Chapter 4 - Roxie
Roxie
“I can’t believe you told them I would do it,” I said to Meghan in the Uber on the way back to my place. We’d stayed for the first half of Rainknife’s set. Despite them being our favorite band, they were kind of a letdown after the amazing Cherry Midnight concert.
“I can’t believe you said no!” Meghan replied. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m not crazy. That’s why I said no! I can’t just upend my life at the drop of a hat, Meghan. I’m not a teenager making bad decisions. I’ll be thirty next year.”
“You’re a freelancer,” Meghan argued. “You can work from anywhere as long as you have your laptop. You’re one of the few people who actually can drop everything to tour with a band for the next three months.”
“I don’t want to be a groupie for a band I didn’t know about before tonight!”
“You wouldn’t be a groupie. You would be Riot’s muse.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After you ran away from the dressing room, he told me that you’re his muse. That he was inspired by the sight of you during the show and immediately wrote a new song.”
“That’s probably what all rock guys tell their groupies,” I replied dryly.
“You’re single!” Meghan insisted. “You’re still young! You don’t turn thirty until next year. What better way to say goodbye to your twenties than to do something crazy and fun?”
It was tempting. But only a little.
“I’ve been trying to add more stability to my life,” I told her. “I just joined a run group. We meet every Tuesday. And I was going to sign up for that yoga studio down the street.”
“You can do all of that after touring with Cherry Midnight for three months.”
“You act like it’s just that simple…” I decided to change the angle of my argument. “What would I tell my parents?”
“Whatever you want. Or don’t tell them at all. It’s not like you’re close with them.” Meghan showed me her phone screen. “Cherry Midnight’s tour ends December 18. You’ll be back in time for Christmas.”
“You just want me to say yes so you can live vicariously through me.”
“Yes!” she shouted, which made the Uber driver glance back at us. “Yes,” she repeated more quietly. “My life is so boring, Roxie. It’s been nothing but fertility drugs and ovulation calendars. And if we do get pregnant…”
“When, not if,” I interjected.
“When we get pregnant, things will get even more boring. Give me something exciting to follow! You don’t even have to sleep with any of them. Just go on tour and see what happens.”
“My life isn’t your soap opera, Meghan.”
She groaned in frustration. “Riot and Roxie. Doesn’t that sound super cute?”
“So you do want me to hook up with him! It’s not just about touring with them!”
“Of course I want you to hook up with him! Did you see Riot? He looks like someone asked ChatGPT to create the personification of the phrase sex appeal.”
“I’m not saying yes, Meghan.”
She sighed and looked out her window. “You used to be fun.”
“Ouch.”
The car pulled up to my house, and we thanked the driver and got out. But I froze when I saw a shadow move by my front door.
“Hold on,” I hissed to Meghan. “Someone’s on my porch.”
The shadow moved and shifted, then a shape materialized underneath my porch light.
“That’s Riot!” Meghan said.
Oh my God.
“Hey!” Riot called out to us. “Can we talk?”
“She’d love to talk!” Meghan said before I could reply. “She’s good at doing more than talking, too!”
I glared at my friend. “Go home.”
She groaned, kissed me on the cheek, then took her time getting in her car. Only when she had driven away did I finally approach the rock star on my porch.
“Can we talk?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Inside?”
“No,” I replied.
He shoved his hands into his leather jacket and glanced to the side, chuckling wryly. It should have been illegal for a man to look that good.
“Listen…”
“I don’t want to be a groupie,” I said before he could give me the same pitch. “That’s for eighteen-year-olds with daddy issues.”
He raised a jet-black eyebrow. “You don’t have daddy issues?”
“I get along with my father just fine.”
“Happy for you.” Riot stepped a little closer, bringing with him the intoxicating scent of whatever cologne he was wearing. “I don’t want you to be a groupie. I want you to join us on tour because you inspired me tonight.”
“Sure I did,” I replied skeptically.
He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and shoved it at me. “What’s this?”
“A new song I wrote,” he answered. “And the start of two others.”
I stared at the pages. I couldn’t read his handwriting and couldn’t read sheet music, but it felt like he was telling me the truth. The words came out of him like even he was afraid to admit it.
“Creative motivation is fleeting,” he explained. “It comes and goes. And I’ve learned that when you find something that reignites that creativity, you should hold onto it for as long as you can.”
His eyes bore into me, dark and intense.
“You have an aura about you, Roxie. I can’t explain it.
I don’t understand it. But you do.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Hear me out. Join us on tour and continue inspiring me. You’ll get to see the country, city by city.
And on top of that, we’ll give you a flat percentage of all royalties from our next album. ”
That got my attention. “Wait, seriously?”
Riot nodded slowly. “We’ll have to talk to our manager about it. But he’s been on our ass to produce a new album, so he’ll be thrilled to learn my writer’s block is gone.”
I felt the pull of his offer. The temptation to do something new and crazy. I’d always wanted to go on a road trip around the country; the only other state I’d ever visited was Louisiana.
But it was crazy…
“I’ll think about it.”
I reached for my front door, and Riot stepped to the side. Blocking my way just a little bit.
I gave him a warning look, but he didn’t move. “Promise?”
“Promise what?”
“That you’ll think about it.”
It was impossible not to see Riot Kane for the bundle of delicious sex appeal that he was. Even if I hadn’t been serenaded by him during the concert, I would’ve given him my phone number without hesitation if he asked. My knees felt weak at the mere thought of disappointing him.
“I promise,” I breathed. “I’ll think about it.”