14. Lyle
14
LYLE
F rom my spot behind the drums, I have the perfect view of Quinn working her magic on stage. Her voice carries through the arena, pure and strong, as she strums her guitar. The crowd's already warming up to her - I spot dozens of phones recording her performance.
"She's actually getting better at this, damnit," Austen mutters from the wings, arms crossed.
"She was always good," I say, adjusting my drumsticks. "You just didn't want to admit it."
A group of teenage girls near the front row are swaying, singing along to Quinn's chorus. They must've looked up her songs after previous shows.
"Look at that," I nudge Beau, who's watching intently. "Those girls know all the words already."
Quinn finishes her set with a smile that lights up the whole stage. The applause is genuine, lasting longer than that awkward polite clapping from her first few shows.
"Thank you, Boise!" she calls out, and the crowd cheers louder.
As she walks backstage, I catch her wiping her eyes quickly.
"You okay there, songbird?" I ask.
"Yeah, I just..." She gestures toward the stage. "Did you see them singing along? To my song?"
"Hard to miss. You're building quite the following."
Jarron brushes past us. "Don't let it go to your head. They're here for us."
"Ignore him," I say after he's gone. "He's just mad because that group of girls had your face on their poster instead of his."
Quinn laughs, her shoulders relaxing. "I saw that. First time anyone's ever made a sign for me."
"Won't be the last," I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Better get used to it, songbird. This is just the beginning."
She heads off to change for meet-and-greet, and I catch Beau watching her go, that same soft look in his eyes he's had since day one.
I catch Quinn heading toward the hotel exit while the others are packing up their gear. It's hard to miss her cowprint bell bottoms and baby doll top - damn she pulls it off.
"Hey songbird, you coming to The Lotus tonight?" I ask, shouldering my backpack.
She shakes her head, auburn hair falling across her face. "Thanks, but I don't want to crash where I'm not welcome."
"Who says you're not welcome?"
"Come on, Lyle." She adjusts her guitar case strap. "The wondertwins have made it pretty clear how they feel about me."
"Jarron and Austen?" I wave my hand dismissively. "Screw them. Look, come as my plus one. My band date."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Your what now?"
"My band date. It's a thing." It's not a thing, but she doesn't need to know that. "I'll meet you outside The Lotus at ten. We'll show those jerks you belong here just as much as anyone else."
A small smile tugs at her lips. "And if they give me shit?"
"Then I'll remind them who controls the tempo during their solos." I tap my drumsticks against my leg. "So? What do you say?"
She considers for a moment, then nods. "Okay, fine. But I'm not staying if they start acting like assholes."
"Fair enough. Ten o'clock sharp, songbird. Don't leave me hanging."
"I won't." She heads for the door, then turns back. "Hey Lyle? Thanks for being nice to me."
"I'm not being nice. I'm being smart. Someone in this band has to recognize talent when they see it."
The neon sign of The Lotus bleeds purple across the sidewalk as I check my watch. Ten on the dot. An Uber pulls up, and Quinn steps out in a black, long sleeve crop top and high-waisted jeans that hug every curve. Her auburn hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and she's traded her usual minimal makeup for smokey eyes that make the hazel in them pop.
"Damn, songbird. You clean up nice."
"Thanks." She tugs at her top. "Is it too much? I wasn't sure what the dress code was."
"It's perfect. Come on, let's get inside before you freeze."
The bass thumps through the walls as we enter. Quinn's eyes widen at the crowd packed onto the dance floor.
"Want a drink?" I ask, leading her toward the bar.
"God yes. Anything with tequila."
I order our drinks and lean against the bar. "So what's your plan for Thanksgiving? Heading home to see the family?"
Her smile tightens just slightly. "Yeah, headed back. Big family dinner, you know how it is."
Something in her voice doesn't sit right. Maybe it's the way she won't quite meet my eyes, or how her fingers keep fidgeting with her glass.
Before I can press further, I spot Jarron and Austen walking in with their usual entourage of groupies. Quinn notices too and downs the rest of her drink.
"Another round?" I offer, but I can't shake the feeling she's not being straight with me about her holiday plans.
The dance floor pulses with energy as Quinn and I find our rhythm. She's actually a decent dancer, moving naturally to the beat instead of that awkward shuffle most people do. After our third song, she's laughing, really laughing, and I realize it's the first time I've seen her truly let loose since joining the tour.
"You're not half bad, Kennedy," she shouts over the music.
"You sound surprised. Did you think drummers had no moves?"
"I figured you only had rhythm when sitting behind a kit."
A server waves to get my attention, pointing toward the VIP section. Beau's there, gesturing for us to join them.
"Looks like we're being summoned to the cool kids' table," I say.
Quinn's smile dims. "Maybe I should head out-"
"Nope. You're my band date, remember? Where I go, you go."
We weave through the crowd toward the velvet rope. The bouncer recognizes me and lets us through. Jarron's already sprawled across one of the leather couches, two women hanging on his every word. Austen's at the bar, chatting up the bartender.
"Well, well," Jarron drawls as we approach. "Look who decided to grace us with her presence."
Quinn stiffens beside me, but before she can respond, Beau slides over to make room. "Grab a seat. We just ordered bottles."
"Thanks," Quinn says, perching on the edge of the couch like she might need to make a quick escape.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Austen says, returning with drinks. "Figured you'd be home writing sad songs about your ex or something."
"Nah," Quinn replies, accepting a glass from Beau. "I save those for the shower. Better acoustics."
I catch the slight smile tugging at Austen's mouth before he can hide it. Maybe there's hope for these idiots yet.
The blonde on Jarron's left - her spray tan almost matches the leather couch - leans forward, lips curled in a sneer. "So you're the opening act? I thought you'd be... prettier."
"And I thought you'd be more original," Quinn replies, taking a sip of her drink.
Another girl, this one draped across Austen's shoulders, twirls her hair. "I saw your set tonight. My six-year-old niece plays better guitar."
"Does she?" I interject. "Maybe we should sign her instead of wasting time with actual musicians."
Jarron chuckles as he meets my murderous gaze. "Come on, Lyle. We're just having fun."
"No, you're being dicks." I set my glass down harder than necessary. "Quinn's part of the band now."
"Part of the band?" The spray-tan blonde scoffs. "Please. She's just riding your coattails."
Quinn stands, smoothing her jeans. "Thanks for the drinks, but I should go. I've got some packing to do."
"Running away already?" Austen calls after her. "Thought you were tougher than that."
I rise to follow her, but turn back to face them. "You know what? You're right. She's not tough enough. She's too damn good for this shit. While you two were busy collecting groupies, she was building a career from nothing. No daddy's money, no family connections. Just talent and guts."
"Lyle-" Beau starts, but I hold up my hand.
"No. I'm done watching them treat her like she's beneath them. She's earned her spot here, and if you can't see that, maybe you're the ones who don't belong."
That shuts them both up. I swear I love them, but they can be such self entitled pricks sometimes.
I catch up to Quinn outside, where she's already ordered an Uber. Her eyes are bright but dry.
"You didn't have to do that," she says.
"Yeah, I did. That's what family does."
She looks at me sharply. "We're not family."
"Not yet. But we could be, if certain people would get their heads out of their asses."
Her Uber pulls up, and she opens the door. "Thanks, Lyle. For everything."
"Anytime, songbird. See you at rehearsal tomorrow?"
She nods, managing a small smile before sliding into the car.
I pull out my phone and open the Uber app, the neon from The Lotus casting purple shadows across my screen. No way am I sticking around to watch the douche parade continue.