The other guys nod, and I know they are on board with the idea too.
“And you’re all okay with having a journalist live with you while you’re recording?”
“If it’s still that hot chick from RockOut, Kayla, hells yeah. She can live in my room, no problem whatsoever,” Gar offers, smirking.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Rod replies. “If we go ahead with this, it’ll be a strictly professional relationship, as in you’re not allowed to hit on her. The schedule is tight, and we won’t have time to find a replacement writer if you drive her away.”
“He’ll behave,” I tell Rod. “And Kayla knows how to knock him on his ass if he tries anything.”
“Don’t be jealous, man. It’s not my fault she kicked you to the curb in favor of my hotter ass,” Gar says, smirking, reminding me of that one time he hooked up with the feisty blonde.
“I’ve never hit on her,” I truthfully admit, and that’s no word of a lie, even if she is gorgeous and alluring.
“Bullshit,” Gar says, pretending to cough.
“Whatever, man.” I eyeball Rod, done with all the posturing. “Kayla knows us, and she’s a cool chick, as well as a shit-hot reporter. She can use the guesthouse, so I don’t see it as an issue.”
I’m determined we give this gig to RockOut magazine as I know they need the business. Rod partly understands the reason for my allegiance, but I’ve never told any of the guys in the band about Zeta, and I intend to keep it that way.
Rod puts his iPad back in his briefcase along with some papers. “If we’re in agreement, I suggest we propose it to Kayla at the press conference. I think it’s best to sound her out first, and then we can officially present it to Harrison Meadows at RockOut.”
We all concur, and then the guys head home to pack a bag before our flight this afternoon. Rod hangs back, but I knew he would.
“I’m worried about you,” he says once we’re alone, seated on my rooftop terrace, sipping the iced tea Maggie prepared before she left for the day.
“I’m fine.”
“This is not fine.” He shoves his cell in my face, and I glance at the pic of me lying naked, sprawled facedown on my bed.
That fucking bitch.
I guess I should be grateful the photo doesn’t show any evidence of the coke we shoveled up our noses or the lines Gar and I snorted off the girl’s tits. “This is you relapsing.”
“I’m not relapsing.” I dig my nails into my thighs. “You know why I needed a blowout. Once the gig is over and I’m back in New York, I’ll stay clean, I swear.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. This is me you’re talking to. The guy who found you busking on the street when you were homeless without a dime in your pocket or any food in your belly.”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He twists around in his chair until he’s facing me. “You’re like a son to me, Ryder. Cindi and the kids adore you and consider you part of the family. I know what demons you have, and I know how much you struggle with your past and with what happened to Lucas—”
“Don’t. Please don’t go there. I can’t do this today.” I walk off back into the house, pouring myself a large whiskey neat.
Rod appears at my side, dragging a hand through his graying hair. “I know you don’t want to play the venue in Orange County, but it’s one night only, and it’s for charity. I’ll charter the jet to take you straight home.”
“You don’t need to change the plans. Gar and Micah will want to go to the after-party, and Scott and I have already agreed to hang out with Sawyer Weston at his brother’s bar. We’ll crash at Sawyer and Noah’s place and then meet the guys at the airport the next morning.”
Sawyer and Noah Weston are fraternal twins who make up one-half of Bastards and Dangerous a.k.a. BAD. They hit the scene around the same time we did, and while there’s a certain competitive rivalry between both bands, we all get along and enjoy socializing after group festivals and events.
Sawyer and I struck up a closer friendship, a couple years back, and I’ve been promising to visit Just an Illusion, the bar his brother Jordan owns, for some time. Tonight’s the perfect opportunity to take him up on his offer, because I loathe being back in Orange County, and I want to get the hell out of there as soon as the show is a wrap. Jordan’s bar is in southern California too, but it’s in L.A. County and gives me the distance I desperately need.
“Okay.” Rod grabs his things. “But when you come back, I want you to schedule an appointment with Dr. Fleming. I know you’ve stopped going to therapy, but you need it, Ryder. You know you do.”
“Therapy isn’t going to fix the mess in the head. We both know that. I’m fucked up, and it’s my penance. It’s the punishment I’ll live with every day of my life, and I’ve already accepted that.” I knock the whiskey back, draining it in one go.
There’s only one person who’s ever been able to bring me any measure of peace, and she’s the one person who’s completely off-limits to me.
CHAPTER 17
Zeta
“You look like you’re about to topple over. You sure you still want to go out?” I ask Kayla for the umpteenth time as we titivate ourselves in the compact bathroom of my eleven-hundred-square-foot condo in Queens.
“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated,” she protests, elbowing me out of the way so she can get at the mirror, and I grin.
Pregnancy has not changed my best friend—my only friend—not a bit.
Well, except for her altered physical features.
Mikayla is a teeny, tiny little thing, and I’ve no clue where she got that ginormous baby bump from. Or how she continues to wear skyscraper heels and still manages to maintain her balance. I tease her constantly that she’s carrying twins or triplets, and she shoves her scan photos in my face every time, pointing at the only baby growing in her womb.
