12. Hayden #2
Something tugs at me. Is it the overlay of resignation in his voice? “I appreciate it.”
His grin is my reward, which I return for a moment.
Inside the restaurant, lighting is dim despite the sun outside.
Booths line the room. Wood paneling is on the walls.
The menu is printed above the counter, offering a variety of sides that can be added to the cheesesteak.
I allow Río to order while I calculate the cost. At least this won’t put too much of a dent in my wallet.
I approach the register. “I’d like a cheesesteak with peppers, onions, mushrooms, and provolone, please. Oh, and a diet soda.” The clerk rings up our orders and looks to Río for the total.
“I’ve got it.” I pass over my credit card before the drummer can even pull his wallet out of his jeans.
Río picks up the tray and walks us over to a booth. “I didn’t mean for you to pay. I’m supposed to be showing you my hometown delicacy.”
“Which you are,” I contradict him. “Besides, it’s not much.” I can afford this luxury. No more, though.
We sit and seeing UC’s drummer here inspires me.
I grab my phone and click on the camera.
Certainly not as good as my actual Sony, but it’ll do in a pinch.
“Smile,” I order and Río obliges. Soon, I’m taking lots of shots both with and without him.
Details of the restaurant. The handwritten menu on the chalkboard.
Río sitting alone, but ready to stir up trouble.
In a good way.
When did my opinion of him morph?
The server arrives with our lunches and all my meandering thoughts cease as I bite into the best darn cheesesteak of my life. “Mmmm.”
Around a mouthful of his decadent sandwich, Río says, “Told you.”
I wipe my mouth. “This is so good.” I take another bite and before I know it, my cheesesteak is gone. With my fingers, I pick up every last morsel. “This was fabulous.”
“Much better with beer,” he remarks. “But still damned good.”
A little girl, about nine years old, approaches our table. “Mr. Sullivan?”
My lunch companion gives her a megawatt smile. “You can call me Río.”
“Río,” the girl tests out his name. “I love how you play the drums. I started playing because of you.”
He gets out of the booth and bends down to her height. “I’m very honored. Can you show me a paradiddle?”
A parawhatsis? The little girl has no problem with his word as she begins beating a rhythm on her leg.
Río encourages her, and the two end up playing the beats together.
Her father walks up behind the pair, videotaping the encounter.
I walk over to him as the two drummers finish.
“Would you like me to take a photo of the three of you?”
The father nods, not taking his gaze away from his daughter and, if I’m not mistaken, his rock star boy-crush. Smiling, I direct the threesome to stand together and snap shots on both their camera and mine. It’s wonderful to see Río interact so easily with a child.
“Keep practicing,” Río tells the little girl. “One day you can take my place with the band.” He holds up his hand, which she high-five’s. To the father, he says, “Please give your name to Hayden here. She’s with UC’s PR. When we’re next in town, I promise to leave tickets for you at Will Call.”
The father appears shocked, but his daughter jumps up and squeezes Río. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. Río, I mean. You’re the best drummer. I promise to keep practicing hard.”
After they leave, Río and I return to the SUV and go to the hotel.
Except for comments about the little girl at the outset, the ride is quiet after I tell him about his father’s email.
I suspect Río is putting on mental armor for the ceremony later.
Plus seeing his father and stepmother. I try to broach the subject several times, but Río shuts everything down.
Guess this is how he compartmentalizes the performance from the rest of his life.
In the room, we change and—all too soon—a notification comes that the limo’s here.
The awards ceremony, itself, is a wonderful affair. Río receives the accolade with an unusual humility. He even tells a story about how he got into playing drums because it was either that or mixed martial arts, and he wasn’t into sports. The audience laughs.
Inside, I cry for the little boy who only wanted attention from his father.
The entire time, I scan the crowd for his “Pop” and “Stepwitch.” My gaze lands on an older, distinguished gentleman next to a woman about half his age.
The man’s thinning blond hair has more than a little bit of grey and, while Río has a ready smile, he wears a constant scowl.
