“Yup,” he said handing Ry the flask. A commiserating gesture.
“Did she hear about what happened last night?”
“Yup.”
“Fuck,” Ryder hissed, knocking back Oscar’s homemade moonshine. The shit was awful, but if he was going to go in and beg to keep his job, he needed the boost.
“Yes, and she’s pissed my friend. You might have to fuck her.”
“So Ben can kick my ass?” Ben was Liz’s husband and business partner. He was in his late sixties but he was a mean bastard. Ryder could probably take him, but the only senior citizen whose hip he was interested in breaking was Archer Manning’s. Lifting the flask to his lips once more, Ryder took another deep pull before screwing on the lid and handing it back to Oscar. “Wish me luck.”
The kitchen was bustling with activity. The cooks were busy preparing for the Monday lunch rush while the wait staff tucked silver into cloth napkins. Ryder slipped by them all with his head down, avoiding the questioning glances. Working in a restaurant was like high school, and he’d just been called to the principal’s office.
Liz was seated in the private dining area in the back. She was sipping from a teacup, looking over some paperwork. Her eyes met his and she sighed, throwing the pages down on the table. “Sit,” she ordered.
He did as he was told, slumping down in the chair. His arms were relaxed at his sides, his outward demeanor cool, though inside he was seconds away from falling to his knees and begging.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t toss you out on your ass right now?”
“Because I’m sorry,” Ry said in earnest. He was sorry, not for taking his girl back, but for leaving the way he did. He let his wrath get the best of him. He was, after all, his father’s son.
“You’re sorry?” Liz scoffed. “Tell me why you’re sorry.”
“For causing a scene in the middle of the dinner rush, for leaving before my shift was over, and for threatening to punch a customer,” Ryder droned, listing his transgressions. It sounded even worse out loud.
He was so fucked.
“Not just any customer,” Liz added. “Jared Foster is like a son to me and you embarrassed him in my restaurant.”
Ryder inhaled, taking a page from Kitty Cat. Jared, of course he was friends with Liz, because that was the way his luck was set up. “He was on a date with my girlfriend,” Ryder gritted. “What was I supposed to do? Ask if I could get them clean silverware?”
“You’re supposed to keep your personal life out of my restaurant.” Ryder sat there, staring at her. She was right and there wasn’t much else he could say. “Is this girl really worth risking your job?”
“Yes.” Without doubt.
Liz arched her perfectly sculpted brow. “She was on a date with another man. How can you say that?”
“I know how it sounds, but we had a fight and shit—”
“Language, Ryder. I’m still your boss.”
“Are you?” he asked hopefully, pressing his tattooed hands onto the white linens for support. He went there to beg, but he never actually thought he had a snowballs chance in hell.
“I should kick your ass out the door and not think twice about it—”
“Liz, I promise—”
“But I like you,” Liz sighed, picking up her teacup. Her pink, button-down blouse was pressed within an inch of its life. She was the definition of sophistication. He imagined it was what Jamie’s mother was like. Theirs was a world he never understood, never wanted to understand. Ryder always existed on the fringe, and that was fine with him, but for the first time since he’d met Kitty Cat, he was beginning to realize that might change.
“I’m not fired?” Ryder asked. A slow grin crept across his face.
“No. It took a lot of balls to come and face me. I respect that, but if anything like this ever happens again you’re out. Don’t even bother showing up. This is your only chance.”
“It won’t, I swear.”
“If Jared comes in for lunch or dinner, or to say hello, you are to stay out of sight until he’s gone.”
“That’s fine with me.”
“And,” she paused, before adding, “you’re suspended for four weeks.”
“Four weeks?” Ry groaned, dragging his hands down his face. What the fuck was he supposed to do for money for the next four weeks?
“I can make it permanent,” Liz warned. “I should make it permanent.”
“No. Don’t. Thank you.” Ryder stood so fast the chair screeched across the hardwood. ”Four weeks. I’ll take it. Thanks Liz.”
