“Guess who else she is?” Riley piped up, but right then Derek picked up a Big Mac and smushed it into her face.
“The hair, dude, watch the hair!” she shouted as she and Derek got into a fist fight using hamburgers as boxing gloves.
“Who else are you?” Mike asked.
“Nobody special,” I lied.
I figured he’d hear about it later – but no need to hear it from me.
Killian was over in the corner staring intently into a punch bowl. He seemed very stoned and very interested in whatever was inside.
“They get the proportion right?” Ryan asked.
“It would appear so,” Killian answered.
I walked over a few feet and saw he was looking at a massive pile of red and orange M&M’s.
I groaned.
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“I don’t know, what do you think it is?”
“It looks like a ton of red and orange M&M’s.”
“Then yes, that’s exactly what you think it is.”
I shook my head and gave him a sideways glance.
He laughed. “What’s that look for?”
“Do you really need to power trip so badly you made some poor guy sort M&M’s for an hour?”
Ryan smiled. “We got the idea from Van Halen. They used to write into all of their contracts that there had to be a bowl of green M&M’s in the dressing room.”
“Great.”
“But you don’t understand why it’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.”
“What you don’t know is that the typical venue contract for an act as big as Van Halen runs 60 or 70 pages, maybe more. And in that contract was specified exactly how their equipment was supposed to be set up. All the rigging, all the lights, all the pyrotechnics. And inserted right in the middle of one of the most obscure passages was a sentence that said the venue had to supply a bowl of all-green M&M’s. When Van Halen got there to perform and the venue had set up the stage, the band would go and check the M&M’s. If they weren’t there – or if there were all sorts of colors, and not just green – they’d know that somebody hadn’t read the contract carefully or didn’t give a damn. What’s more, they probably hadn’t set up all the equipment to specification, so the band’s team would have to go through all the wiring and cabling to make sure nobody messed up. Otherwise they might get electrocuted or burn the place down. On the other hand, if there were green M&M’s, the band was reasonably sure that somebody had read the contract and done their jobs, and they didn’t need to go through everything with a fine-tooth comb.”
“Oh,” I said, chastened. “So it was like a warning sign.”
“Exactly.”
“So yours do the same thing?”
“Yes. Miles and Killian write 10 very obscure things into each contract. If they’re all followed to the letter, then we know we don’t have to worry. The punchbowl full of one-third red M&M’s, two thirds orange is just one of them.”
“Are the Big Macs part of that?”
“No – Riley just likes Big Macs, that’s all.”
10
Sound check went fine. It was boring; I mostly just watched as Riley tested her drums, Killian and Ryan messed with their guitars, and Derek kept saying, “One two three, testing, one two three” into the microphone and singing bits of songs. Down on the floor, I could hear Miles screaming at some poor unfortunate soul.
Two hours before showtime, five guys who looked like Bigger’s poor relations walked up on stage. They were all dressed in black t-shirts and fashionably ripped blue jeans, with tons of tattoos and piercings. They approached Derek like Roman Catholics from a small village going to meet the Pope: with fear and wonderment. Their eyes were wide, and they looked around the arena like it was the Sistine Chapel.
As soon as Derek saw them, he yelled out, “Heyyyyy!” and went over and gave the apparent leader a big hug and slapped him on the back in a bro-like way.
“Oh, man, we just wanted to say thank you for this opportunity, man,” the huggee enthused.
“Hey – you deserve it,” Derek said. “You guys are awesome.”
“We can’t thank you enough,” another guy piped up.
“Well, you know – pay it forward, right? Besides, it’s the whole band’s decision. Hey, Ryan – Killian – come here.”
Killian and Ryan wandered over and chatted, and the five newcomers gushed some more. Then Killian and Ryan politely bowed out. Riley ignored them completely as she tested out her drums.
As Derek continued to chat with the guys, I thought sourly about how he much must be enjoying his power trip. Big man, surrounded by sycophants.
