But I never considered us more than work acquaintances. When I left town, I simply told her I would be moving back home to be near my family and she wished me luck. I never would have guessed she’d be upset if I didn’t call her when I came back to Westborough.
“Okay, first off, babe. We’re not here to bombard Phoebe with questions about her old job. We’re here to visit with her and to meet the baby. And second,” he says, turning to face me, “yeah, why didn’t you call Denise and tell her? You should see the shit the new social media person is posting. It’s worse than tabloid trash.”
I grimace. Of all the guys in the band, Ryder had the worst reputation before he married Denise. Thinking of ways to spin his exploits into funny anecdotes and delightful banter was almost a full-time job all on its own. Almost like bailing him out of jail could have been Denise’s full-time job before he came to terms with how in love with her he was and settled down. If he’s saying the label’s been handling social media poorly, then you know something’s really wrong.
Denise waves him off. “He’s right, but it’s merely one more thing the label’s been doing to piss us all off. Can you believe they want to stage some scandals to draw more attention to the guys? As if any of them would agree to fake an affair for the tabloids. Not anymore, anyway.” She pins Ryder with a pointed glare before turning back to me. “It’s ridiculous.”
“But not unheard of. It’s the music industry.Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, baby. They do that shit because they know it will sell records. People love a scandal.” I never enjoyed using that method, despite some of my colleagues swearing by it. I preferred to paint the bands in a more favorable light, as much as that was possible with a bunch of guys in the music industry. Because, let’s be real, some of them come by their tabloid coverage honestly.
Denise nods in agreement. She’s been around long enough to know how frequently it comes up. It’s actually a pretty common tactic used by media managers. Nothing says “look at me” more than an illicit affair. It also encourages the illusion of availability that some labels insist is necessary to attract female fans. As though women don’t like music if they can’t imagine themselves in a relationship with someone in the band.
“We’re too old for that shit,” Ryder says. “We all have wives and kids. We want to make the music, but we don’t want the drama anymore. Isn’t that right, baby?” He leans over and kisses Denise on the head. She looks up at him with a dreamy smile. “Hell, we’re all pushing forty. Aiden’s already there.”
Aiden plays drums for Sleeping Dogs and he’s the oldest member of the band. If memory serves, he got married this last year. In fact, in the year since the label fired me, I think all the guys in the band have gotten married. Not that I found any decent social media coverage about any of them. I saw some blurry tabloid photos of a Vegas wedding for one of them and relied on the rumor mill for the rest of my information. I’m sure you can guess how much I trusted that source.
“Have a seat, Ryder. I’ll get us some coffee and we can chat.” I leave my guests in the living room and head to the kitchen to make some coffee. I’ve got the pot started brewing when I hear a commotion from the other room.
“Holy shit, you’re Ryder Sullivan.” It’s Gavin’s voice, squeaking as it hasn’t done since he started puberty, chased by a brief cry from Lincoln. “Ryder Sullivan is in my sister’s living room. Ryder Sullivan is sitting on the sexy blue couch. I’m so going to it marry that thing now. Let Phoebe try and stop me.”
I can hear Ryder and Denise chuckle.
“It’s good to meet you. Why don’t you take a seat, man?” Ryder says. “Stay here and keep us company while your sister gets coffee.”
Gavin makes some sort of noise before the murmur of conversation continues at a lower volume. Ryder always seemed to be the most personable member of the band and the way he’s engaging with my brother proves it. I finish with the coffee, load the carafe, cups, and cream and sugar onto a tray, and make my way back to the living room where I find Ryder standing with Lincoln in his arms. Gavin is sitting on the couch with the squirmy toddler holding his hands and standing on his legs.
“They traded,” Denise tells me with a chuckle. “Your brother loves babies almost as much as Ryder does.”
I laugh, setting the tray on the coffee table and taking a seat on the couch. “He surprised me when I had Lincoln. I wasn’t aware how much he loved babies before that. He’s a teenage boy. How many teenage boys do you know that love babies?”
“Hey,” Gavin protests. “None of that. You know toxic masculinity has no place here. Lots of guys love babies. Not all guys are comfortable saying anything about it, that’s all.”
“He’s right,” Ryder says, lowering his head and inhaling the sweet baby scent of Lincoln. “When a man says he loves babies, there’s always a possibility someone is going to think there’s something…weird about him. Women love it, of course, but men can be dicks about it. It’s obviously complete bullshit, but it can be hard for us enlightened men sometimes.” He chuckles. “Good thing I don’t give a fuck what people think. I love babies and kids. They’re awesome.” He bends and sniffs Lincoln’s head again. “Especially that new baby smell. I can’t get enough of it.” He looks at Denise and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Forget it,” she says with a laugh. “I’m not having another baby just so you can smell to your heart’s content.”
“It’s science, babe,” Ryder pouts. “Babies have an addictive smell that triggers the dopamine pathways in the brain to light up. I can’t help myself.”
I laugh. “Well, Lincoln might smell pleasant right now, but before Gavin brought him in here, he’d shit himself from top to tail so badly he needed a bath. The smell coming off him was anything but addictive, let me tell you.”
Denise bursts out laughing and looks at Gavin. “And you took care of that? Damn, kid. Youarea good uncle.”
“No kidding,” Ryder adds. “Our little Cole there was the blowout champion and no one ever stepped up to take care of it. Never mind my brother, I’ve known the guys in the band for twenty years and they never even offered.”
“That settles it, then. I am officially the best uncle.” Gavin looks at me. “Told you.” He turns back to the raven-haired little girl who’s squeezing his hands while standing on his legs. “I’m sorry you’ve had such crappy uncles, kiddo. But you know me now, so all is not lost. I can fill in when necessary.”
Cole giggles a little toddler laugh and abruptly headbutts my brother in the face, a loud crunch sounding on impact. I snort a laugh before I can stop myself.
“Cole!” Denise scolds. “Not again, sweetie. How many times do I have to tell you, we don’t headbutt our friends?”
“Ow, shit,” Gavin groans. “What’s your head made of, kiddo? Rocks?”
Ryder laughs and passes me Lincoln so he can lift Cole off of Gavin. “Sorry, dude. I forgot to warn you to watch out for that. She comes to the gym with me when I teach self-defense, and so far that’s her only move.”
“I can see why she sticks with it.” Gavin pinches his nose and wiggles it, grimacing. “It’s very effective,” he says, sounding stuffed up. “I think I better get some ice.”
“Sorry about that,” Ryder says. “The good news is, you’ve clinched that best uncle spot for sure now. She rocked you and you didn’t even drop her.”
“See?” Gavin says, that nasal tone still in his voice. “I knew I was the best uncle.”
