Hard As Rock (33 page)

“Or maybe you being there will make it twice as good.” He turned to Ryan. “Come on, man, tell your girlfriend not to be a killjoy.”

When I heard him say ‘girlfriend,’ it send a shiver of dread down my spine.

I guess it didn’t have the same effect on Ryan, because he smiled in spite of himself and looked down at me. “Don’t be a killjoy.”

I faltered. “I… I really don’t think…”

Suddenly another car drove into the lot – a black Lincoln town car with darkly tinted windows. A college-age kid in shorts and a baggy shirt stepped out and opened the back door, and Killian emerged in a cloud of pot smoke, a guitar strapped across his body.

“Thanks, mate,” Killian said. “I’ll call you when we’re finished.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Lee,” the kid said, and hopped back in the car.

“Look who’s a big shot with the chauffeur,” Derek shouted.

Killian looked over in surprise and burst into a huge grin. “Derek!”

They gave each other a big hug.

“You look good!” Killian said as he pulled back.

“You look and smell exactly the same,” Derek joked. “What’s with the driver?”

“The authorities don’t take too kindly to my smoking, so God forbid they catch me driving at the same time.”

“Smart,” Ryan nodded.

“Miles insisted,” Killian said.

“Even smarter.”

Killian beamed at me. “Hello, luv! Coming in to start us off right?”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so.”

Killian’s face fell. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You won’t be a distraction – you’ll bring us luck.”

“That’s what I said,” Derek chimed in. “She should totally hang out, right?”

“Of course!”

“Miles doesn’t like me,” I said. “And Riley – ”

“ – can bugger off. I’ll protect you, luv,” Killian said, and hooked his arm through mine, pulling me gently towards the door. As he did, I noticed that the fingers of his free hand were dancing across the guitar strings.

I hadn’t anticipated the kindly pothead doing Derek’s dirty work for him, however unknowingly.

“Fine,” I sighed, giving up the fight. “Whatever.”

The studio was small, with only a handful of recording spaces. Bigger had taken over the largest one, which also had a spacious control room.

We walked in and found Miles and Riley already inside. Miles was shouting at someone over his cell phone; Riley was sitting on a plush couch and drumming her sticks on a coffee table.

When she saw Derek, Riley beamed and stood up. “Holy shit, look who’s back from the dead. What up, asshole.”

Derek gave her a bear hug and swung her around. “What up, bitch.”

“Okay, okay, enough already, people’re gonna think I like you,” she laughed.

Derek put her down, and Riley peered at his face. “You don’t look nearly as shitty as you did on TMZ.”

Derek grinned. “
Thanks.
”

“I’ll fix that. After we finish today, first ten shots’re on me.”

“Riley, I’ve been sober 33 days now.”

“Yeah, I’ll fix that, too.”

“I’m already getting a contact high off of Killian. I’ll probably get drunk just breathing the whiskey fumes off of you.”

“Don’t turn into a pussy on me now,” she said, slugging him in the arm. “Actually, don’t turn into a
bigger
pussy on me now.”

“It’s called being sober, Riley.”

“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.”

“Fuck you! I’m totally punk rock!”

“Not after we went platinum the first time. Now you’re just a sellout.”

“I’ll show you a sellout, you fuckin’ – ” Riley raged as she launched herself at Derek.

“CHILDREN, CHILDREN!” Miles yelled, and the room settled down – but only after Riley got a few licks in.

“We just got off tour. Why are we doing a festival so soon?” Ryan asked.

“Public relations,” Miles said. “Now, next order of business – ”

“Whoa, hold on – that’s not an answer.”

Miles cleared his throat. “We need to reestablish the band’s presence.”

“You mean, you want people to see we haven’t broken up,” Derek said.

“More or less.”

“And that I’ve still ‘got it’ after rehab.”

For the first time
ever
since I’d met him, Miles looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Something like that.”

The room went quiet.

I knew everyone was tensing. The old Derek might have flown off the handle. He didn’t like being told what to do, for one. Add the suggestion that people were questioning his abilities as lead singer, and you had a Molotov cocktail ready to explode.

But the new Derek just shrugged.

“Fair enough,” he said.

There was a collective sigh in the room as the crisis was averted.

“Right,” Miles said. “Now, I was hoping you might have some new material to play when we get there.”

“To show them
we’ve
still got it,” Derek said. “As a band.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Wait – when do we play?” Ryan asked.

“October 3
^rd
,” Miles replied.

“That’s only three weeks away!”

“Then I suggest you get busy.”

After that, we were joined by the producer and the sound engineer. Avi was from New York and Bob was local. They all knew each other from doing the last record together, so there were a lot of hugs with the hello’s, not to mention numerous comments about how good Derek looked after rehab. They were both polite to me, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew all about the romantic drama and were walking on eggshells.