Ryan noticed me watching them and came over. “Having fun yet?”
“Loads. Who are they?”
“That’s the opening act.”
“Why are they acting all starstruck?”
“You mean, besides the fact that we’re huge stars?”
I grimaced. “Watch it, Derek’s rubbing off on you.”
“Oh! You wound me, madam,” Ryan grinned.
“Seriously, what’s up with them?”
“Derek’s big thing is that every show we do, we have a local band open for us. Most tours, they’ll have an opening act that’s pretty big already, usually on their way up – or on their way down and trying to make a comeback. Derek insists that it has to be somebody small and local, to give them some exposure. We solicit submissions from local bands on Facebook, and we go through and choose one.”
“Oh.” Now I felt bad. “That’s nice of you guys.”
“Eh… you know. We all support it, but Derek was the big instigator. He feels like it’s our obligation to lend a hand to people who are talented, who could use the break.”
I watched Derek fist-bump and bear-hug the other band’s members, and decided maybe I should stop being a hater and start being a journalist.
11
As the opening act set up, we retired back to the dressing room to find Ryan’s family waiting for us.
Holy CRAP I felt old. Mara must have been 17 now, and Casey was about 13.
And they were still terribly in love with Derek.
They both screamed when he entered the room. He in turn yelled out, “Oh my gosh, it’s my girlfriends!”
He swept them up, one in each arm, and twirled them around like helicopter blades as they shrieked happily.
“Thanks for coming,” Ryan beamed at his parents as he bent down and kissed his mom on the cheek.
Mrs. Miller still looked pretty as always, and Mr. Miller looked tanned and handsome in his polo shirt and slacks.
“Thanks for the vacation, son,” Mr. Miller said happily, then leaned in and whispered, “You would not believe the mini-bar in the hotel.”
“Good – get anything you want. It’s all on me.”
Mrs. Miller fussed with Ryan’s hair. “Are you seriously going out in front of a thousand people with your hair like that?”
I wanted to tell her, More like TWENTY thousand.
“MOM,” he said, backing away out of her reach. Then he gestured at me. “You remember Kaitlyn, right? She had dinner with us one time while I was still in high school.”
Mrs. Miller looked over at me, and a light seemed to go off behind her smile. “Yes, I do. So nice to see you – how are you, dear?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
She looked between me and Ryan. “Are you two…?”
Ryan laughed. “Kaitlyn’s here for Rolling Stone, Mom. She’s writing an article on the band.”
“Ohhh, how nice.”
I could tell she didn’t really have a clue how big that was – but then, I don’t think she quite knew how big a deal her son was, either.
But she definitely remembered something else from that evening long ago.
“That… friend of yours isn’t here, is she?” she asked me, and looked worriedly at Ryan.
I ha
d to stifle a laugh.
I’m sure Ryan had encountered a thousand Shannas by now. I wasn’t sure how many he’d slept with, but…
“No, she’s in New York.”
“Oh. Good,” Mrs. Miller said, noticeably relieved.
“Hey, how is Shanna?” Ryan asked. “Do you guys still talk?”
Suddenly Derek swept into the group with the two girls. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t think they could get any taller – hey, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”
They greeted him happily, and proceeded to chat as Casey tried to keep Derek’s attention and tell him all about Disneyland. Mara was playing it much cooler… but it was clear she was just as infatuated. She had really blossomed, and was all made up for the show. As soon as she saw me, her face darkened, and I remembered the icy looks she had shot me years ago.
Apparently she remembered that evening, too.
I guess I was still competition.
She turned away from me and back to Derek. “Can I take a picture with you? Pleeeaaaase?”
“Of course – gonna send it to your friends and make them jealous?” Derek teased.
While Derek and Mara took a selfie, Ryan pointed out Killian and Riley to his parents. Killian walked on over, though Riley just waved from across the room. Mr. and Mrs. Miller were both polite in return, but it was clear that they were uncomfortable with Ryan’s bandmates – especially as Mrs. Miller kept backing away from Killian’s cloud of pot-stank with a wrinkled nose.