Although I’m undecided about kids, I’m super excited for Kayla and Gage’s baby boy to make his entrance into the world. She’s due in a month, not that she’s letting that slow her down.
We met at RockOut, the magazine where we both work as music journalists, four years ago. Kayla was employed the year before me, and I was recruited straight from college. We clicked the second we met, and we’ve been joined at the hip pretty much since then.
That’s not usual for me.
I don’t make friends easily, and I always have my guard up.
There have only been two occasions in my life where I willingly dropped my walls to let someone in. After the first time ended so badly, I swore I was never opening up to anyone ever again, but Kayla challenged my conviction the instant I met her, and with her determined personality, I never stood a chance.
“I haven’t missed any of Gage’s performances to date, and I don’t intend to start now.” Gage is her baby daddy and fiancé, and he’s also the front man for Savage Mania, an up-and-coming rock band our magazine has been supporting for the past year.
I was with Kayla the night she met Gage. It’s important that we keep our finger to the pulse when it comes to the indie rock scene, so we go out to smaller venues and bars, scouting fresh talent to watch, at least a couple times a week, as well as attending all the bigger musical events and rock concerts which we’re required to report on. Even though I’ve long since given up on my songwriting dreams, as jobs go, I’m lucky, because I’m surrounded by music twenty-four seven, and not many people can say they get to pursue something they’re passionate about.
“Does he know you’re coming?” I ask, leaning into the mirror as I apply a final layer of lip gloss. Gage has been a tad overprotective these last couple months, and I can’t believe he’s happy for Kayla to attend the gig tonight. The crowd tends to be rowdy.
“He’s expecting us, and he said he’d reserve a section near the stage for us.” She runs he
r fingers through her cropped blonde hair, giving herself one last look over in the mirror.
“Sweet.” I smack my lips against her cheek. “Ready to go, or you need another minute to pee?”
“Do you even have to ask?” She rolls her eyes. “I swear this kid is sitting right on my bladder. I need to pee at least four times an hour.”
“At least you don’t have to suffer for much longer, and you’ve had a dream pregnancy. When Jill was pregnant, both times, she had horrible morning sickness that lasted all day, and when that passed, she got really bad heartburn that kept her awake at night. It’s the reason why her and Liam have drawn the line on any more babies.”
“That reminds me,” she says, tugging down her black leggings and panties and sitting on the toilet seat. “I need to send her a card to thank her for all the baby stuff she gave me. It’s saved me a fortune.”
I lean back against the bathroom counter, smoothing a hand over my black leather leggings, enjoying the feel of the material against my skin. “She was just happy to have someone to give it to. I think she finally understands I’m serious about never getting married.”
“Never say never, babe. I used to think the same. And now look at me.” A goofy smile appears on her face, and it’s the same dreamy look she always wears whenever she thinks about her man.
“You did good, girlfriend. Gage is a real catch, and I’m so happy for you.”
“Your time will come,” she says, a more serious note in her voice.
“You know my thoughts on that, and it’s not something I want to dwell on tonight. Let’s just go out and let loose and have some fun.”
The bar-slash-club is hopping by the time we arrive, and I’m grateful Gage reserved a section for us because there’s no way Kayla could stand on her feet all night in this place. I push my way through the boisterous Friday night crowd, clearing a path for my bestie, as I head toward the front of the room. Gage is performing a soundcheck up on stage with the rest of the guys, and as soon as he spots us, he jumps down, making a beeline for his fiancée.
Kayla shrieks as he scoops her up into his arms, cradling her protectively against his massive shoulders as he walks toward the section he reserved. “Thanks, baby.” Kayla grabs him into a deeply passionate kiss as he places her carefully down on a seat, and a pang of longing runs through me. Kayla and Gage are so fucking hot for one another, and extremely open with the PDAs, and, sometimes, I find it difficult to be in their company even though they’re two of my most favorite people in the world.
I slide into the booth and shrug off my leather jacket, reminding myself how happy I am for my friend. It’s just that, looking at how close they are, how much in love they are, reminds me of how good it was with Ryder, and those feelings are always bittersweet.
“Grabbed you a beer, princess.” Gus—Gage’s brother and drummer with the band—says, leaning across the back of the booth, and reaching down to hand a cold bottle to me.
“Thanks for the beer, and quit with that princess shit. I’m about as far removed from a princess as you can get.” I gesture at the tattoos on my arms, my oversized Jim Morrison T-shirt, leather leggings, and studded knee-high boots. With my dark hair, smoky eyes, and red lips, I’m in no way a girlie girl.
“I don’t know about that,” Gus says, blatantly staring down the front of my top. “You’re definitely my kind of princess.”
I shove him back. “Stop staring at my tits, and go finish your soundcheck.”
“But I like looking at them,” he pouts. Coming around the front of the booth, he plants his large hands on the table—hands that have explored my body intimately—and leans forward, pressing his mouth up to my ear. “You have the best tits, and I really want to fuck them again.” He stares at me, his eyes darkening with lust. “C’mon, babe. One more night. No strings attached. You know you want to.”