How could this man have anything to do with the birth of UC’s freewheeling drummer?
The younger woman at his side is dressed for the red carpet, as if she were the one being honored.
Her makeup is flawless and her waist-length hair cascades down her back in a typical Kardashian style.
For a nanosecond, I wish I could meet his biological mother. Not your problem, girl.
I refocus my attention on Río and take more photos using my proper Sony camera. Since this is an awards ceremony, I’ve been posting these to keep fans up to date. Comments by them on social media have been very complimentary. Here’s hoping we’re turning the tide on his bad press.
All too quickly, the formal part of the ceremony ends. The members of the Philadelphia Drummers Society surround Río for official photos. He’s given drumsticks and led over to a drum kit, where he plays for the group. Then each of the members take turns playing with him. It’s touching.
The couple I guessed is his parents approach the outskirts of the group. I make my way over to them. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, I presume? I’m Hayden Vaughn, and I’m with the band’s PR team.”
The gentleman stands taller, not quite achieving his son’s six-foot height. “Nice to meet you. My boy’s really made a name for himself with his music.”
He doesn’t sound like the awful person Río made him seem. With caution, I reply, “He’s very well respected in the music industry.”
The man’s head bounces. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s something. When he was growing up, I wasn’t sure if he’d even make it out of high school. Good to see he managed to make something of himself after all.”
Okay, this is more like the man Río described. Before I can sing the drummer’s praises, his stepmother adds, “Where are the paparazzi? I expected there to be more cameras.”
Oh boy. I begin to calculate how I can keep these two away from Río before they cross paths. The President of the Philadelphia Drummers Society approaches. “Excuse me, Hayden. I’d love to get a few more photos of our honoree playing drums with our members.”
Bradley interjects, “How about with his parents?”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don’t curse, but this jerk is doing exactly what Río accused him of—trying to steal the limelight.
Of course, the President plays right into his plan. “That would be wonderful. We always like to include the people who supported the musician along the way.” The three of them walk toward where Río’s wailing on the drums as if he’s playing in the Barcelona stadium again.
Guilt makes me try to prevent this meeting. Of course, my feeble attempts fail when his song ends and the president calls him over. I hang my head for having caused this unfortunate situation.
“Look who came out to support you,” the society’s president says, clapping his father on the back.
“Son.” He extends his hand. “Congratulations.”
Pushing down bile, I take photos. Río and his father shaking hands.
Río hugging his stepmother. Well, more like an air hug, there’s so much room between their two bodies.
She turns to me, motioning for more pictures.
Sick to my stomach, I oblige, including one where all three men give the thumbs up.
A reporter from a local paper comes over and takes professional photos.
Bradley volunteers he’s the CEO of some company, and I tune him out.
All my focus zeros in on Río, who’s earlier joy has been eclipsed.
Before my eyes, I can see he’s reverting to his boyhood role.
One of acting out in order to gain any sort of attention.
The PR woman inside of me roars. How can I make this tolerable for the UC drummer? Or at least end this?
I pull out my phone and make a big production out of clicking on a text. My phone shows my sister tried to call me—I don’t have time to deal with that right now. Guilt pricks, but I ignore it.
“Oh!”
My shout garners the attention of everyone nearby.
Exactly what I was aiming for. I shake my head, then look around the room, focusing on Río.
I plaster on a smile, then approach the President.
“I’m so sorry to have to cut this evening short, but I just received a text from UC’s manager.
Río has to return to Spain sooner than anticipated. ”
Concerned, the President asks, “Is everything okay?”
I wave. “It will all be fine, but the jet is already refueled. We have to leave now.” I grab Río’s arm and practically drag him out of the room.
Once we’re in the limo returning to our hotel, I let my head rest against the back of the seat. Emotions rage throughout my body. Guilt. Shame. Pride. Attraction. Embarrassment. Inadequacy. Determination. Excitement.
“Hayden, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I thought you needed to leave.”
The drummer stills. “You made up Luke’s text?”
I shrug.
He throws his head back and laughs.