Rock All Night(45)

There was maybe ten seconds worth of silence.

It felt more like two minutes.

Then we both spoke at the same time.

“Look, I just wanted to say – ” I started.

“Aren’t you going to ask another question?” he said, overlapping me.

We stopped and looked at each other.

Then we both smiled – me shyly, him grinning.

“You were saying?” he asked.

“Um… I just wanted to say that I really liked your song. Back there in the hotel room. I wasn’t criticizing you or anything.”

His smile faded. Between his mouth and his sunglasses, I couldn’t read anything about his expression.

“So… that’s it,” I finished lamely.

He sat there, silent, just watching me.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked, annoyed.

He shrugged, then looked away. “You were right,” he said, and took another sip of scotch.

“…what?”

“You were right. The second and third verse need a lot more work.”

I sat there staring at him. “You agree with me?”

“Yeah.”

“So why’d you bite my head off?”

His lip turned up in the tiniest of smirks as he stared off into the distance. “Sorry.”

“…um… okay…”

Then he looked at me again, and I could see my own reflection in his sunglasses. “But don’t do it again.”

“What, criticize the great and mighty Derek Kane?”

“No, when we’re in the middle of creating a song, don’t speak up. Don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”

Now I was really getting angry. “Why? Because I won’t sleep with you?”

His expression didn’t change in the slightest. It was blank and emotionless as stone.

“No, because you f*cked with Ryan’s head.”

“Oh, really?” I asked sarcastically.

“Ryan is a great songwriter. He is. But he’s insecure as f*ck until it’s finally recorded and set down in final form. He’s always second-guessing things, he’s always wondering if it could be better, if it’s good enough, if he’s good enough. It’s a process. He needs to work through his own shit. We all do. We don’t need somebody coming into the middle of things, giving us their opinion. That’s why we work with the best producers out there – after we’ve decided on what songs we’re taking into the studio and we already have them 80% finished. And that’s why we don’t work with a record company.”

My cheeks flushed hot. “But he asked my opinion – ”

“Because he’s insecure as f*ck.”

“Riley said it sucked – I was just saying that it didn’t.”

“Riley says everything sucks. And Riley has that right. She’s a member of the band. You’re not.”

Now my face felt like it was on fire.

But he didn’t stop.

“Did you see Miles giving us his opinion? No, even though he’s our f*cking manager. You know why? Because he respects us enough to give us our space. He does his thing for us, and we need him, but he doesn’t tell us how to play our f*cking music. Especially when we’re at the very beginning, just figuring it out. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but in the future… if you’re around during another practice session, don’t say anything. Just give us our space.”

I felt several things at the same time. First and foremost, like I should apologize.

But I was also angry at the way he was treating me – and I was skeptical. Everything he was saying was a little too pat and easy. Made him look a little too good.

“Interesting that you didn’t cut me off in the hotel room until after I criticized your verses,” I seethed.


He snorted, looked away, and took another drink.

“Maybe he’s not the only one who’s insecure as f*ck,” I added.

“I’m sure there’s something to that,” he said. “But you f*cked with all of our heads, whether you meant to or not. All I’m saying is, don’t do it again.”

“It would be nice to be asked, rather than ordered.”

He turned his head slowly and stared at me.

It sent a cold chill down my back.

“Alright,” he said coldly. “Pretty f*ckin’ please. With sugar on top. When the band’s practicing, shut the f*ck up.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped.

“Is this how you do all your interviews?”

“We both know this isn’t about me interrupting your band practice. This is about me not sleeping with you last night.”

He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, and you know it.”

“You remember what I said last night?”

“I remember you saying a lot of things last night.”

“Well, I remember saying, ‘I’ll be the rock star and you’ll be the journalist, and we’ll be cool. But no passive-aggressive bullshit or snarky comments.’”

“That was about other women sleeping with you, not about your precious little musical ‘process.’”

“Yeah, well, consider you not butting your nose in where you’re not wanted as part of the deal now.”