Iglance up from my drum kit in time to see Ryder step out of the control room. A few seconds later, he enters the live room where the guys and I are warming up before we record our new song. “Jared, would it be okay if I gave Zeta your home address?” Ryder asks, walking across the hardwood floor toward me.
“Sure, but what’s up?”
“She wants to send Toria a baby hamper, whatever the fuck that is.” He shrugs and smiles.
I eyeball Wilder. “Didn’t you tell him?”
As well as being Wilder’s older half-brother, Ryder is also lead singer and guitarist for Torment and the co-owner of Torment Records, the label our band is signed to. This recording studio in downtown L.A. belongs to the label, and Ryder is very hands-on, often popping in to check on proceedings. Clearly, he takes a special interest in his brother’s band, so we see a lot of him when we’re in town.
I still have to pinch myself that I’m signed to one of my idol’s labels and he’s now a good friend. As a teen, I worshipped Torment and aspired to be like Ryder. It’s ironic I ended up here, but I couldn’t be happier. The guys know what it’s like to be shafted in this industry, and they genuinely care about the acts signed to their label. They are fair and flexible, and it feels like family. I can’t see us ever signing with anyone else.
“Haven’t had the chance,” Wilder replies, fingers stalling on his Fender Telecaster as he lifts his gaze to mine.
“What don’t I know?” Ryder folds his arms over his chest and a serious expression materializes on his face.
“I broke things off with Toria.”
“Should I say I’m sorry?”
“Hell no,” Linc pipes up. I was wondering how long it would take him. “You should throw a party and celebrate his freedom. That woman is nothing but trouble.”
“Are you okay?” Ryder’s concern bleeds through his tone.
“Yeah. I’m not happy I’m having a baby with Toria because she’s shown her true colors lately, and it’s not pretty, but I won’t abandon my child. I’ll be there every step of the way for my son.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.”
“I will, thanks. And if Zeta wants to send the baby hamper, tell her to go ahead. Toria is living in my Bel Air place at least until the birth.” I’d like to say I’m sure it’ll be appreciated, but with my ex, who the fuck knows?
“Jared bought a new place out in Half Moon Bay. We’re getting the grand tour later,” Wilder confirms.
“You’re welcome to join us. Zeta too if it’s not short notice.”
“She’s not here. She’s visiting her sister with the kids for a couple of days.”
“Then you should definitely come unless you have plans tonight.”
“Sounds good.” Ryder nods as he backs up. “I’m heading to the office for a bit, but I’ll be back later. Have a good one.”
A few hours later, we call it a wrap on the seventh song for our new album and make our way to the roof after saying our goodbyes to the producer and sound engineer.
We stride across the asphalt to the helipad where my helicopter and pilot are waiting. I’m itching to get home so I can see Sydney. Ryder is already seated, and we climb in beside him for the fifty-minute flight to Half Moon Bay.
* * *
After I show the guys around my new house, I tap out a message to Sydney to see if she’s home yet. She replies immediately, confirming she’ll be over in thirty minutes. I send her the takeout menu, telling her to pick what she wants so I can place our order while we wait for her. “Tell me what you want,” I say, handing another couple of menus around to the guys as we drink beers at my kitchen table. Ryder has a soda because he doesn’t drink alcohol anymore. “Sydney will be here shortly,” I confirm as I return to the kitchen. The guys are looking forward to meeting her.
“Who’s Sydney?” Ryder asks.
“Jared’s lost love,” Linc supplies before I can.
Opening an overhead cupboard, I remove a bag of chips and a large bowl.
“Is she the one you write about?” Ryder inquires.
“She’s the one,” I confirm, dumping the chips in the bowl and bringing it to the table.
“This is the girl from New York?” Ryder remembers something I said in passing when I was drunk years ago.
