Rock All Night(8)

Oh shit…

I edged behind Ryan as protection.

“Simmer down,” Derek said as he walked past her to the bar.

“Yeah, be nice, Riley,” Ryan admonished her.

“Ohhhh, I’ll be nice,” the little drummer girl leered. “I’ll be nice to her allllll night long.”

EW.

“Riley, Killian… this is Kaitlyn Reynolds,” Ryan announced.

As soon as he said it, the room went quiet. As in dead silent. Even Killian’s fingers froze on the guitar strings.

Riley’s jaw dropped open. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Really?” the guitarist said, looking over at Derek.

“The one and only,” Derek confirmed.

“SERIOUSLY? This is her,” Riley said in a disbelieving voice, like You’re kidding, right?

What the hell are they acting so surprised for?

While all this was going on, I wanted Derek near me. Ryan was nice, but I wanted Derek.

I looked over at him at the bar and caught his eye, but all he did was smirk at me like, You want it to be professional? Well, let’s keep it professional, then.

I scowled at him.

Fine.

Asshole.

I looked up at Ryan. “Why does everybody keep saying that?”


“What, being surprised about who you are?”

“Yeah.”

Killian chuckled as his fingers started dancing over the strings again. “You’re kind of famous around these parts, luv.”

He sounded like a young Paul McCartney, if Paul McCartney were really, really stoned.

“…wwwwhy?” I asked with trepidation.

“Do you really have to ask that question?” Derek said, in a deliberate echo of our conversation down in the bar.

I shot him another look. He just grinned, knowing he’d gotten my goat.

“Wow, you know how to pick ‘em, D,” Riley said. “Great rack, but dumb as f*ck.”

God, she was worse than a construction worker.

I frowned.

Wait – how DO they all know who I –

I closed my eyes. I could have slapped my forehead when I realized it.

The songs. Of course… the songs.

I turned back to Derek. “You told them who you were writing about?”

Riley burst out laughing. “He didn’t have to tell us anything – it was ‘Kaitlyn this, Kaitlyn that’ the whole f*ckin’ first album. Your name was in every other goddamn verse. We had to hold a band meeting and strong-arm him into changing the lyrics.” She cocked her head and looked me up and down as though judging livestock. “From the way you were all gone on her, D, I thought she was Miss America and Miss December all wrapped up into one. She ain’t all that… but I’d still hit it,” she added, as though she’d be doing me a favor.

I slipped behind Ryan a little bit more.

“You’re not making a very good first impression, Riley,” he scolded her.

“The f*ck do I care what kind of impression I make?”

“Nowhere to go but up,” Killian said genially as he took a drag on his joint.

“Yeah – exactly! Nowhere to go but up. Hey, Blondie!”

Is she talking to me?

I was the only blonde in the room, if you didn’t count half of Riley’s mohawk.

“…uh… what?”

“You into chicks?” she asked eagerly.

“…nnnnno.”

“Aaaah, we can fix that,” she said, and waved her hand like it was no big deal. “After one night of me goin’ down on you – ”

EW.

At that exact moment, Miles suddenly reappeared from another room, or wherever he’d been hiding for the last few minutes. “Christ, Riley, can’t you keep it in your pants for at least five goddamn minutes?”

“No, I can’t. Hey, Blondie, did Miles give you the boot speech?”

Before I could answer, she turned to the manager. “Hey, Miles, didja? Didja give her the boot speech?”

“Piss off, Riley.”

“Ha haaaa – you did! ‘Ah’ve gah a shuvell in me boot.’ What else ya got in your boot, Miles?”

“What didn’t you understand about ‘piss off’?”

“‘Av ya got a pint in your boot?” Riley prattled away in a hilariously bad English accent. “‘Av ya got a guv’nor in your boot?”

“You’re not even making sense – not that you ever do. Oy, and you – ” Miles snapped his fingers at Derek behind the bar. “What the f*ck did I tell you? No more drinking before the show!”

In answer, Derek very deliberately picked up his glass of amber liquid and took a long swig, never breaking eye contact with Miles the entire time.

“That’s right, keep it up, you stupid sod,” Miles lectured. “Go an’ piss yourself onstage, for all I care.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Riley snorted. “Hey, D, throw me some Jack!”

“Don’t – ” Miles warned, but Derek picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and lobbed it underhanded into the air.

I freaked out. I totally expected it to crash to the floor and shatter in a million pieces and a tidal wave of whiskey –