Rock All Night(15)

“No – Riley just likes Big Macs, that’s all.”





10




Sound check went fine. It was boring; I mostly just watched as Riley tested her drums, Killian and Ryan messed with their guitars, and Derek kept saying, “One two three, testing, one two three” into the microphone and singing bits of songs. Down on the floor, I could hear Miles screaming at some poor unfortunate soul.

Two hours before showtime, five guys who looked like Bigger’s poor relations walked up on stage. They were all dressed in black t-shirts and fashionably ripped blue jeans, with tons of tattoos and piercings. They approached Derek like Roman Catholics from a small village going to meet the Pope: with fear and wonderment. Their eyes were wide, and they looked around the arena like it was the Sistine Chapel.

As soon as Derek saw them, he yelled out, “Heyyyyy!” and went over and gave the apparent leader a big hug and slapped him on the back in a bro-like way.

“Oh, man, we just wanted to say thank you for this opportunity, man,” the huggee enthused.

“Hey – you deserve it,” Derek said. “You guys are awesome.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” another guy piped up.

“Well, you know – pay it forward, right? Besides, it’s the whole band’s decision. Hey, Ryan – Killian – come here.”

Killian and Ryan wandered over and chatted, and the five newcomers gushed some more. Then Killian and Ryan politely bowed out. Riley ignored them completely as she tested out her drums.

As Derek continued to chat with the guys, I thought sourly about how he much must be enjoying his power trip. Big man, surrounded by sycophants.

Ryan noticed me watching them and came over. “Having fun yet?”

“Loads. Who are they?”

“That’s the opening act.”

“Why are they acting all starstruck?”

“You mean, besides the fact that we’re huge stars?”

I grimaced. “Watch it, Derek’s rubbing off on you.”

“Oh! You wound me, madam,” Ryan grinned.

“Seriously, what’s up with them?”

“Derek’s big thing is that every show we do, we have a local band open for us. Most tours, they’ll have an opening act that’s pretty big already, usually on their way up – or on their way down and trying to make a comeback. Derek insists that it has to be somebody small and local, to give them some exposure. We solicit submissions from local bands on Facebook, and we go through and choose one.”


“Oh.” Now I felt bad. “That’s nice of you guys.”

“Eh… you know. We all support it, but Derek was the big instigator. He feels like it’s our obligation to lend a hand to people who are talented, who could use the break.”

I watched Derek fist-bump and bear-hug the other band’s members, and decided maybe I should stop being a hater and start being a journalist.





11




As the opening act set up, we retired back to the dressing room to find Ryan’s family waiting for us.

Holy CRAP I felt old. Mara must have been 17 now, and Casey was about 13.

And they were still terribly in love with Derek.

They both screamed when he entered the room. He in turn yelled out, “Oh my gosh, it’s my girlfriends!”

He swept them up, one in each arm, and twirled them around like helicopter blades as they shrieked happily.

“Thanks for coming,” Ryan beamed at his parents as he bent down and kissed his mom on the cheek.

Mrs. Miller still looked pretty as always, and Mr. Miller looked tanned and handsome in his polo shirt and slacks.

“Thanks for the vacation, son,” Mr. Miller said happily, then leaned in and whispered, “You would not believe the mini-bar in the hotel.”

“Good – get anything you want. It’s all on me.”

Mrs. Miller fussed with Ryan’s hair. “Are you seriously going out in front of a thousand people with your hair like that?”

I wanted to tell her, More like TWENTY thousand.

“MOM,” he said, backing away out of her reach. Then he gestured at me. “You remember Kaitlyn, right? She had dinner with us one time while I was still in high school.”

Mrs. Miller looked over at me, and a light seemed to go off behind her smile. “Yes, I do. So nice to see you – how are you, dear?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

She looked between me and Ryan. “Are you two…?”

Ryan laughed. “Kaitlyn’s here for Rolling Stone, Mom. She’s writing an article on the band.”

“Ohhh, how nice.”

I could tell she didn’t really have a clue how big that was – but then, I don’t think she quite knew how big a deal her son was, either.

But she definitely remembered something else from that evening long ago.

“That… friend of yours isn’t here, is she?” she asked me, and looked worriedly at Ryan.

I had to stifle a laugh.

I’m sure Ryan had encountered a thousand Shannas by now. I wasn’t sure how many he’d slept with, but…

“No, she’s in New York.”

“Oh. Good,” Mrs. Miller said, noticeably relieved.