“Why did you start writing music?” I asked.
She ran her finger along the edge of the banjo drum. “I don’t know. Because I felt like I had to. Because I got these ideas, and they needed somewhere to go.”
“What’s changed?” I asked.
“At first—” She shook her head. “At first I felt like a water tower. Like all these songs were building above my head, and I had to channel them out or I would burst. Then I felt more like a well, like one of those old ones with the pump, you know? My grandpa used to have one of those on his farm in Kentucky, I remember from when I was little. It took more work to get them out, but there was still plenty down there, and I could pull them up whenever I needed to.”
The three of us were silent for a moment.
It was Wilder who spoke first. “And now?” he said.
“And now I feel like an empty barrel,” Ryan said quietly. “There’s nothing in there. And I don’t know what to do.”
I sat back in my chair and allowed her a minute or two. Then I said, as gently as I could, “You’ve been through a lot of stress, Ryan. It’s just writer’s block, okay? You’re more than your music. You need to give it time.”
Skip
Jas talked to me after that first studio session. I called Ryan into my office and I said, “You’re fired.”
And she said, “What the hell?”
I said, “I’m temporarily firing you. Take a few months. Let that feeling come back to you.”
She looked at me with these dead sort of eyes. It’s hard on an artist—musicians, especially. You know, you put your whole identity into your work, and then when your brain won’t cooperate, you feel broken. I would’ve given my other artists some tough love, but the kid had been through enough.
“What if it doesn’t come back?” she asked.
All right, so I couldn’t resist razzing her a little bit. I said, “Then you already have enough money to retire decades early. Who cares? You should be doing it because you love it.”
“Are you saying I’m already washed up?” She was glaring at me, but I could see a little bit of her old self coming back.
“If I was, I’d be a hypocrite, wouldn’t I?” I said. “The washed-up old producer that I am.”
Ryan rolled her eyes. “I can’t make any promises.”
“You don’t need to,” I said. “Your head’s big enough to be a water tower again. Just gotta let it refill.”
Finally, she cracked a grin.
Kylie
I was glad to be able to spend more time with Ryan after the trial. She seemed really down, that summer of 2016. I’d take her shopping, drive her up to my family’s lake house in Tahoe, go to the pier with her. I picked up a lot of the slack because Mari was working overtime to finish classes and manage press coverage from the end of the trial. She and I got closer, too, I’d like to think. We don’t talk so much anymore, but back then, it was Ryan who held us all together.
Mari was always like, “Keep the magazines away from her, keep her off her phone.” And I did my best. But it was everywhere, you know? Even in the rustic little shops up at the lake, there would be tabloids with pictures of her. And it seemed to send her into a funk every time.
There was one particular criticism that stuck with her around that time. It was something I think Tyler Michaels first said, and then a bunch of other publications ran with it—something about Ryan being a spider. Like she was just trying to trap you in her web. Helladonna was dating Tyler by then, and she released some song about the “Itsy Bitchy Spider” that had everyone talking. It was on the radio, in the mall, in commercials—like you could not get away from this snarky, catchy-ass song. I’m sorry, but yeah, it was catchy. That was part of the problem. I’d get it in my head, and then I’d have to stop myself from humming it around Ryan.
There was one day when we were up at the lake sunbathing on my parents’ dock, and everything was quiet and beautiful. I was like, finally. Mari would be proud of me.
Then this stupid boat zooms by blasting “Itsy Bitchy Spider” at full volume.
Ryan sat up in one motion and ripped her sunglasses off and literally threw these Versace frames into Lake Tahoe.
“Fuck!” she yelled.
I had to start laughing. I’d never heard her swear like that.
I was like, “Yes, let it out, girl!”
