Ryan looked at me. “You know, I actually think you’d like Kylie,” she said. “She apologized to me, and she doesn’t hang out with the other models anymore. She’s nice.”
“If you say so,” I said. But I was surprised; I had thought Kylie was as bad as the rest of them. In fact, I thought she’d weaseled her way onto the “White Lace” track rather than Ryan inviting her.
“How are things with Ben?” Ryan asked.
I made a face. “Over.”
Ryan stopped as she was spreading marinara on her pizza. “No,” she said. “Why? I thought you were so happy with him!”
“I mean, I was, for a little bit,” I said. “But then it just got sort of ... blah. We wanted different things.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Ryan didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she asked a question without looking at me: “You don’t think ...Imade things harder for him in any way, do you?”
“What? No.” I shook my head. “How could you have?”
“I know he was pissed in Big Sur. Wilder didn’t let him invite his buddies.”
I sort of laughed, but that was news to me. “I didn’t even know he tried to bring them,” I said. “I mean, I don’t hold that against either of you. You didn’t know his friends. That wouldn’t have been cool.”
She bit her lip. “But all the times you were there for me instead of him, all the weird pressure about keeping things quiet, navigating the press ... that must have been a strain.”
I considered it. “Maybe a little. But there were other things, and the right guy wouldn’t care about that stuff anyway.”
“It’s valid to care, though. That’s a reasonable boundary to have in a normal relationship.” Ryan leaned back against the counter and ran her hands through her hair, clasping them behind her neck. “I don’t wantto hold you back, Mari. That sucks. I don’t want to make your life any harder than I already make it.”
I shook my head. “That’s just what friendship is, Ryan. I know you have my back too.”
“I’ve dragged you into enough crises already.”
She looked into the distance a moment as I watched her, my hand halfway in a bag of mozzarella cheese.
“You’re making me second-guess my plan to make things up to you,” she said with a wry smile on her face, turning back to me at last.
“Why don’t you let me hear it before you change your mind?” I said.
She nodded. “How’d you like to leave UCLA and come on my world tour with me?”
Skip
I remember those few months after the AMAs as a real high point in Ryan’s career. We were all riding the high of her Artist of the Year win and the accolades that came after her speech—shit, I don’t know where she pulled that from. She’s always been bright, don’t get me wrong. But she couldn’t have planned that better if she tried. People were calling her bold, classy. She was speaking truth to power and was an icon for sticking it to Helladonna.
We booked Ryan’s first world tour for the following year, shortly after the awards show—we would head west and continue around the globe: Singapore, Hong Kong, Berlin, Paris, Madrid. The list went on. Not every show sold out—Belgium was less keen on her, for whatever reason—but most of them did.
About 1.4 million people in attendance and a gross over more than $150 mil. The numbers were staggering. I told Ryan as we neared the end of the tour, and she said, “There’s no way you counted that right. Try again.”
And I said, “These are the numbers straight from the finance department, kiddo. Believe it.”
Jasmine
I mean, hell yeah, I went on that world tour. I wasn’t going to pass up on an excuse to visit Seoul and Helsinki in one trip. Plus, work for Ryan’s next album started right away. We’d got into a good rhythm, I could feel it, and I knew that we both wanted to harness the energy that had come off the AMA win like lightning.
It was ... interesting. Ryan didn’t date anyone throughout that whole world tour. She told me, in fact, that she was “seeking herself.”
“The thing with Justin taught me that I need to be careful not to get swept up in a relationship,” she said. “The tour is a good time to work things out with myself.”
And yet, the songs she was producing on the road were so romantic. These lyrics were pouring out of her like water.Someday, will you take me / To that house upon the hill? / Save me and remake me, lover / With flowers on the sill.
AndCome back, baby / Call my name / I die a little / Cold and brittle / Every time you walk away.
