Chapter 25
Angus
Ryleigh and I get to soundcheck at exactly four o’clock. I catch the look Tate gives me but ignore it, heading for my drum set and checking to see if everything is set up the way I want it. Bobby’s the best, but sometimes I tweak things depending on my mood.
Today I’m in a good mood.
I manage to ignore Jonny and just focus on my own shit. I can’t bury my head in the sand forever, but I can for today. Maybe even tomorrow.
I’m trying not to overthink things, but this new development in my relationship with Ryleigh soothes me. I enjoyed waking up next to her this morning and her smile being the first thing I saw. I like the way she calls me on my shit and doesn’t let me get away with much. I love the way she smells and tastes and how she kisses. I’m fucking wild about the way she enjoys everything I do to her in the bedroom.
And more than everything else, she makes me happy.
I didn’t realize it until we got to the arena and she walked away before I could kiss her. The last time I got this much satisfaction out of a relationship was when I joined Crimson Edge. And I don’t sleep with any of them.
As soon as sound check is over, I hand my sticks to Bobby and let the band know I’m not quite done. Then I make a beeline for where Ryleigh and Kirsten are catching up. There’s a twinkle in Kirsten’s eye as I approach—the girls have been chatting about me—but I don’t mind. In fact, I’m about to give the whole crew something to talk about.
I drop a quick kiss on Ryleigh’s lips as I say, “We finished sound check faster than normal, so I have about ten minutes to do that video you wanted. You still game?”
“Oh!” She looks startled but recovers quickly. “Hell yes! Let’s do it.”
“Give me a sec to grab my stuff.” I run over to Bobby and fill him in and then motion to Ryleigh to follow me on stage.
“I just want you to be yourself,” she says. “Talk about your process in getting ready for a show, and then I’ll record how it looks when they pour the water on you during the show tonight. Hopefully, I’ll get some good shots so I can edit them into this video.”
“Sure thing.” I get up on my set and twirl my sticks. “Tell me when.”
“Okay… 3-2-1—I’m recording!”
The rest of the band is in the wings, obviously planning to watch, but it doesn’t bother me. I can talk about music, and my drums, for hours. And I don’t get the chance to do it very often, so this is fun for me.
I take a bottle of water that Bobby had left for me to drink and pour some on the snare drum. “So the whole thing happened by accident,” I say into the camera. “I was hot one day, and I poured an ice-cold bottle of water over my head. Some of it got onto the snare and this happened—” I tap on the drum and water bounces up. I tap a little harder and more water flies around. “I thought it looked cool, so then I started doing it on purpose. With a lot more water and a lot more energy.”
We record for three or four minutes and then Ryleigh sticks her phone back in her pocket.
“That was awesome,” she says. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” I get up again and throw an arm around her shoulders as we walk off stage.
She’d made it clear she expected me to own it if I marked her, and the two hickeys on her neck are impossible to hide, so I’m doing as she asked. I catch the looks of surprise from Mick and Jonny, Tate just smirks, and Sam is talking quietly with Kirsten.
“What are you doing?” Ryleigh whispers to me.
“If there’s going to be talk, it’s easier to rip the band-aid off,” I whisper back.
“O-kayyy.” She shakes her head as she draws out the word but also doesn’t move away from me.
“I see two people who should not be left unsupervised,” Tate quips as we head toward our dressing room.
“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want to supervise,” Ryleigh shoots back. “We can be loud.”
Tate laughs.
“How long has this been going on?” Mick asks.
“A day,” Ryleigh responds before I can. “Maybe thirty hours or so…you got a problem with it?”
I really love her sassy mouth.
“Nope. Just curious.” Mick grins at me and goes over to the table of food that’s waiting for us.
“How come you don’t want to record the rest of us doing fun shit?” Tate demands, pretending to pout.
Ryleigh laughs. “That wasn’t for Rock Harder —it was for my social media channels. If you want to do something with me, I’d love it. But not everyone feels that what influencers do is important. Or even legitimate. So I don’t like to ask until I’m sure the person is okay with it.”
“How come?” Mick asks, his mouth full of pasta.
“I guess there’s a lot of misinformation, along with a lack of understanding about how it works.”
