Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction 2)

“Yeah. Well, just moving into the house is all. He was never gonna totally quit the band… he was just gonna stay in school and live with his parents and only do the band thing on the side. So, yeah, I basically guilted him into chucking the other shit. But once he went all in, that’s when things really took off.

“His parents fuckin’ hated me for that, though. They totally blamed me for making him quit school. They love Derek – loooooove Derek, so they weren’t gonna get mad at him. Killian they’re totally panicked around cuz he’s a pothead. It’s like they think he’s gonna mug them or something, even now. But they don’t really see him as the evil fuck who corrupted their son. Me, on the other hand… not only do they not like the whole mohawk and tattoo and lesbian thing, they think I took Ryan away from them, too. But… I can’t say I blame ‘em. If I was like them, I probably woulda blamed me, too. I’m just glad it worked out so he could say, ‘See? I did the right thing.’”

I was struck by the lack of rancor in her voice. For somebody who was so angry at the world – all of the time – she sounded remarkably philosophical. Even compassionate. I remembered her in Los Angeles, watching Ryan’s family from a distance, and what she had said:

They’re good people. They really love Ryan.

And the line that had really touched me:

It’d be cool if somebody came across the country to watch ME like that.

I hadn’t understood it at the time. But after hearing about Mr. Hopkins and the multiple foster families, I thought I was beginning to.

95

Then something happened that took me completely by surprise.

Riley shook her head ruefully and said, “You should totally ditch Derek and hook up with Ryan.”

Her words were like a bucket of cold water to the face. “What?!”

“You heard me.”

It must have been the combination of alcohol and shock, because I didn’t come back with anything obvious like But I love Derek! or Ryan’s just a friend!

All I could get out was, “Why?!”

“Cuz Ryan’s a great guy. And you’re both just uptight enough to make it work.”

“What, Derek’s not a great guy?”

Riley about choked with laughter mid-shot.

After she’d snorted some whiskey out of her nose, she said, “Look, I like the guy, and he’s a hell of a lead singer – don’t you tell him that, I’ll totally fuckin’ deny it – but he’s kind of an asshole.”

“You’re kind of an asshole, too,” I said, only to realize that I might have just ended the interview with those six words.

Instead, to my overwhelming relief, she grinned. “I know. That’s how I can spot ‘em.”

I thought back four years ago to me and Derek outside Krispy Kreme on highway 78. “But… he’s been sweet to me…”

“Really? When? That time he chewed you out in the bus for talking during the rehearsal? Was that him being sweet?”

Oh yeah.

I’d forgotten about that.

“…I crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed,” I said, in a voice so hesitant that even I didn’t believe me.

“Fuck that noise. I didn’t give a shit. Neither did Killian. Ryan was… okay, well, Ryan is kind of insecure – but Derek’s worse. Derek turns into a raving dick. Ryan just loses his confidence and gets all down on himself till I snap him out of it.”

My eyes widened. “You help Ryan with his confidence?”

“Don’t act so surprised, Blondie.”

I was pretty sure I’d hurt her feelings, and I scrambled to pull my foot out of my mouth.

“That’s not what I – I just meant, what’s he got to feel insecure about?”

“Nothin’. He’s cute as hell, he’s a fucking genius, and he’s the heart and soul of the band. He’s just gone through the last five years of his life thinking he’s less awesome than he is cuz he’s always comparing himself to Pretty Boy Dickhead, that’s all.”

Okay, that was the first time I’d ever heard Derek referred to as ‘Pretty Boy Dickhead.’

But it was also the first time I’d heard something else she’d said.

“What do you mean, he’s the heart and soul of the band?”

She sighed. “Okay, as a drummer, I usually’d rather cut off my right hand than say what I’m about to say… but what’s the most important part of the song?”

“…I don’t know… the lyrics?”

“NO. Don’t be a dumbass, Blondie. Whistle me something by the Sex Pistols.”

“I don’t know any Sex Pistols songs.”

“Jesus Christ, fuckin’ kids these days… whistle me part of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’”

“I can’t whistle.”

“Well fuckin’ hum it, then!”

I hummed a few bars of the chorus of Nirvana’s biggest hit.

“Well, Blondie, you might not be able to blow worth a damn, but at least you can give a hummer,” she smirked. “Derek must be happy about that.”

Before I could come up with a good comeback, she said, “Now do a Beatles song. Any song.”

I hummed ‘Hey Jude.’

“Okay, now do one of ours. Bigger’s, I mean.”

I chose ‘Girl, Please Stay.’

“Okay, what were the words to all the parts of the songs you just hummed?”

“Uh…”

It took me a minute, but I was able to piece together a few lines from each song – although I probably got probably half of the words wrong.

“Had to think about it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“But when I asked you to hum it, you did it right away, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, s– ohhhhhh.”

She nodded smugly. “So what’s the most important part of the song?”

“The… melody? Is that what it’s called?”

“Fuck if I know – I’m punk rock, bitch. Melody, tune, whatever – it’s the part you can hum. That’s what people remember. I mean, yeah, they’ll remember the words – sometimes – but only if they can hum that part, too. Hell, I know tons of people who don’t even pay attention to the words. You tell ‘em what the song’s really about and they’re like, ‘Really?’ And I’m like, ‘Listen to the words, dumbass, it’s right there in front of your face.’”

“What’s your point?”

“Ryan comes up with all the melodies. All of them. Always has.”

I frowned. “But Killian – ”

“Killian’s fuckin’ awesome. He takes whatever Ryan gives him and runs with it – but he never comes up with a tune on his own. He never says, ‘Hey, we should do this.’ He just doesn’t work that way. He riffs on stuff, and goes off in different directions and adds brilliant fuckin’ shit… but he doesn’t write the basic tune. And neither does Derek.”

“But… doesn’t Derek write the songs?”

“No, we all write the songs. We all put in our own parts. Take me, for example – none of those other fuckers could lay down a good backbeat to save their lives. That’s why we all share equal billing on the writing, and we all get 25% of the publishing royalties. So yeah, Derek writes the fuckin’ lyrics. And yeah, he’ll add stuff – I mean, he’s got to sing it, so he does his own thing to make it come out good. But he didn’t come up with the tune for ‘Girl, Please Stay.’ Or ‘Forgot You Were Gone.’ Or any of it. Ryan… he’s the one who comes up with the part that everybody fuckin’ remembers. Derek’s just the one who gets all the credit, cuz the frontman always gets the credit for everything.” She snorted derisively. “But try sayin’ that to Derek and he’ll flip the fuck out. The thing with Derek is, you gotta stroke his ego. And you gotta give him what he wants, or he’ll turn into a dick. That time on the bus when he chewed you out? He was being an asshole because he wasn’t getting what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Here’s a hint: it’s in your pants.”

“No,” I scoffed, “that wasn’t it.”

“Yeah, right. Stop letting the cock go to your brain, Blondie.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means quit making excuses for him just because you like how he fucks you. Here’s the truth: as long as Derek’s getting his way, he’s sweet as pie. Problem is, he needs you to say ‘You’re so awesome’ all the fuckin’ time. And he gets bored real quick. Just remember that.”

I could almost hear Killian’s voice whispering in my ear: It’s in his nay-chuh.

“Ryan, though… Ryan’s a keeper,” Riley finished.

“So you want me to ditch Derek for Ryan?” I asked sarcastically.

“If for no other reason than I’d like to see that smug bastard finally lose one, and Ryan win one.”

“Ryan’s in the hottest rock band in the world. And according to you, he’s the heart and soul behind it. He’s won plenty already.”

“Yeah… just not the one he really wants.”