At least he still had a job.
Jamie allowed herself three days to dwell on the fact that she was nothing more than a high-end prostitute. She cried, got angry, broke things, but now she was done. She couldn’t live in the suffering of her past any longer. She needed to move on. She needed to be mindful and focus on the things that mattered.
Sarah was due back from maternity leave in another week and Jamie was determined to take on more serious projects. Hosting The Local Spotlight had been a great opportunity. It garnered Jamie more recognition at the station and helped pad her reel, but her heart was in investigative reporting. It was why she had gotten into journalism in the first place. Jamie had dreams of going to war-torn countries and exposing political scandals. She longed to report from the White House or the front lines, uncovering the ugly truths of the world.
Who more qualified to talk about the ugliness of men than Jamie?
After the morning meeting, Jamie found herself outside the door to Tina’s office. She inhaled, standing there, hand raised, poised to knock, but something held her back. All she can say is no, Jamie thought. That was literally the worst outcome and even it wasn’t so bad.
So, why couldn’t she bring herself to knock?
They say it’s best to never meet your idol because they would inevitably let you down, but Tina, quiet, reserved, and sharp as a tack, was everything Jamie hoped she would be. If anything, it was Jamie who felt inadequate.
“Are you looking for me?” Tina asked from behind.
Jamie jumped, her face red with embarrassment. Turning to face her boss, she stuttered, “Uh…yeah. D…do you have a minute?”
“Yeah,” Tina said lifting her paper coffee cup, “I’ve got five.”
Swallowing back her anxiety, Jamie followed Tina into the office. It, much like the woman herself, was utilitarian. No plants or fancy paper weights, just a large steel desk, and a set of chairs. Four TV’s were mounted on the wall to the left, each playing a different twenty-four-hour news channel. Everything was clean, sleek and served a purpose.
“What’s on your mind?” Tina asked taking a seat.
Jamie sat in the chair across from her and smiled nervously. She was being ridiculous. This was Tina, the woman who had been her mentor for the last year and a half. She could talk to Tina.
“Sarah’s coming back next week,” she blurted out. So much for the thoughtful speech she practiced that morning with Javi.
“I’m aware,” Tina nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. Her eyes stayed trained on Jamie, like she was expecting what was coming next.
“Right,” Jamie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Get it together James. “Were you also aware of the town hall meeting next Thursday?”
“Vaguely, but Frank does the political reporting for WSEA-9. That’s his assignment.”
“But what if I tagged along?” she asked. Frank was old. Not in the distinguished, Dan Rather kind of way, but more like your senile grandfather who confuses you with your cousins.
Tina set her coffee down and steepled her fingers in front of her lips. “How old are you Jamie?” Tina asked, giving Jamie her patented, I’m about to crush your dreams, look.
“Twenty-four.”
“Do you know what I was doing at twenty-four?”
“No.” Jamie settled back into her chair, preparing for the lecture that was sure to come.
“I was covering school closings and newborn bab
y pandas. Grunt reporting. The stuff no one else wanted to do. I did it. All of it.”
“I know I need to pay my dues, but I was just hoping—”
“That’s your problem,” Tina said cutting her off, “you hope. In this business, there’s only hard work and connections. Do you know why Frank has the political beat? Why David reports on crime? How I got to where I am?”
“By paying your dues?” Jamie groaned. She rarely got in trouble as a child. Her parents mostly ignored her, but on the few occasions they did bother with parenting, she never felt a shred of remorse. Being reprimanded by Tina, however, made her feel like the biggest disappointment in the world.
“Because we paid our dues,” Tina repeated. “But not just that. While we were out there doing the work, we talked to people, built relationships, created a rapport with locals, networked. And you know what happened?”
“No,” Jamie muttered.
“People started calling me with story ideas. Suddenly, I got the scoops. That’s when my producers took notice. That’s when my career took off.”