Then the band went into the recording studio. Like their casual rehearsals on the road, Ryan was a stickler for recording everything, just in case a nugget of brilliance emerged.

I stayed in the control room with Avi, Miles, and Bob, and tried to keep out of everyone’s way.

“Well, we could do ‘When It Was Through.’ Or ‘Gold and Diamonds,’” Ryan suggested, referencing two of the songs I had heard them practice on the road. His words piped in through the speakers in the booth, making him sound like the voice of God.

Avi clicked a button on the console and spoke. “What about some of that new stuff you sent me, Ryan? I like that upbeat feel to it. Might be a good direction for the album.”

“I haven’t heard any of that,” Derek said.

“Why not?” Avi asked.

“I was kind of in isolation for the last month,” Derek said, slightly pissy.

“Oh, right… sorry.”

Derek turned to Ryan. “Let me listen to it tonight, then we’ll tackle it tomorrow.”

Ryan nodded. “Okay, sounds good. So… one of the other songs, then?”

“‘When It Was Through.’ Although I’ve been thinking of changing the title.”

“To what?”

Derek looked into the booth, straight at me. “‘It Isn’t Through.’”

A shiver ran down my spine when he said it.

It intensified when Ryan followed his gaze to me.

In that moment, I was convinced Ryan knew.

And I turned away in shame.

Rehearsals dragged on for hours. Because the songs were already fairly well fleshed out, everything turned into a tornado of minutiae: changing this note, tweaking that line. They started laying down preliminary tracks for one song – first Riley on drums, then Ryan on bass, then Killian for rhythm and lead guitar.

Miles had a gigantic vegetable and fruit tray delivered around three, and the band broke for dinner at six. They were back at it by six thirty. An hour later I wandered outside to the alley behind the studio, wishing for the first time ever that I smoked cigarettes just so I could have something to do.

Unfortunately, somebody followed me.

I was watching the sunset when Derek walked out.

“Hey,” he said nonchalantly.

I tensed up. “Hey.”

He saw my reaction and grinned. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Then I guess I did,” I said, trying to be as icy cool as possible – though after I said it, it just sounded stupid.

He laughed and leaned against the wall beside me. “I guess you did.”

We stood there watching the sunset in silence, and every second I felt the tension ratchet up a few more notches. My stomach was uneasy, my heart was beating faster, and worst of all, I could feel myself getting turned on. I could smell him beside me – the musk of his scent mixed with some subtle cologne. It was awakening feelings inside me by the boatload, including guilt over not telling Ryan about last night – and shame that I still wanted Derek.

Finally I couldn’t bear it anymore, so I pushed away from the wall and announced, “I’m going back inside.”

He grabbed my wrist and held me there. “Don’t go.”

His touch was electric. His fingers on my skin sent a heated surge throughout my body.

“No, I really need to – ”

“Kaitlyn,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on mine.

I stopped talking and stared back at him, my breathing shallow, my heart thumping in my chest.

“We both know who you should be going home with tonight,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, pissed at his presumption. “Ryan.”

He smiled and stood up from the wall. “I like it when you play hard to get.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” I said, my mouth dry.

“You did it four years ago, and look where that got us.”

“I wasn’t playing hard to get. I was with somebody…”

“Somebody who was wrong for you then. And you’re with somebody who’s wrong for you now.”

He circled around me as he spoke, and then started to move towards me. I backed up slowly, still hypnotized by his green eyes.

I knew I should run – I knew I should get the hell out of there – but something about the way he looked at me lit up every pleasurable nerve in my body. Kept me there like invisible chains.

“
You’re
wrong for me,” I murmured.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “We both know I’m exactly what you need.”

“I don’t need you at all.”

“No… you just
want
me.”

I felt my back hit the brick wall. Nowhere to go.

He braced his hand on the wall so his arm was right over my shoulder. Leaned in closer, mesmerizing me with his eyes.

“I don’t want you,” I lied.

“Yes you do… I can feel it. I want you, too.”

“You only want the things you can’t have. And when you get them, you throw them away.”

He smiled. “That’s a great line for a song.”

His flippancy broke the spell.

“It’s my
life
we’re talking about, you asshole, not some line in one of your fucking songs.”

I tried to push past him, but he caught my arms and held me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re right.”

I stopped struggling. “Let go of me,” I said halfheartedly.

“Kaitlyn… I love you. I want you. I
need
you. And I’ll never forget that again, I swear.”

I swooned a little, I’ll admit. But I forced myself back to reality.

“I love Ryan now.”

“No, you’re
with
Ryan now. But you love me.”

“No, I don’t – ”

“Yes you do,” he whispered, and leaned in.

I turned my head to the side so he couldn’t kiss me –