Chapter 8
Ryleigh
I hadn’t meant to stand there staring, but his drum solo was… mesmerizing .
That’s the only way I can describe how it felt.
I’d been sucked in the moment it started, and my feet moved of their own volition. My all-access pass gives me the ability to go almost anywhere, for any reason, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself from getting as close as possible.
It was that compelling.
I knew he was talented, but tonight’s solo was next level.
I’d been rooted to the spot, watching, drinking in every movement. His hands moved so fast I couldn’t even see what he was doing. Water dancing up around his face every time he hit the drumheads, his long hair flying in every direction—it was spectacular.
This is one of many reasons I’m infatuated with this band.
But more than that, I’m a little starstruck by Angus in particular.
The guys are all good-looking and talented, with their own charm and personality, but there’s something different about Angus.
And when he caught me staring at him right after his solo, that familiar spark sizzled like we’d touched.
The look we shared was raw heat.
Pure lust.
I can’t even properly articulate what happened just now.
But it was intense.
And even though he’s an arrogant ass, he makes my heart beat faster.
I felt the magnetism that night in my hotel room before we argued and being this close to him during a performance has me twisted up in knots. I’ve never been starstruck before. I grew up around rock stars. Whenever Dad had a chance, he’d take me to shows, so I stopped being affected by the rich and famous years ago.
So this thing with Angus has to be something else.
It’s a visceral reaction that goes beyond the fact that he’s the gorgeous, talented, and captivating drummer for Crimson Edge.
He literally takes my breath away.
And that’s dangerous.
I have a job to do and he’s part of it, so no matter what my nervous system—or any other parts of me—might think, I have to stay professional and keep him at a distance. Well, something of a distance. I can’t ignore him. But I have to make sure we’re never alone again.
That shouldn’t be too hard since he doesn’t seem to like me any more than I like him. At least, that’s how it feels when we talk. Whenever we look at each other, something else happens.
I move farther back for the rest of the show and wind up next to Sasha, who flew in because Nobody’s Fool’s album just officially went platinum and she’s going to surprise them with the news.
“Does it ever get old?” I ask her. “Watching them night after night?”
She smiles. “Sometimes? I wouldn’t say it gets old, but I have responsibilities that go beyond my work. I have a husband and two kids, and he’s back at the hotel putting them to bed while I’m here. So while I love this, and the show itself never gets old, I do feel that pull to be with my family.”
“That’s understandable. At least they were able to come with you.”
“Well, my husband plays professional hockey so once he has to start training camp, I’ll have to be at home, back to full-time mommy duties. Yes, I have a nanny and can fly out for special shows and meetings or whatever, but I’m not letting a nanny raise my kids. And we want one more, so that should slow me down a little.”
I chuckle. “Three kids. I can’t even imagine.”
“I could never imagine it either. But I always knew I’d have them with Anton. I was mesmerized the minute I met him, and that was all she wrote.”
“Was it love at first sight?” I ask curiously.
“It was… something . I’m not sure it was love. We were young so hormones played a part in it. But once we started talking, I was completely hooked. I’m a firm believer that fate gives you all the information you need—it’s just a matter of deciphering it sometimes.”
“I guess I’m still waiting for my message,” I say, laughing.
She nods. “Trust me—you’ll know. It will probably come out of nowhere too. When you’re least expecting it.”
Like being completely transfixed every time your eyes lock? Or watching him play the most mind-bending drum solo in the world? Is that what it feels like?
Unfortunately, I can’t ask her any of that.
I stare back at the stage, watching Angus as he does his thing.
I’d love to talk to him about the water aspect of his show for Rockin’ With Ryleigh. My viewers would enjoy an inside look at something that specific, and I don’t think it’s the type of thing Rich would care about.
“Do you think Angus would do an interview for Rockin’ With Ryleigh?” I ask Sasha. “Specifically to do with how he uses water for his show?”
“Sure. Why not? He loves talking about the drums.
“He seems… closed off,” I say. I want to call him unfriendly but that’s not the right thing to say. “As if he doesn’t like having the press around.”
“That’s probably true, but he has to do some whether he likes it or not. It’s part of the job.” She pauses. “Do you want me to ask him for you?”
He probably wouldn’t like that, so I shake my head. “Nah. I’ll hit him up tomorrow. Thanks, though.”
“Well, Lexi told me about the story you’re going to do, and I really appreciate it. We haven’t come up with a way to address what’s going on with her, but this feels right. Like it was meant to be. So anything you need, just let me know. And if the guys from Crimson aren’t cooperative, I’ll talk to them. It’s not like tattling—that’s literally why you’re here so don’t worry about giving me a head’s up. Even if it’s after I go home.”
“Thanks, Sasha.”
Not that I’m going to take her up on it.
The last thing I need is them resenting my presence because I ratted them out to Sasha.
No, I’ll find a way to win them over just like I did with Lexi and Kirsten.
* * *
I bump into Angus right after they come off stage and hurry after him.
