Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“That’s the only thing that matters,” Lyric says, and I can hear how genuine he is come through in his soft voice.
“Anyway, Maggie. She was visiting after a deployment. She’d lost someone close to her over there, so she was a mess, and we got to talking about our lives. She dumped her depressing shit on me. I told her she made me feel like a spoiled diva, then she said, ‘You’re still just Ryder to me.’ That was pretty much all it took.”
“Ooh, I’m putting this sex weapon in my back pocket for later.”
“Sex weapon?”
“Yeah, it’s like a magic word. Instead of Abracadabra, it’s Just Ryder.”
I wish I could say it doesn’t do anything for me when he’s mocking me, but I’d be lying.
Lyric chuckles. “I still can’t believe you got freaky on a playground. You’re lucky you weren’t arrested or that someone didn’t see it and sell photos to the tabloids.”
I lean back on the soft cushions and rest my head against the backrest of the couch. “Although, if that’d happened, it might’ve dispelled some rumors about my sexuality.”
“Pretty sure it only would’ve welcomed more. Ryder Kennedy, Sex Addict. I can see the headlines now.”
The buzzer for the front gate sounds, so I stand. “I would say you’re wrong, but that’s probably an accurate depiction of what it would’ve been like had we been caught.”
I collect the food from the front door and tip the guy generously. I’ve found most places are cool with the celebrity thing and don’t run their mouths if they’re paid well and know we’ll be repeat customers.
When I get back to the formal living room, Lyric’s sitting there with a contemplative stare.
“What’s up?” I lay the Styrofoam boxes from my favorite café out on the coffee table with two plates and sit on the floor.
Lyric stays on the couch still looking spaced-out.
“Lyric?”
He snaps out of whatever it is and sinks to the floor next to me. “We should play a game while we eat.”
“A game?”
“Yeah. All you have to do is say myth or fact to the following tabloid stories.”
“Here we go.”
We get comfortable, and I eat while Lyric starts with the questions.
He takes a bite of his sandwich and talks around the mouthful. “I know we’ve already covered this, but I really need to be sure. Did you actually die?”
I laugh hard. “I did. In a plane crash a few years ago. I’m either a ghost or your imagination. Pick one.”
“Has to be my hot as fuck imagination because no way are ghosts as attractive as you are.”
“Thank … you?”
Lyric ignores me and is ready for his next assault. “Umm, I already know the Kaylee rumor about her being a test tube baby isn’t true. Soooo, ooh, hashtag Ryley4Ever. Did you and Harley ever hook up?”
“I almost don’t want to deny this because the fandom behind that rumor is awesome. But it’s a myth. Harley and I are great friends and that’s all.”
I don’t miss the way Lyric lingers for more information about Harley and the rumors of his sexuality, and while it’s pretty well-known in Hollywood circles, it’s not my place to say more than that.
“Does your rider really have a sacrificial chicken slaughter before a performance?”
“Nah, that was Denver’s.”
He eyes me.
“I’m fucking with you. Total myth. Eleven’s rider was tame. It had to be because our label didn’t want us becoming bratty divas. Those rumors get spread around like crazy and cost gigs and appearances.”
“Ugh. The more I hear about labels, the more I wonder if I should go indie.”
“That’s a legitimate conversation to have if you want to have it.”
Lyric takes another bite. “Maybe another time. This is fun. Hmm, what else was there …”
“I’ll get some out of the way for you. None of the guys except me have a kid—all those love child claims are fake. Umm, oh, in the early days, we did accidentally leave Blake at a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Ohio. So that one is true.”
Lyric almost chokes. “Really?”
“He’s so quiet. We didn’t know he’d gotten off the tour bus to take a leak.”
Lyric laughs. “How mad was he?”
“Not at all. He banged some groupie he met while he waited for us to circle back.”
Lyric throws his head back. “That’s amazing. Okay, which one of you is the manwhore? You’ve got Harley, the heartbreaking monogamist. You, the single father. Blake, the quiet token blond. So, it’s either Mason or Denver.”
“Denver,” I say immediately. “Hands down. Mason is … I guess he’s a little guarded? Always has been. Of all of us, he’s the one who believes in love the least. Even temporary love in the form of hookups. I mean, not that he never did that, but it certainly wasn’t as much as Denver.”
“Wasn’t Mason engaged at, like, nineteen?”
“Yep. The reason he doesn’t believe in love. She wanted him for his fame. It’s something we’ve all kind of dealt with at some point.” I realize something. “Hang on. How did you know he was engaged at nineteen? I could maybe overlook the fact you knew Harley and I wrote most of Eleven’s songs, but Mason’s engagement is a pretty obscure piece of Eleven trivia.” I gasp. “Are you secretly a boy band fan? Oh my God, this is brill—”