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“I meant a
good
band, asshole!” she raged. “Black Sabbath
sucked
when they kicked out Ozzy! Motley Crue
sucked
when they kicked out Vince Neil!”
“Sabbath didn’t suck with Dio,” Ryan chided her.
“They weren’t nearly as
good.
”
“What about Pink Floyd?”
“Well…” she grumbled, then shouted, “Van Halen!”
“I know you like David Lee Roth, but you like Sammy Hagar’s stuff, too.”
“Bullshit, I don’t like either of them!” she shouted, then struggled to think. “Uh – Sublime!”
“Bradley O.D.’d, Riley. That doesn’t count.”
“It counts!”
“Why are you so concerned about Derek quitting? You don’t even like him,” I butted in.
She turned on me with a rage I might have expected from a cheated-upon spouse. “YOU don’t get to talk, you stupid BITCH!”
“RILEY!” Ryan shouted.
Her voice turned into a pitiful wail. “But she’s gonna break up the band!”
“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” he snapped. “
I’m
the one who got involved with her.”
“Yeah, well, I hate
you,
too,” she sniffled.
Ryan sighed. “It’s going to be fine. Whatever Derek decides, we have enough money to last us for decades, even if we never make another penny.”
“I don’t care about the money!”
“I know – I know. But no matter what, I’ll keep playing music,
you’ll
keep playing music… we’ll play music together. It’ll be fine.”
“I just want it to be like it’s always been,” she mumbled.
“It might be. Don’t give up hope yet.”
“I’d have a whole lot more hope if you kicked Yoko out.”
“I don’t like being called ‘Yoko,’” I objected. “I
barely
tolerated Blondie – ”
“Tough shit, YOKO,” she snapped, then turned back to Ryan and pleaded, “Can’t you at least, like, ship her out of
town
for awhile?”
“Not going to happen. If Derek’s going to quit, let him quit. I’m not going to skulk around and give him all the power.”
“But – ”
“She’s
staying,
Riley. And don’t call her Yoko, either.”
Riley grumbled and groused, but didn’t say anything more about it for the next couple of hours.
Except when she called me ‘Yoko’ under her breath.
74
The doorbell rang while Riley was still around. She was acting sulky and sullen and tossing gravel in the goldfish pond, trying to hit the fish.
“Leave the fish alone,” Ryan called out as he went in the house to answer the door.
“They’re fuckin’ fish, they need some excitement,” she yelled back.
I followed Ryan into the house.
“What’s up?” Ryan asked.
“Nothing. I just don’t want to be called ‘Yoko’ anymore.”
“She quit doing that.”
“Yeah, except when she mouths it silently when your back is turned.”
He grimaced. “Ah, Riley.”
As we got closer to the door, my heart sped up. I knew it couldn’t be Derek – the flight from LA to Atlanta was probably five hours, and then there was all the time at the airport beforehand, not to mention the hour-plus drive to Athens. And he’d only been released from rehab about four hours ago, according to the text from Miles.
But I was nervous just the same until Ryan opened the door.
There stood a certain short, long-haired guitarist dressed all in black – and stinking of weed. I have to say, though, it was one of the few times I had ever seen him without a joint in his lips or a guitar in his arms.
“Hello, there,” he said to Ryan, and then he saw me. There was a second where his eyes widened, and then he sighed like he was resigning himself to his fate. “Hello, Kaitlyn.”
“Hi, Killian,” I said, noticing the subtle shift in his tone of voice.
“Come on in,” Ryan said. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” Killian said as he walked into the foyer and turned around to face us.
“Riley’s out back. You want anything to eat or drink?”
“No, I’m good,” Killian said, but he didn’t move from the foyer. He just stood there nervously, arms dangling at his side, fingers twitching like a gunfighter about to draw his six-shooters.
Nobody said anything for about ten seconds.
“You want a guitar?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, please,” Killian said, exhaling in relief.
We all walked back to the studio.
“How was your trip?” Ryan asked.
“Not as interesting as yours, I’d wager,” Killian said, glancing over at me.
Ryan shot him a look. “Are you going to give me crap, too?”
“No, no,” Killian said mildly… but his shoulders were sagging under the weight of some heavy interior burden.
“What’s up, then?”
“Well… I don’t know quite how I should say this…”
“Just say it.”
“…should I be looking for a new gig?”
Ryan chuckled. “No.”
Killian brightened. “So you’ve talked to Derek, then?”
“No.”
His mood just as quickly dimmed. “Oh.”
“Look, Killian – what happened between me and Kaitlyn is – ”
“No, no, I don’t need to know any details,” he said quickly.
“I wasn’t going to give you any. I was going to say, it’s not going to break up the band.”
“Oh? How’s that, exactly?”
