“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. This ismeyou’re talking to. The guy who found you busking on the street when you were homeless without a dime in your pocket or any food in your belly.”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He twists around in his chair until he’s facing me. “You’re like a son to me, Ryder. Cindi and the kids adore you and consider you part of the family. I know what demons you have, and I know how much you struggle with your past and with what happened to Lucas—”
“Don’t. Please don’t go there. I can’t do this today.” I walk off back into the house, pouring myself a large whiskey neat.
Rod appears at my side, dragging a hand through his graying hair. “I know you don’t want to play the venue in Orange County, but it’s one night only, and it’s for charity. I’ll charter the jet to take you straight home.”
“You don’t need to change the plans. Gar and Micah will want to go to the after-party, and Scott and I have already agreed to hang out with Sawyer Weston at his brother’s bar. We’ll crash at Sawyer and Noah’s place and then meet the guys at the airport the next morning.”
Sawyer and Noah Weston are fraternal twins who make up one-half of Bastards and Dangerous a.k.a. BAD. They hit the scene around the same time we did, and while there’s a certain competitive rivalry between both bands, we all get along and enjoy socializing after group festivals and events.
Sawyer and I struck up a closer friendship, a couple years back, and I’ve been promising to visit Just an Illusion, the bar his brother Jordan owns, for some time. Tonight’s the perfect opportunity to take him up on his offer, because I loathe being back in Orange County, and I want to get the hell out of there as soon as the show is a wrap. Jordan’s bar is in southern California too, but it’s in L.A. County and gives me the distance I desperately need.
“Okay.” Rod grabs his things. “But when you come back, I want you to schedule an appointment with Dr. Fleming. I know you’ve stopped going to therapy, but you need it, Ryder. You know you do.”
“Therapy isn’t going to fix the mess in my head. We both know that. I’m fucked up, and it’s my penance. It’s the punishment I’ll live with every day of my life, and I’ve already accepted that.” I knock the whiskey back, draining it in one go.
There’s only one person who’s ever been able to bring me any measure of peace, and she’s the one person who’s completely off-limits to me.
17
Zeta
“You look like you’re about to topple over. You sure you still want to go out?” I ask Kayla for the umpteenth time as we titivate ourselves in the compact bathroom of my eleven-hundred-square-foot condo in Queens.
“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated,” she protests, elbowing me out of the way so she can get at the mirror, and I grin.
Pregnancy hasnotchanged my best friend—myonlyfriend—not a bit.
Well, except for her altered physical features.
Mikayla is a teeny, tiny little thing, and I have no clue where she got that ginormous baby bump from. Or how she continues to wear skyscraper heels and still manages to maintain her balance. I tease her constantly that she’s carrying twins or triplets, and she shoves her scan photos in my face every time, pointing at the only baby growing in her womb.
Although I’m undecided about kids, I’m super excited for Kayla and Gage’s baby boy to make his entrance into the world. She’s due in a month, not that she’s letting that slow her down.
We met atRockOut, the magazine where we both work as music journalists, four years ago. Kayla was employed the year before me, and I was recruited straight from college. We clicked the second we met, and we’ve been joined at the hip pretty much since then.
That’s not usual for me.
I don’t make friends easily, and I always have my guard up.
There have only been two occasions in my life where I willingly dropped my walls to let someone in. After the first time ended so badly, I swore I was never opening up to anyone ever again, but Kayla challenged my conviction the instant I met her, and with her determined personality, I never stood a chance.
“I haven’t missed any of Gage’s performances to date, and I don’t intend to start now.” Gage is her baby daddy and fiancé, and he’s also the front man for Savage Mania, an up-and-coming rock band our magazine has been supporting for the past year.
I was with Kayla the night she met Gage. It’s important that we keep our finger to the pulse when it comes to the indie rock scene, so we go out to smaller venues and bars, scouting fresh talent to watch, at least a couple times a week, as well as attending all the bigger musical events and rock concerts which we’re required to report on. Even though I’ve long since given up on my songwriting dreams, as jobs go, I’m lucky, because I’m surrounded by music twenty-four seven, and not many people can say they get to pursue something they’re passionate about.
“Does he know you’re coming?” I ask, leaning into the mirror as I apply a final layer of lip gloss. Gage has been a tad overprotective these last couple months, and I can’t believe he’s happy for Kayla to attend the gig tonight. The crowd tends to be rowdy.
“He’s expecting us, and he said he’d reserve a section near the stage for us.” She runs her fingers through her cropped blonde hair, giving herself one last look over in the mirror.
“Sweet.” I smack my lips against her cheek. “Ready to go, or you need another minute to pee?”
“Do you even have to ask?” She rolls her eyes. “I swear this kid is sitting right on my bladder. I need to pee at least four times an hour.”
“At least you don’t have to suffer for much longer, and you’ve had a dream pregnancy. When Jill was pregnant, both times, she had horrible morning sickness that lasted all day, and when that passed, she got really bad heartburn that kept her awake at night. It’s the reason why her and Liam have drawn the line on any more babies.”
