Rock All Night(114)

“Nothin’. He’s cute as hell, he’s a f*cking genius, and he’s the heart and soul of the band. He’s just gone through the last five years of his life thinking he’s less awesome than he is cuz he’s always comparing himself to Pretty Boy Dickhead, that’s all.”

Okay, that was the first time I’d ever heard Derek referred to as ‘Pretty Boy Dickhead.’

But it was also the first time I’d heard something else she’d said.

“What do you mean, he’s the heart and soul of the band?”

She sighed. “Okay, as a drummer, I usually’d rather cut off my right hand than say what I’m about to say… but what’s the most important part of the song?”

“…I don’t know… the lyrics?”

“NO. Don’t be a dumbass, Blondie. Whistle me something by the Sex Pistols.”

“I don’t know any Sex Pistols songs.”

“Jesus Christ, f*ckin’ kids these days… whistle me part of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’”

“I can’t whistle.”

“Well f*ckin’ hum it, then!”

I hummed a few bars of the chorus of Nirvana’s biggest hit.

“Well, Blondie, you might not be able to blow worth a damn, but at least you can give a hummer,” she smirked. “Derek must be happy about that.”

Before I could come up with a good comeback, she said, “Now do a Beatles song. Any song.”

I hummed ‘Hey Jude.’

“Okay, now do one of ours. Bigger’s, I mean.”

I chose ‘Girl, Please Stay.’

“Okay, what were the words to all the parts of the songs you just hummed?”

“Uh…”

It took me a minute, but I was able to piece together a few lines from each song – although I probably got probably half of the words wrong.

“Had to think about it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“But when I asked you to hum it, you did it right away, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, s– ohhhhhh.”

She nodded smugly. “So what’s the most important part of the song?”

“The… melody? Is that what it’s called?”

“Fuck if I know – I’m punk rock, bitch. Melody, tune, whatever – it’s the part you can hum. That’s what people remember. I mean, yeah, they’ll remember the words – sometimes – but only if they can hum that part, too. Hell, I know tons of people who don’t even pay attention to the words. You tell ‘em what the song’s really about and they’re like, ‘Really?’ And I’m like, ‘Listen to the words, dumbass, it’s right there in front of your face.’”


“What’s your point?”

“Ryan comes up with all the melodies. All of them. Always has.”

I frowned. “But Killian – ”

“Killian’s f*ckin’ awesome. He takes whatever Ryan gives him and runs with it – but he never comes up with a tune on his own. He never says, ‘Hey, we should do this.’ He just doesn’t work that way. He riffs on stuff, and goes off in different directions and adds brilliant f*ckin’ shit… but he doesn’t write the basic tune. And neither does Derek.”

“But… doesn’t Derek write the songs?”

“No, we all write the songs. We all put in our own parts. Take me, for example – none of those other f*ckers could lay down a good backbeat to save their lives. That’s why we all share equal billing on the writing, and we all get 25% of the publishing royalties. So yeah, Derek writes the f*ckin’ lyrics. And yeah, he’ll add stuff – I mean, he’s got to sing it, so he does his own thing to make it come out good. But he didn’t come up with the tune for ‘Girl, Please Stay.’ Or ‘Forgot You Were Gone.’ Or any of it. Ryan… he’s the one who comes up with the part that everybody f*ckin’ remembers. Derek’s just the one who gets all the credit, cuz the frontman always gets the credit for everything.” She snorted derisively. “But try sayin’ that to Derek and he’ll flip the f*ck out. The thing with Derek is, you gotta stroke his ego. And you gotta give him what he wants, or he’ll turn into a dick. That time on the bus when he chewed you out? He was being an * because he wasn’t getting what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Here’s a hint: it’s in your pants.”

“No,” I scoffed, “that wasn’t it.”

“Yeah, right. Stop letting the cock go to your brain, Blondie.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means quit making excuses for him just because you like how he f*cks you. Here’s the truth: as long as Derek’s getting his way, he’s sweet as pie. Problem is, he needs you to say ‘You’re so awesome’ all the f*ckin’ time. And he gets bored real quick. Just remember that.”

I could almost hear Killian’s voice whispering in my ear: It’s in his nay-chuh.

“Ryan, though… Ryan’s a keeper,” Riley finished.

“So you want me to ditch Derek for Ryan?” I asked sarcastically.

“If for no other reason than I’d like to see that smug bastard finally lose one, and Ryan win one.”