For the first time in a long time, I actually kinda want to go back for seconds. I’m strict with my one-time rule, and I’ve only bent it for one guy—Brody from work—but that was a bad judgment call, because now he won’t stop pestering me for dates. But I’m seriously tempted with Gus, because he was a terrific lay, where most times the hookups I engage in are usually a disappointment.
Sex and I have a checkered history, and I know my predilection for casual hookups and one-night stands isn’t the norm—hell, it’s basically frowned upon by society—but I have a strong sex drive, and no desire for a relationship, so how else am I expected to meet my needs? And why is it okay for guys to fuck around, but girls are called sluts when they try to take control of their sex lives? I’m always safe, the sex is always consensual, and I make it clear up front that it’s a one-time thing, so I don’t see that I’m doing any harm.
I know Aunt Jill is concerned about me, and my therapist agrees it’s related to my upbringing and my past, but I’m not my mom, and I won’t let anyone else make me feel like I’m doing something wrong. I’m not charging men for sex, and I’m the one who’s always in control.
“I know you’re into it,” Gus adds. “And you know I’m not looking for a relationship either. With the band going places, I fully intend to take advantage of all the pussy that comes my way.” He winks, rubbing his thumb across my bottom lip.
“Spoken like a true rock star,” I tease, knowing full and well how hedonistic the lifestyle is.
“Don’t make me beg, babe. Say you’ll spend the night with me tonight, and I promise you won’t regret it.” He pins me with puppy-dog eyes, which just looks ridiculous on his broad six-foot-four frame. But I’ve got to hand it to the man—he’s charmingly persistent.
“Gus, stop bugging, Zeta,” Gage interjects, slapping his brother on the shoulder.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, and, without warning, Gus grabs my head and pulls my mouth to his, kissing me deeply with a promise of more to come.
“We can leave right after the set.” He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh. “I’m already so fucking hard for you.”
“I didn’t say yes!” I splutter.
“C’mon. We both know you did.” With a quick peck to my lips, he saunters off with a cheeky smirk.
“Your brother just completely ambushed me,” I complain to Gage.
He chuckles, pulling Kayla in closer under his arm. “Yeah, he seems to have that effect on women.”
“Not on this woman,” I protest, taking a healthy glug of my beer.
“I’ll tell him to back off if you want,” Gage offers in all seriousness.
“Nah, it’s cool. I can handle your brother. Don’t worry about it.”
He turns to Kayla, smiling down at her like she hung the moon. “I’ve gotta go, babe. Remember what I said, no dancing. It’s fucking crazy tonight, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”
“Knock it off, you two,” Kayla argues, her dark gaze bouncing between me and her fiancé. “As much as I’m dying to get out there and shake my booty, I’d never do anything to jeopardize my baby, so you can both cut the crap talk. No one needs to mollycoddle or babysit me.”
She puts her hands on her hips and juts out her lower lip, and I can’t help laughing because she just looks so funny with her swollen baby belly and fierce expression. “I’m damn well able of looking out for myself and my unborn child.”
“I fucking love you to bits, Kayla,” Gage exclaims, kissing her softly as his hand tenderly rubs her stomach.
“And I love you too, stud,” she says. “Now get out there and do your thing.” He kisses her again before leaving, and Kayla practically melts into the seat.
“You two are nauseatingly in love. It’s disgusting,” I joke.
“We are puke-inducing, aren’t we?” she proudly agrees, sipping her water.
“Yep. That you are.” I hate the pang of longing
that races through me. And I hate that my mind automatically returns to Ryder.
You’d think, after all this time, that I’d be over him, but there’s no getting over that boy. I’ve tried everything, and I can’t erase him from my mind. It doesn’t help that his gorgeous face is plastered all over social media and our TV screens. His outrageous actions ensure him prime coverage, and even if I wanted to avoid any mention of him, it’s a virtual impossibility.
I’ve lost count of the amount of sex videos and tell-all’s he’s been the subject of. Ryder has taken advantage of all the perks that come with being one of the world’s hottest rock stars, and he seems so far removed from that deep, sweet boy I knew in juvie. The one who traded his guitar to keep me safe. The boy who visited me every week for months after he got out. I still struggle to accept the contents of that letter. To understand why he left the way he did.
“You should just talk to him,” Kayla says, interrupting my troubled inner thoughts.
“To who?” I frown, playing dumb.
“You know who.” She treats me to one of her intense stares. “Ryder.”
I shake my head. “No good would come from that.”
“You know that’s bullshit. You need closure, Zeta, and he’s the only one who can give you that.”
“I can’t just show up after all this time demanding answers.” I fold my arms over my chest as the band kick off with their opening number.
“Why not?” she questions.
Kayla knows about my past with Ryder, but she’s sworn to secrecy, and I know I can trust her not to mention a word to anyone, especially not the man himself. “Because he’s long since forgotten about me, and I’d only end up even more humiliated. We were just stupid kids, and it wouldn’t have gone anywhere anyway.”
She taps a finger off her lips, looking contemplative. “I think you’re wrong.” She eyeballs me seriously. “I’ve interviewed them every year for the past five years, as you know, and I’ve never seen a man so unhappy or more troubled than Ryder Stone.”
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