Page 73 of Resonance
“Same answer: more or less. Probably got fired from Marty Calloway’s tour, but he won’t admit it. Says he quit.”
Ryder sipped his beer, then set it on the table and gazed out the window where the lights on the interstate blipped by at staccato pace. “It’s hard for me to think of him as anything but a kid, still. My picture of him got cut off when he was what, thirteen?” His weak smile was heavy with the context he was trying to skirt around.
“Thereabouts. Acts about the same, though. Rowdy, always into something. Doing stupid shit.”
“Sounds familiar.”
I scoffed. “I wasn’t rowdy or into stuff. That was you.”
“Whose idea was it to break into the pool that time in Texas?”
I started to grin and curtailed it, something about Ryder’s expression striking me as a little too much of the past trying to wander over into present. I thumbed toward the bunks. “I’m gonna cut some z’s.”
“You can take the bedroom if you want. I don’t mind those bunks.”
“Nah, suits me fine.”
* * *
There wasa dark comfort to be found in returning to something you knew, even if it’d broken you. That despite the heartache it’d caused, was at least familiar.
Little Rock was madness, our loudest show yet. Unlike some of the more intimate venues Ryder’s promoter had booked for us, this was a step up. Not the arenas we’d done in our past, or that Ryder usually did solo, but a concert hall that seated a couple thousand. And it was packed to the rafters.
I left the stage that night with my skin buzzing, the back of my neck hot, and my entire body drenched. And I couldn’t deny I felt that old magic creep in, the high of being onstage in front of a live audience, the feedback loop of their energy colliding with ours. The first couple of shows we’d played had been sedate compared to this one. It was damn near intoxicating, and I could tell Ryder was lit with the same crazy cocktail of performance and reception when he knocked his fist soundly against my shoulder as we headed toward the greenroom.
The difference now was that once I got offstage, my thoughts drifted back to Nashville. My shops, and Jezebel. And Owen. He’d been more distant lately, and I couldn’t help but think back to that last conversation we’d had. Maybe once I was gone he’d started thinking he could do better than an old has-been prone to foot cramps. I envisioned him taking Marco up on that date he’d skipped out on and when it started to curdle my stomach, forced the images away. That wasn’t me. I’d razed a career to the ground because of a lover once. I wasn’t going to do it again.
We had an interview ahead of us, and a meet and greet with a few fans who’d won tickets from a contest, and for once I wasn’t itching to get back on the bus and pass out.
When one of the roadies handed me a glass of whiskey, I took it and upended it, then passed it back for another round while Ryder looked on with a grin.
“I think I jumped the gun on saying ‘Welcome back’ after that first show.”
I flipped him off.
We finished the social niceties and finally returned to the bus near midnight. I fired off a text to Owen and nodded absently when Ryder pulled some glasses from one of the kitchenette cabinets and aimed a bottle of whiskey in my direction.
Owen answered me back as I dropped down onto the couch and kicked my boots off.
Owen:At Ru’s show. How was it tonight?
Dan:Good. Good crowd.
I hesitated, then pecked out:I think of you a lot.
Owen’s pause was equally long, and then he replied:I think of you a lot too.
Damn our mutual cautiousness. Just that simple exchange ran through my bloodstream like sugar and made my lips twitch at the corners. Ryder passed me a glass of whiskey and carried his own with him to the bench across from me. He slumped down in the seat, kicking his feet up next to me.
“What’re you grinnin’ at.”
I fired off one last text to Owen, telling him I’d call tomorrow, and tucked my phone away before considering Ryder’s question with a shrug. I hadn’t mentioned Owen much, wasn’t sure there was a place for that kind of conversation between us. Sure didn’t feel like it.
“You said one of your employees was taking care of your house, yeah?” He tapped the rim of his glass thoughtfully. “The blond one I met when I was in?”
“Owen, yeah.”
Ryder didn’t respond immediately, but something was on his mind, sure as the day was long. He sipped his whiskey, and we both gave our driver the thumbs-up when he turned in his seat and asked if we were ready to go.