I wound up near Riley as the Miller family continued to chat and Derek clowned around with the two girls. I expected some snarky humor from her, but instead Riley just watched the scene with a wistful look on her face.
“You didn’t want to say hello?” I asked.
She looked at me like she had awoken from a daydream. “What? Oh, they know me from Athens. They don’t really like me too much.”
“Oh.”
She kept watching the scene play out, her expression blank.
Something odd was going on.
Time to play journalist. That’s what I was here to do, after all.
“Did something happen?” I asked. “Some kind of fight?”
Again, she seemed distracted. “What? Oh, you know… just that we kind of showed up and took over Ryan’s life. And, I mean… look at me, and look at them.” She said it without rancor – just matter-of-factly. “But it’s cool. They’re good people. They really love Ryan.”
The comment, coming from her, surprised me. Especially the offhand way she said it.
She watched them for a long moment, and said one more thing:
“It’d be cool if somebody came across the country to watch me like that.”
And then she walked away.
12
Showtime neared, and the anticipation in the air almost crackled. I was even becoming nervous.
Killian wasn’t. He just smoked a doobie over in the corner and plinked along on his guitar as the opening band rocked out on the stage, the sound of their vocals and guitars echoing through the concrete hallways.
Derek wasn’t nervous, either. He joked with various crew members, and chatted with all the famous people who had dropped by before the show. Current stars, rock luminaries from decades past, actors – the Beautiful People. And all of them seem entranced with him.
But Ryan and Riley were off in their own private worlds. Ryan was pacing back and forth, breathing in and out methodically, a sick look on his face. Riley was sitting on a swiveling stool by herself, her eyes closed, drumsticks clasped loosely in her fingers, pounding out beats on an imaginary drum set.
“Hey,” I said to Derek as he wrapped up talking to a famous actor who had played a musician in a recent biopic.
“What’s up? Getting good stuff for the article?”
“Uhhh… I guess. Where should I go while you guys are onstage?”
“Oh, you’ll be going onstage, too.”
My face went slack with shock. “…what?”
“Yeah, I’m going to get you out there. I thought I’d introduce you as the inspiration for most of my songs, and maybe have you sit out there with me. I could sing them to you – ”
“No,” I said, waving my hands. “No, no, NO, BAD idea – ”
And then I saw that he was suppressing a smile.
I stopped moving my arms. “…you’re kidding, aren’t you.”
He burst into a full-fledged grin. “You just had that same look you gave me when I said I came over to sleep with Shanna. You remember that?”
I glared at him.
Yes, I remembered that.
“Very funny,” I snapped.
“Aaaah, don’t get your panties in a wad,” he teased. “Ancient history.”
Actually, not so ancient – and maybe not even history.
“You’ll be on the side of the stage so you can see everything, but the audience won’t be able to see you,” he continued. “You’ll have to share with Mara and Casey – we’re letting them stay, too, but we’re putting Ryan’s parents up in a box seat. I think they’d get a little bored otherwise.”
“They’re going to let a thirteen year-old just hang out backstage at a rock concert?” I asked, surprised.
“It was a giant negotiation,” Ryan said, walking over to join us. “Mara did not want them around because it would look like she was a little kid, and Casey pitched a fit about not being able to go, too. So now we’re having a security guy babysit them, and I had to promise and check up on them between numbers.”
“You doin’ alright there, man?” Derek grinned. “You’re lookin’ a little green.”
“Screw you,” Ryan said good-naturedly.
“What?” I asked, not sure what the joke was.
“I get serious stage fright before every show. And he – ” Ryan pointed at Derek. “ – loves to rub it in. Does it every time.”
“It’ll be fine… twenty thousand people, tops… piece ‘a cake,” Derek said with faux sincerity.
