Hard as Rock (The Rock Star's Seduction 3)

71

We left under a dark cloud. My mom and brothers were great; it was my dad that was the problem. He was cold and distant the entire time.

On the other hand, my mom was a total sweetheart. “Come see us again soon as you can,” she said as she gave Ryan a hug.

Tim and Rob tried to be cool, but that only lasted for about 30 seconds. Then they were begging for one last selfie with Ryan before we hit the road.

While the boys were busy, Mom came over and got me alone. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“If it’s your father, don’t mind him – ”

“It’s fine, Mom. Seriously, it will be okay.”

She gave me a long, searching look, then finished with a hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” I said – and meant it.

Before we left, I hugged my father, and Ryan shook his hand. It was awkward – more like keeping up appearances than anything else. But then it was over, and we were off.

Tim drove us to the nearest rental car place, and he and Rob helped us get our bags out of the trunk.

“Hey, not to be pushy – ” Rob started.

“But you’re going to be anyway,” I interrupted.

He ignored me. “ – but could we get tickets to your next show?”

Ryan hesitated. “Um – sure – but it might take awhile. We’ll be recording our next album for months, and I don’t know when we’re going on tour next.”

I knew he was thinking about whether the band would even be together for one more performance, let alone a tour.

Tim picked up on the hesitance in Ryan’s voice, though he couldn’t know the reason. “Don’t bug him,” he told Rob.

“I was just asking,” Rob said petulantly.

“Quit asking,” I snapped, which got me a nasty look.

Ryan laughed at our bickering. “How about this – once the band starts recording and everybody has gotten back into a routine, I’ll have you guys come up and sit in on a session. How does that sound?”

My brothers stared at him in awe.

“You serious?” Tim asked.

“Holy shit, that’s awesome!” Rob exclaimed.

“Ryan,” I said, a bit of warning in my voice. He’d already been nice to my brothers way beyond what was called for – and now he was writing a check he might not be able to cash.

“It’s cool,” he said, and winked at me. “We’ll work it out.”

When my brothers finally drove off, I think it was the happiest I’ve ever seen them in their lives.

“That was nice of you,” I said to Ryan as we walked inside the rental place.

“Whatever I can do.”

“You’re not worried that – well, you know…”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

He sounded calm and unconcerned.

Maybe he really DOESN’T care if the band breaks up.

I didn’t like thinking about it, though, so I let the topic drop.

Ryan rented an SUV, the best the rental agency had. It was really nice – very comfortable, super plush. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was a little nostalgic for a powder blue 1969 Mercedes convertible. The SUV seemed ordinary by comparison. In fact, the whole experience was ho-hum and totally non-rock-star-ish. We stood in a line, Ryan paid by credit card, and then we were off. No one even recognized him at the register. No drama, no issues.

Responsible. Real-world. What ordinary people do.

But I knew it wasn’t an experience I would remember for the rest of my life.

72

We got into Athens about four hours later and drove into the gated community where Ryan lived. His two-story house was extremely nice, though understated from the front. In the expansive backyard was a pool, a hot tub, and a goldfish pond, all situated amongst a beautifully manicured jungle of flowering plants and fruit trees. A barrier of closely-spaced firs ringed the yard, shutting off all visual contact with the neighbors.

“What are you going to do about the rental car?” I asked.

“We’ll return it tomorrow.”

Inside the house, family photographs and pieces of artwork hung on the walls. Just like South Dakota, a grand piano sat in the middle of the house, and there was a massive studio filled with guitars, computers, and speakers. Ryan showed me to the upstairs master bedroom, where I unpacked my bags in a closet that was bigger than my New York apartment.

Ryan had called his part-time housekeeper while we were on the road, and she had stocked the refrigerator with food. We sat down to a late lunch of filet mignon and asparagus he grilled out on the patio, along with a bottle from his wine cellar.

As we ate, I was a little uneasy. Now that I was finally in his house, it was all…

real.

The entire situation.

I had just moved in with him.

Holy shit.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied, then realized I needed to come up with some sort of excuse for my fidgetiness. “I just… I was wondering how it’s all going to go with the rest of the band.”

“We’ll probably start finding out pretty soon.”

We did.

73

Riley was the first. She showed up the next afternoon in typical Riley fashion: drunk and smelling like she hadn’t bathed in ten days.

From where I was upstairs, I heard Ryan answer the door. My heart froze in my chest; I half expected to hear a deep, booming voice start cursing at him.

Instead, it was a slurred teenage girl’s.

“What up, fucker?”

“Riley!” There was a pause, during which I assumed hugs were being exchanged. Then – “You smell like a brewery.”