“Same thing.”
She looked over at me, and I could see the wheels turning. In fact, I could see a whole list of insults forming, all involving ‘Yoko’ – but then her eyes flicked fearfully over to Derek, and she shut down. Didn’t say a thing. Apparently didn’t even want to
hint
about the issue in front of him.
Whoa.
Of all the issues surrounding Riley’s paranoia about the band breaking up, this was definitely a benefit.
It didn’t apply to Miles, though. He got off the phone and immediately launched into me. “Christ, what are
you
doing here?”
I looked up at Ryan. “See?”
“She’s our good luck charm,” Derek informed him.
Miles looked at him dubiously. “You signed off on this?”
“Absolutely.”
Miles shook his head and scowled at Derek. “Whatever you’re playin’ at – ”
“I’m not playing at anything.”
Riiiiight,
I thought.
“Killian agrees with me – don’t you?” Derek asked.
“I do,” the guitarist said as he pulled out his vaporizer, the pot-smoking doodad he’d used in the car on the way to Joshua Tree.
“Not in here!” Miles barked.
“It’s a vaporizer,” Killian pouted, like a kid who’d been told to put away his toys. “No smoke, no smell.”
“Then why don’t you use that fuckin’ thing ALL the time? Alright, everyone, sit down.”
The band members complied, though within seconds Derek and Riley were kicking each other on the sofa, and Killian was sucking down a hit from his slick little bit of technology.
Just like old times.
“CHILDREN!” Miles shouted, and everyone stopped. “Right, then – you should know I’ve booked you wankers to open the Austin City Limits Music Festival.”
Riley scrunched up her face. “Isn’t that some sort of fuckin’ country thing?”
“No, you’re thinking of – ” Miles paused. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of.”
“It comes on after fuckin’
Sesamee Street
or something.”
“They’re a show on PBS, yeah, but there’s a huge music festival, too,” Ryan said.
Riley turned on Miles. “Why the fuck’re you putting us in a country music show?”
“It’s not a country music show,” Miles growled. “Pearl Jam will be playing, Outkast, Beck – ”
“So, fuckin’ has-beens,” Riley griped.
“Hey!” Ryan and Derek both yelled at the same time.
“Pearl Jam is great,” Derek snapped. “So’s Outkast and Beck.”
“Show some respect,” Ryan admonished her.
“Fuckin’ has-beens,” Riley yelled back at them.
“There’s over fifty indie acts, too,” Miles said.
“Why can’t you get us in Riot Fest?” Riley complained.
“Because Riot Fest is punk bands.”
“We’re punk!”
“No we’re not,” Ryan said. “We’re rock, not punk.”
“I’M punk!”
“You
are
a punk,” Derek smirked, “but that’s not the same as punk rock.”