“If I vomit, I’ll make sure to do it on you.”
“Puke on Riley, not me. I think she’s into that sort of shit.”
“Fuck all y’all,” Riley shouted from her seat, where she was still seated with her eyes closed as she continued to play her invisible drums.
Miles suddenly appeared at the mouth of the room. “It’s show time, ladies and gents!”
Derek looked at me and flashed me that heart-stopping grin. “You ready?”
“…I guess.”
He jerked his head. “Let’s go, then.”
13
The first thing I heard was the roaring. It was like the pounding of the ocean surf, but made out of human voices.
As we cleared the concrete tunnel, I could see the spotlights flashing out in the darkness – just quick glimpses of them, interrupted by the framework of the stage.
Ryan’s family was waiting by the exit. Casey looked like she was about to pee, she was so excited. Mara was trying to be cool, but she was hopping up and down just a centimeter, like she wanted to jump but was holding it back. Ryan hugged his parents – said “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine” to his very worried mother – and then his parents departed, and a bald security guard fell in lockstep with us as Mara and Casey joined the group.
We made it to the wings of the stage when a group of crew guys handed Ryan his bass and plugged some kind of a transmitter into Killian’s guitar.
Suddenly a voice reverberated over the speakers.
“AND NOW… GIVE IT UP… FOR… BIGGEEEEEERRRR!”
The pounding surf of voices became a massive roar, punctuated with screams.
Casey, Mara, the guard, and I all halted at the edge of the giant proscenium that divided the sides from the main stage. The rest of the band kept on going. Killian walked out first and immediately became a black silhouette against the spotlights. His fingers were still moving over the strings – but now they were transmuted into sound: a playful, rocked-out version of the 20th Century Fox fanfare. If you’ve ever watch
ed Star Wars, it’s the music that plays just before the actual movie music kicks in. He was ripping across the strings, distorting the sound into ugly noise to mimic drums: ba-da-da-DUNH-DUNH. ba-da-da-DUNH-DUNH. Du-du-du-du-du-DUNH-DUNH. And then he let loose in a Jimmy Henrix-inspired wail that was astonishingly like the trumpets in the fanfare.
It was pretty awesome.
The crowd certainly thought so, because the roaring notched up a good ten decibels.
Riley was right behind him. Under the glare of the lights, her pale skin and mostly-white wifebeater turned her into a glowing angel – albeit a very strange one, with that two-foot tall mohawk.
She immediately flipped off the crowd with both hands, and they thundered their approval.
As she got behind her drums on a riser, Ryan and Mike the backup guitar player strolled out and waved. The female voices got a little bit louder, a little bit more enthusiastic.
Just before he walked on, Derek turned, looked back at me, lowered his sunglasses – and gave me a wink.
My heart skipped a beat.
And then he stepped out into the maelstrom.
The whole place went absolutely nuts.
Thousands and thousands of women shrieked so loudly that the bass roar of the crowd almost disappeared beneath the high-pitched screaming. It was like those old black-and-white clips of teenage girls losing their minds over Elvis or the Beatles – except it was right in front of me, in color, in real life. The spotlights panned over the pit in front of the stage, and it was eighty percent women – teenagers and twenty-somethings, a sea of slender arms and hands reaching up in a wave towards Derek, hands and fingers clutching the air for him, seeking to pull him under if they could.
Riley suddenly counted off the beat, her voice the only decipherable one above the caterwauling as she clacked the sticks over her head.
“One – Two – THREE – FOUR!”
The drums and bass and Killian’s electric guitar all crashed into being at once, a tidal wave of sound as they launched into “Forgot You Were Gone,” their most recent number-one single, and probably the hardest rocking song amongst their hits. Derek’s voice growled after the intro, and he hurtled towards the crowd, stopping just short of the edge as hundreds of female arms reached over the lip of the stage, trying to touch him, to possess him.
Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction #2) Page 5
