they were back then.”
“Well my mom used to play small venues all over the Southwest when she was younger, so sometimes on school breaks she’d take me and my siblings to a few of her old favorites. One summer weekend she took me to a show in Vegas where Imagine Dragons was doing a mix of covers and originals; she even let me buy one of the self-produced CDs they were selling. God … CDs. It’s weird to think about that. It had songs on it that you can’t find on any streaming service. Anyway, after that, I was all in.”
“Your mom is a musician?”
He nods. “Never got famous, obviously. But she didn’t want that. She liked smaller crowds. It was just fun for her, a side thing before she had kids.”
“Is that … how you got started? Because of her?”
“Yeah. She taught me and my brother and sister to play acoustic guitar. I’m the only one who stuck with it, but they’re not half bad.”
A couple of influencers interrupt us to ask for a selfie. One of them makes long-form content on YouTube analyzing popular song patterns, the other shares obscure music facts on TikTok. I pose and grin and listen as they talk about how they can hearthe Selena Quintanilla influence in “Brightly Burning” and how a lot of country these days is more of a fusion with other genres than ever before, but all the while, I’m still stuck on the Imagine Dragons thing and Riff’s upbringing.
We mingle with some of the other guests, but manage to stay mostly within earshot of each other. The music shifts from the Killers to Lady Gaga to Santana to Panic! At The Disco—more artists with long runs in Vegas or ties to it. We grab mini lobster rolls and chocolate dice and popcorn dusted in edible gold. When there’s a lull, we come back together to discuss the best way to casually get some more media exposure.
I’m in the middle of suggesting we make an appearance by the roulette wheels when Riff visually locks onto something over my shoulder.
“Shit,” he mutters.
I turn my attention to where he’s looking. There are several people within his sightlines but he seems to be focused on a particular woman among them. She’s got a porcelain complexion that contrasts her long dark hair, and she’s wearing a strapless red gown.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“My ex.” Riff’s jaw flexes. “From when I was with SiNKroNyze.”
I rack my brain because I think I might know which one. Someone was just talking about her not that long ago online.
“You won’t have heard of her, because she’s not famous, but—”
“Mikayla,” I say. “Carlton Park mentioned her in his video about us. The … graphic designer?”
Riff nods. “I would never have expected her to be at an event like this. Although I did hear a rumor a while back that she was up for a job at Ultracity Records, which I now realize is …”
“The same label daXx produces for.”
He downs his drink in half a second, then wipes his lips with the back of his wrist. “How is this possible? The odds of running into one ofyourexes is so much higher than running into her.”
“True.” Suddenly I’m darting my gaze around looking for Andy or Josh, or even Kelton (his latest work has been controversial but it’s gotten him more name recognition, so it’s possible he’d start getting invites to bigger events than before). “Was it a messy breakup? It can’t have been that bad, especially since it wasn’t public. Right?”
Flagging down a showgirl cocktail waitress who passes us with a tray, Riff grabs a second champagne shot and takes it like it’s pure alcohol, then grimaces. “Are none of these vodka?” He hands the empty glass back to her abruptly.
I shoot the girl an apologetic look and pull Riff off to the side of the room. “Hey. What’s going on? You seem … not well.”
He drags his fingers through his hair, hesitating. He lowers his voice. “Last time I saw Mikayla, I was going to … I was going to ask her to marry me. I had the ring and everything.”
Whoa.
“Did she know?”
“I choose not to ask myself that question, because I’m pretty sure I won’t like the answer.”
“Because she broke up with you?”
He nods again.
“And … if she did that without knowing how you really felt, it’s not as hurtful as if she did it knowing you wanted to marry her?”
“Yeah.”