“Hey, Angus?”
He turns, looking impatient. “What’s up, Ryleigh?”
“I wondered if I could ask you for a favor?”
“You can ask. No guarantees I’ll say yes.”
Yikes. It doesn’t seem like he’s in a good mood at all.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Would you allow me to take video of me asking you some questions about your drum show, how you use the water, stuff like that?”
“Why?” He looks annoyed.
“Why what?” I ask in confusion. “Why would I want to make a video asking you about something you do that’s really cool?”
“The fans don’t care about the how; they just like the end result.”
“But I care about the how…”
“Lucky for you then, you get to see it behind the scenes. Talk about that.”
“Why are you being a dick?” I ask in frustration.
“Why are you so annoying?”
We glare at each other.
“Fine. Whatever.”
I stalk in the opposite direction, shaking my head.
Is it really that big of a deal to ask him to do that for me? Any attention I bring to the band is good. Isn’t it? Apparently, not to him. And if he thinks I won’t rat him out to Sasha, he’s delusional. I’m done with this game, where he goes hot and cold every five minutes.
I need to get some air, but since this is Crimson Edge’s hometown, it seems like everyone and their brother are hanging out.
Sam’s mother is here, Tate’s parents, and a handful of people whose names I’ve already forgotten. Jonny is making out with a blonde as if they’re not surrounded by friends and family, Mick is talking to two girls who appear to be trying to convince him to take them with him, Tate is chasing one of the roadies from Nobody’s Fool with a water cannon, Sam and Kirsten are deep in conversation with his mother, and I suddenly feel like a fish out of water.
As nice as the girls have been, I’m not one of them. And butting heads with Angus is getting tiresome. This is my job, and he’s making it harder on me. He doesn’t have to like me, but Sasha said he needs to cooperate, so I’m going to remind him of that.
I don’t see him in the backstage area, so I wander out back toward where the bus is parked. There are trucks and semis back here too, and Crimson Edge’s roadies are busy packing their gear into the trucks, so I try to stay out of their way. The door to Crimson Edge’s bus is open, and my gut tells me Angus is nearby.
I’m just about to get on the bus when I hear voices raised in anger.
“I told you not to come!” That’s Angus’s voice.
“We’re brothers, and I miss you. Plus I like the music. What the fuck, dude?”
“Someone could recognize you, and then they might recognize me .”
Recognize him?
What is he talking about?
I’m frozen in place, listening.
“Jesus, Auggie, no one cares about me.”
“You’re still a Hollingsworth.”
Hollingsworth?
The pharmaceutical billionaire Hollingsworths?
I’m confused, but rooted in place, listening.
“Alden, you need to leave. Before someone recognizes us and everything blows up in my face.”
“Dude, you’re bummin’ me out. I want to meet Nobody’s Fool and?—”
“I’ll make it up to you, okay? Please, can you do this for me?”
“But you guys are leaving Minneapolis and then?—”
“Dammit, Alden, I’m not fucking around. You have to go.” I hear footsteps and realize they’re about to leave the bus.
I scurry around the bus and press my back flat against the side, my heart thumping as I hold my breath.
If Angus catches me, I’m done.
There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll make sure I get sent home.
But now my curiosity has gotten the best of me.
If he’s one of the Hollingsworth heirs, that’s big news.
The kind of thing that would make Rich chortle with glee.
The kind of thing that could get me a staff position—with health insurance.
I hear their footsteps as they come off the bus and their voices fade as they walk in the opposite direction. I wait another minute and then peek around the side—they’re gone.
Whew.
I pull out my phone but hesitate for a few seconds.
This is the kind of thing that might get me the job I desperately need.
And I don’t owe Angus anything.
Especially not tonight.
RYLEIGH: I think I have a scoop. What would you say if I told you that Angus Jeffries is actually one of the Hollingsworth sons?
RICH: Are you sure?
RYLEIGH: I overheard him talking with Alden, and he called him his brother. And it wasn’t a figure of speech—he flat out said he doesn’t want the band to find out who he is.
RICH: Hang tight—I’m doing a deep dive on him right now.
RYLEIGH: The thing is, if I break the story, they’ll almost definitely send me packing. Can you release it under someone else’s name?
RICH: I’m looking for proof as we speak. And yes, I’ll take credit for the initial story, citing a bogus source on the tour. You can take it from there because if the band doesn’t know who he really is, you’re going to have a front-row seat to the fireworks. And THAT will be a story that puts you on the map.
RYLEIGH: The band probably already knows, though.
RICH: Either way, the public doesn’t know. And there’s no doubt why he’s hidden his identity if that is him. There will be fallout either way. I’m pulling up public records now and it appears that Angus Jeffries legally changed his name… about ten years ago.
RYLEIGH: From what?
RICH: Angus used to be August Hollingsworth, the third.
Holy fucking shit.
The heir to the Hollingsworth pharmaceutical dynasty.
And he’s right here under my nose.
Oh. My. God.