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“I stand by my statement.” She glanced at the room and the woman in it. The singing had stopped and Oakley was directing the kids on something or other. “If you want to get along with Oakley, lay off that kind of thing. She has a lot on her plate and likes to keep things professional. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’s looking for a walk on the wild side, anyway.”
“Who says I’m the wild side?”
Tessa gave him a withering look.
“Fine. If she wants to keep things professional, I can do that.”
Mostly. Maybe.
Tessa’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she shook her head. “Come on, let’s go in and do introductions so y’all can start planning.”
When they walked in, the kids were all chatting at once. But one voice rang above the others.
“I swear to God, if she mentions another One Direction song, I’m going to puke,” said a young girl with short-cropped black hair and a Runaways T-shirt. “That’s all we did last week. Their songs make me want to punch someone in the face.”
Pike had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
“Reagan,” Oakley said sharply. “That isn’t how we share our opinions here. Be respectful.”
Min
i Pat Benatar turned her green-eyed gaze to Oakley. A little bit of a staring contest ensued, then Reagan finally gave in and turned to the girl she’d been addressing. She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry. One Direction songs make my stomach hurt, and I would really like it if we could do something different.”
She punctuated the sentence with a toothy, plastic smile.
Pike instantly liked her.
The boy-band fan clearly did not, though. The blond girl crossed her arms and sneered. “At least it’s not as bad as your weird music. No one’s even heard of the stuff you like.”
“Okay, let’s get back on task,” Oakley said, a tired edge to her voice.
Tessa stepped forward out of the shadowed back of the room. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. But I wanted to introduce you to someone.”
Oakley turned and her gaze landed heavy on Pike. For a split second he caught her raw reaction—lips parting, gaze flicking down the length of his body as if she couldn’t resist a full look. But as quickly as it was there, she reeled it in. Wariness descended over her face, but like the younger girl, she managed to fake a smile, clearly more for the kids’ behalf than his. All the other heads in the room turned toward him, too—most of the kids staring at him with open curiosity. Tension coiled in his neck and shoulders.
“Everyone, this is Mr. Ryland. He’s going to be taking Mr. Gull’s place and has kindly offered to help with your song project.”
“You’re in a band,” Reagan blurted out. Not a question.
The outburst startled Pike out of his stiff posture. Oakley turned to correct Reagan. But he interrupted her before she could. “How’d you guess? You know Darkfall?”
Reagan crossed her arms, her eyes not meeting his but looking at the rest of him instead. “No. But your ears and eyebrow are pierced and you have lots of tattoos. Some have music notes and drumsticks in them. It’d be pretty dumb to get those if you weren’t in a band.”
His lips tilted up. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”
“My mom says all tattoos are pretty dumb, though.”
“Reagan,” Oakley corrected, pressing fingers to the spot between her eyes.
He laughed. He liked that the kid didn’t mince words. Plus, the fact that this girl had plucked out details from his intricate full sleeve tattoos from across the room was pretty impressive. “I guess your mom would think I was a big dummy then.”
Some of the kids in the group giggled and others started to announce who had tattoos in their family.
Oakley shook her head at the quickly deteriorating order in the group and then clapped her hands. “All right, all right. Let’s get quiet so Mrs. Vandergriff can talk.”
The kids settled after a few more seconds, and Tessa went on to explain what Pike had proposed—making a real record. Controlled chaos broke out again after that, the kids cheering, tossing out suggestions on songs, and planning their mansions in the Hollywood Hills for after they became famous. The only ones who weren’t bubbling with excitement were Oakley and Reagan. Reagan was sitting quietly, a thoughtful, intense expression on her face. And Oakley looked as if she’d just been told she had a meeting with an executioner.
“Ms. Easton, can we steal you for a minute so we can work out some details?” Tessa asked.
