A lot of big names were at that party—Desiree LaBelle, Rodrick Flores, Helladonna. I’d heard of Ryan but hadn’t given her much thought. I mean, I’m a rock guitarist. I don’t know if I’d heard any bluegrass in my life up to that point.
But I remember that I got there and got my beer—I was trying to take it easy, I had a rehearsal the next day, and amps are hell on a hangover—and walked around to find this really pretty girl curled on the sofa talking to one of the models. She had a magazine in one hand and a glass of wine in the other and looked for all the world like she was spending an evening at home. Like she wasn’t even part of the party.
I recognized her hair first. She was wearing this drapey metallic shirt with tight black pants, and I made the connection from a photo I’d seen in one of the tabloids.
I waited until the model went for a refill before making my way over to Ryan and saying, “Any good stories in there?” I don’t think I’d ever seen someone read a magazine at a party.
She looked up at me and shrugged, and said, “It’s just a tourist thing, so no. Sounds like there are some good museums around town, though.”
Ryan flipped the cover closed to show me the title:Las Vegas Life. It had this couple who was dressed to the hilt, reacting with shocked, gleeful faces at the results of a craps table.
“This could be us,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
I laughed. “Yeah? You like craps?”
“No.” She laughed too. “I’ve never gambled in my life. I’m completely out of place here.”
It seemed like a true statement on more than one level. But ... it was kind of cute. “I mean, if there’s anywhere you should gamble, it’s here,” I said.
“I know, I know.” She made a face. “My band has already made the rounds at the casinos.”
“Your band—you’re Ryan Holding, right? I’m Nick Hoffmann of Socket Plug.” I realized I still hadn’t introduced myself, and I sort of felt like an ass. I didn’t want her to think I expected her to know everyone on sight.
But she smirked and said, “I know. You guys just headlined Coachella, didn’t you? That’s pretty epic.”
I was impressed and, again, felt kind of guilty that I didn’t know anything about her genre. I said that we did, and asked, “You keep up with a lot of rock news over in bluegrass world?”
“I don’t live under a rock,” she said. “Plus, I think Kylie’s friend Savannah has a huge crush on you; she goes on about Socket Plug all the time. I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“Oh, I see,” I told her, acting like I was super interested in the news. “Tell me more about this Savannah girl.”
Ryan leaned back on the sofa and clasped her hands together over her knee like she was giving an interview. “Well, she’s older than me. She models for Versace. She can do that thing where she ties a cherry stem with her tongue.”
I smirked. “But I bet she doesn’t know where all the best museums in Vegas are.”
Ryan shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on it. And she’s missing out—there’s one that’s completely devoted to bobbleheads.”
“No way.” I grinned. “Like baseball-player bobbleheads?”
“Baseball players, politicians, Mickey Mouse ... you name it.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” I said.
“Believe it,” she said. “You want me to point it out to you?”
She stood with her glass of wine, and I realized she meant I should come with her. It was the most interesting conversation I’d had at a party in a while—most parties in those days didn’t involve conversation at all—so I was happy to follow. Instead of leading me out to the balcony like I thought she would, we wove through the crowd and out of the suite entirely.
I thought I understood then—I thought she was leading me back to her room, and that did make me feel both thrilled and nervous. Celebrity that I am, I’ve always been more awkward than my bandmates about that side of the rock star lifestyle.
But no, Ryan surprised me again. She pushed through a door that almost certainly should have been locked and led me to the roof of the building, complete with an empty bar and deserted patio. We were partying on a Monday night, did I mention? Weekends and weekdays don’t exist in jobs like ours.
It was ... breathtaking. Big carpet of neon spreading out before us, and then this blank, dark sea beyond that where the desert stretched into nothingness. It gave me this crazy feeling in my chest. Ryan went right up to the edge and looked out over the railing with the wind whipping all her hair around her face.
She set her wine down and pointed north. “You see the Eiffel Tower over there?” she said. I did. “Okay, follow the road beyond that and look at that tiny red light next to the tall building there, with all the lights off. See that?”
“I think I do,” I said. I didn’t.
“That’s the bobblehead museum.”
