Rock All Night(127)

Ryan, on the other hand, pointedly took off his bass guitar and laid it down carefully on the stage – just like a piece of art.

Then he stood there and just stared angrily at Derek.

Derek swaggered over to him, gesticulating like your stereotypical pissed-off rapper. His body language matched the lyrics perfectly.

In reply, Ryan help up one fist and gave Derek the finger.

It did not go unnoticed by the audience.

They screamed in approval. The only thing they loved more than Derek was Derek getting his ass handed to him.

Derek flipped Ryan off in return, and the crowd shrieked some more.

Then Derek turned back to the audience and continued with the performance.

Ryan looked over at me with a disgusted expression on his face. Like, What a dick.

I smiled tightly and mouthed, Thank you.

He returned a grim smile and nodded.

In reality, the bass wasn’t that important to the song. I’m not even sure if Jay-Z’s recording uses a bass guitar. It certainly wasn’t missed much in the live performance that night in the MGM Grand.

But its absence meant the world to me.

Apparently Derek had 99 problems, but thought ‘the bitch’ wasn’t one.

I decided on something by the end of the song:

She was most definitely about to become one.





105




That was the plan, anyway.

Didn’t quite work out the way I’d envisioned.

Instead, I seemed caught in a time warp and sent back to the first night I’d seen the band, when I was a wallflower at a dance with the most popular kids in town.

Derek more or less ignored me the entire time. He just hobnobbed with his celebrities, palled around with rock and rap royalty, and signed a lot of bare boobs.

Ryan came up to me almost immediately, though.

“You alright?” he asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah. Thanks for what you did,” I said, truly grateful.


He shook his head and glared out at his best friend clowning amongst the beautiful people. “He can be the biggest f*cking * in the world when he puts his mind to it.”

I reared back slightly in mock surprise. “WHOA – you used more profanity in that one sentence than in the last five weeks combined! You ARE angry!”

“Damn right I am.” Then he grinned. “Good thing my sisters weren’t around to hear that.”

“Or your mother. She might have washed your mouth out with soap.”

“No, my sisters are worse. Even if my mom weren’t here, my sisters would have totally ratted on me.”

I remembered the way Mara and Casey had tattled on Ryan four years ago, the night I ate dinner at his family’s house.

“That’s what little sisters are for. But I don’t think they would rat you out.”

“You don’t know my sisters.”

“No, but I know they wouldn’t want to endanger getting cut off from cool selfies with a rock star.”

He laughed. “That’s true. I guess I finally have a bargaining chip.”

“Seriously, though, Ryan… thank you,” I said, putting my hand on his arm.

He gave me a hug. A really, really good hug. “It was nothing. You should get out there, make him jealous. Turn the tables on him.”

“What, and make out with Riley?” I joked.

He gave an exaggerated look of alarm. “Don’t say that. It’s like saying ‘Voldemort’ in the Harry Potter books. Bad idea.”

“Okay, how about, ‘Make out with ‘She Who Must Not Be Named’?”

“I was talking more about just combining the words ‘make out’ with ‘Riley,’ not necessarily her name itself. She might hear you and decide you’re serious – without double- checking with you first.”

“Like a drive-by kissing?”

“Worse, probably. I would say more, but I’ve used up my allotment of crude language for the evening, so I’ll just leave it to your imagination.”

I laughed. “Okay – thanks for the warning.”

“Alright, then. I need to go talk to these radio guys over here – have fun. But not too much fun.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

He smiled back, then strode off towards a bunch of businessmen in three-piece suits.

Talking to Ryan had made me feel so much better. In fact, talking to Ryan always made me feel better. Why couldn’t Derek be more like him?

Killian was up next. He approached at an angle, his head down pitifully and his eyes lifted up towards me, acting exactly like a dog that expects to get beaten.

Even the plinking on his guitar strings sounded sad and hesitant.

“No hard feelings?” he asked.

“Killian, I told you to play it!” I said, laughing. “It’s fine.”

“So… no hard feelings, then?”

“No. No hard feelings.”

He immediately relaxed, and the guitar tune brightened considerably.

“Good. He was a bit of a tosser tonight, wasn’t he?”

“Uhhh… if by that you mean he was a dickhead, then yes, yes he was.”

“Well. It’s nice that you’re being such a sport about it.”