Jamie sank down in her chair, her shoulders sagging in defeat. The only thing that sucked worse than being told no, was being given a valid reason for the rejection. Tina wasn’t being unreasonable or unfair, she was being honest. Jamie, for all her affirmations and claims of hard work, was still just a spoiled little rich girl.
“Thanks, Tina.”
“Don’t thank me Jamie, just do the work.”
“I will. I promise.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry, she chanted as she made a beeline for the door.
“Wait,” Tina drawled.
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Her voice cracked. Stupid feelings. This was Ryder’s fault, she wasn’t always this… emotional.
“Go with Frank, but remember Jamie, nothing in this business will be handed to you. You’ve got to earn it.”
Ryder was the romantic.
He found inspiration in the little things. His art was fluid. It was both his escape and his cage. Beauty was everywhere and nowhere, but it wasn’t until he crossed paths with the sad, green-eyed girl that he truly understood what it meant to be inspired. Every move Jamie made fueled his soul. From the way she rubbed her tattoo across her lip when she was anxious, to the way she called everyone on their bullshit, and especially the way she melted under his gaze.
Ryder never realized how dull the world was until Kitty Cat made it shine. His love for her was dangerous, reckless, and because of it, he was suspended without pay for four weeks. If he had the chance to go back and do it again he would, because Jamie was worth fighting for. The only problem was he was suspended without pay for four fucking weeks.
Crowds at the band’s shows were steadily increasing, and thanks to social media, the Lithium Springs fan base was also. The first shipment of t-shirts had arrived and they were selling faster than any of them expected. Even with things going well with the music, Ryder didn’t have a savings and not getting a steady paycheck made it hard to eat, let alone afford studio time.
He couldn’t deny his happiness, though. Standing under the blinding stage lights, sweat dripping down his chest, he was in his element. They were gods among men.
“Okay Rabbit Hole, before we continue, I want to take a minute to introduce you to my boys, my brothers.” Ryder leaned into the mic as he stared out into the audience. It wasn’t a packed house by any means, but everyone in attendance was there to see Lithium Springs.
Ryder looked to his right and the crowd erupted in cheers. “This pretty motherfucker with the badass bass guitar is Javi. Behind me, on drums, that’s my boy, CT.” Ryder paused, allowing his patented rock star gaze to wash over everyone in attendance. “I’m Ryder, but after tonight, you can call me Sex God.”
Javi plucked out the opening chords to the song on his bass. CT came in on drums, then Ryder joined in with his guitar. It was the first time they played it for an audience. The collective pulse of the room thumped in time with the beat as he growled into the mic. By the second verse, the crowd went crazy.
Sex God was a hit.
Grant stood in the center of Dave’s office shooting the shit with a mystery man in a black Mad Season t-shirt. The guy was probably twice their age, his gray hair was pulled into a ponytail and he looked like he hadn’t missed a meal in years.
Javi eyed the guy, giving him a once over, before asking, “River of Deceit or Long Gone Day?” It was a test, one that would determine if they were going to take this dude seriously or if they needed to jump Grant’s ass for wasting their time.
“Both are amazing,” Pony Tail smirked, “but, Artificial Red is next fucking level.”
Ryder, CT, and Javi exchanged impressed glances before plopping their asses down on the sofa. They still didn’t know who the fuck the bastard was, but if he was a Mad Season fan, they’d at least listen to what he had to say.
“One more question,” CT said, his voice gruff. Ryder rolled his eyes. Whatever his drummer was about to say was going to be completely unfiltered. His prep school background, coupled with his I don’t give a fuck attitude, made him a loose cannon.
“Shoot.”
“Where the fuck did you get that shirt?” CT asked. His collection of vintage t-shirts was unmatched.
“Layne Staley sent it to me as a thank you.”
Holy.
Shit.
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Layne Staley was a hero to every kid in Seattle with a bad attitude and a problem with authority. For them, Layne was the alpha and the omega. Ryder was twelve when he died. He spent that whole day in his room, listening to Alice in Chains and breaking shit.
