Ash and Bash exchanged a look.
Ash ran his hand through his hair. The strands tumbled over his eyes. “Actually,” he began, “we were wondering…”
“What?” Ryker looped the shoulder strap over his head and placed Bent’s guitar on one of the waiting guitar racks.
Bash cocked his head. “What about you?”
Ryker’s entire body stilled. She watched him struggle to process what those words might mean.
Instead of saying yes, he held up his hands and took a step back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Spike said. “You’ve got the chops.”
“True,” Ryker agreed. “I can play the songs, but playing alongside Bent and filling his shoes for a tour are two completely different things. I appreciate it, but…” He stumbled to find words.
Tia wished she could help him but understood his position. Ryker was nothing but respectful. There was no way he would come between Bent and the band. It wasn’t in his blood. Playing with them was a dream he hadn’t backed away from. Playing for them in place of their bassist? That was a whole other problem.
Noodles walked over and picked up Bent’s guitar. “Listen, dude, I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”
“Then, you know why I have to say no.”
Forest’s deep baritone ripped through the air. “That’s fucking stupid, lover boy.”
“Stupid?” Ryker asked.
Tia’s head swiveled, trying to keep track of the conversation flying between the men. She opted instead to take a few steps back, giving them room to discuss this new turn of events.
Ryker reached for her, snagging her wrist. “Tell them, Tia. Tell them why it’s a bad idea.”
Understanding his point of view didn’t mean she agreed with it. “Um…”
He turned on her, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean,um?”
“It’s just, the expense for them to get out here was pretty high. The USO doesn’t pay the performers. It’s all voluntary and done gratis. They assist with tour management and transportation, facilitate lodging and other things, but the bands pay for the privilege to play to the troops. It would be a shame for them to leave if they didn’t absolutely have to.”
“I already have people inbound to fill your spots,” Forest rumbled. “Think about the inconvenience to them.”
“It means they can turn around and go back to their families,” Ryker tossed back, continuing his argument.
She couldn’t dispute that, but deployments came in two flavors, depending on the person. It was either a burden or the luckiest break. Promotions came easier to those who were deployed. It generated fodder to put on performance reports when promotions cycled around. There was a very real chance whoever Forest had found wanted the experience to flesh out their promotion package.
“Ryker,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, “maybe they want to be here, and this can help you, too.”
Just like a deployment made for a robust performance review, stepping outside conventional channels couldn’t hurt him. For an enlisted member, the more diversity he could show, the better his chances for promotion.
“I don’t care about that,” he said. “Jeez, is everyone ganging up on me?”
The four members of Angel Fire formed a line and faced Ryker down. Arms crossed, they made a formidable force.
“It’s what Bent wants,” Ash said after a moment of silence that had stretched a little too long.
“I’m not saying yes or no,” Ryker affirmed, “until I speak with him, and speaking to him isn’t happening tonight. I appreciate it, but I gotta tell you, I’m not jumping at the chance.”
With her wrist still clamped in his grip, he pulled her to the edge of the stage. He released her and jumped down. Then, he extended his hand to help her down. Any other time, she would’ve refused his help, but this seemed a poor time to stand on principle. He looked pissed off, and she didn’t know what that meant.
This was his dream.So, why was he turning it down?
TWENTY-FOUR