“I don’t really get it, either,” Tate admits. “But I don’t hate on it.”
“At the end of the day, I put up videos where I talk about rock music. For example, when the Crimson Edge album came out, I listened to it and loved it. I made a video talking about what I liked about the band, the album, and specific songs. People have started to pay attention to what I’m listening to. I don’t have a million followers or anything, but I’m getting there.
“No one has to watch my videos or comment on them, but for some reason, they do. And the more engagement I get, the more clicks, likes, and follows, the more sponsorship opportunities come up. That’s part of how I make money.”
“What happens if you don’t like a band?” Jonny asks.
“I try to be more positive on my channel, so I don’t go out of my way to talk about a band I don’t like. Like Karnal Death. I can’t stand their music, but I keep that to myself.”
Karnal Death is Callum’s band.
“And you make money doing that?” Sam asks curiously.
“More than I’ll make working at Rock Harder ,” Ryleigh says.
“So why bother working with a magazine when you have your own thing going on?” Tate asks, cocking his head.
She hesitates.
“It’s complicated,” she finally admits. “There’s a legitimacy to it. My dad wanted me to be a…real journalist. He made me promise before he died. And the other thing is the benefits, like health insurance.”
There’s a moment of silence as everyone mulls that over. News got out that Ryleigh didn’t go to the doctor because she doesn’t have insurance, so I know they’re thinking about that.
“I never realized how privileged some of us are,” Kirsten says. “That my family could provide it for me.”
“Or that Hart Records provides it for all of us,” Sam adds. “And for Nobody’s Fool as well.”
“Exactly,” Ryleigh says. “A group plan is a lot cheaper, both for the individuals and the company providing it. That’s a big part of the reason why I want to be hired full-time with Rock Harder . It also opens doors that might otherwise be closed. If I reach out to a management company and ask for backstage passes, it sounds so much better to say, ‘hi, I’m Ryleigh with Rock Harder Magazine ,’—a news source everyone has heard of—versus, ‘hi, I’m Ryleigh from the Rockin’ with Ryleigh social media channel…’”
“That makes sense,” Mick says, talking with his mouth full again.
“Would you swallow already?” I demand.
“That’s what he said!” Tate and Jonny quip together.
Then everyone laughs, including Ryleigh.
“So now you know the whole sordid story,” she says, picking up a plate and starting to get food.
“Do you think you’ll be happy working for Rock Harder ?” Tate asks her.
She shrugs. “I won’t be un happy. And I can still do the social media stuff, which is way more fun.”
“But will they give you assignments like this or will you have to come up with your own ideas?”
“Both. Sometimes opportunities come up, and my understanding is that they try to be fair in giving everyone a chance. Most of the staff writers are older guys, in their thirties and forties, several of whom have families, so I might get an edge being that I don’t have responsibilities keeping me at home. But other times they’ll get first dibs because they’ve been there longer.”
Everyone settles at the long table set up where we can eat, and they continue asking Ryleigh questions about Rock Harder and Rockin’ with Ryleigh. I don’t know if this is a good thing, though, because while they were friendly with her before, they seem a lot friendlier tonight. It can’t be a coincidence that now that they know we’re together, they’re a lot more curious about her work.
“I can’t believe you did exactly what I warned you not to do,” Tate murmurs under his breath when Ryleigh excuses herself to the restroom.
“Last time I checked, I didn’t need your permission to date someone.”
“I just feel like this could go wrong in so many ways.”
“If it does, I’ll deal with it.”
“Like you dealt with keeping your identity a secret?”
I sigh. “I really hoped at least you would let that go.”
“I have, but it still happened. And if you break her heart, how hard will she go after the band?”
“What if she breaks my heart?” I demand, scowling at him.
He just laughs. “Yeah, right. Your cold, black heart is unbreakable.”
Damn.
That’s low.
It actually kind of hurts my feelings.
But only kind of.
Because he’s right.
My heart is usually pretty impenetrable.
Usually .
Ryleigh is different.
A weird feeling washes over me, and as I gaze over at where Ryleigh’s getting a bottle of water: I’m falling in love with her.