“Who are you?” they asked in unison.
“Oh, right.” Pony Tail extended his hand, “Creed Jackson, nice to meet you.” The band took turns introducing themselves before Creed continued. “I got my start working A&R for Columbia and climbed my way up the chain. Recently, I left to start my own company. My daughter is a huge fan and had been bugging me to check you out for the last month. She finally cornered me and forced me to watch a video from Battle of the Bands, and here we are.”
“Guys,” Grant interjected, “Creed thinks it would be a good idea for you to go to LA for a few weeks, get a feel for the Hollywood music scene, see his setup. I can make some calls and maybe book you a few gigs while you’re there.”
“And I’ve got connections at Rolling Rock Magazine. Maybe we can do something with them,” Creed added.
“What’s in it for you?” Ryder asked. The guys went back and forth with the idea of signing to a label. They heard countless horror stories about labels screwing over artists or forcing them to make a certain kind of music. They’d been offered a few contracts in the past, but nothing that was worth selling out for.
“Right now, nothing. I left Columbia because I was sick of ‘the machine.’
It isn’t like it used to be, when we took the time to nurture artists. Nowadays, people care more about how many followers you have over talent and musicianship. Then I see you guys, and while you’re a little rough around the edges, there’s no denying you’ve got something special here. I’d like to be a part of that. I get that I don’t have the power of a major label behind me and I don’t expect you to sign your lives away to me, but come to LA. I think we can help each other do great things.”
Ryder’s head spun as he made his way back out into the bar. It was near closing time and most of the crowd from the show had already dispersed, leaving only a handful of groupies who were waiting to see who Javi and CT would choose, and the barflies who didn’t leave until they were told to go.
“Everything okay?” Jamie asked, wrapping her arms around his neck. He tucked his hands under her knees, lifted her off the barstool, and carried her towards the back of the bar.
“Never better,” he said, nodding to Grant and Creed as they passed. “Is it bad that even though Grant has been fucking amazing, I still want to knock his teeth out for asking you to dinner?�
�
Once locked inside the office Ryder sat Jamie on her feet. “Try irrational and pig headed,” she said, her lips jutting out in annoyance. They were pink and pouty and begging to be kissed.
So he did.
Kissing Jamie was Ryder’s new favorite thing. He devoted hours to exploring her mouth. The added layer of intimacy to their already explosive chemistry ensured they didn’t do much sleeping at night.
“But you love me anyway,” he whispered, walking her backwards towards the old couch.
Jamie still hadn’t returned the sentiment, a fact that only slightly annoyed Ryder. She didn’t express her love like most people, but he felt it every day. He felt it in the way her body gravitated towards him without her brain’s consent. He felt it in her honesty, and in her kiss.
Their tongues danced, slow and lazy. They were in no rush. Jamie’s hands trailed down his ribcage and across his abdomen. Her touch made his fucking heart flutter. He was so pussy whipped, it wasn’t even funny. His boys could wade through the sea of groupies for the rest of forever, but no amount of one-nighters and fuck buddies could replace the feelings he felt when Kitty Cat touched him like that. Lacing his fingers in her hair, Ryder tilted Jamie’s head so their eyes met.
“Why’d you stop?” she panted. Her fingers dug into his back, a not so subtle hint she wanted him.
He groaned against her lips, “Because the things I want to do to you require a bed.” Dave’s office was more of a bend her over the desk and smack her ass kind of fuck. Ryder wanted to take his time and worship her body. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her flesh. He wanted to bury his cock inside her pussy deep enough for his Prince Albert to graze her cervix. He wanted her screaming his name, but first, he needed to tell her his news.
Jamie’s fingers traced one of his nipple piercings through the thin fabric of his tank. Leaning over, she pressed a soft kiss to it before gently tugging at it with her teeth. “You can’t improvise?” she purred.
Lithium Waves: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 16