* * *

(1)

Not all roads had real destinations. Sometimes the act of just moving, cruising along the twists and turns, starts and stops, was all the soul needed to find a little comfort. Sometimes that was just enough. Then that same road would lead back home, wherever it truly was.

Other times, the road, the no real destinations, well, they were home.

Ryker sat at the corner of a bar, a black cap on his head, the bill pulled down. He wore a black hoodie, jeans, and kept to himself, not wanting to bust his own cover. The last thing he needed was someone to recognize him. Then all hell would break loose. He was far away from the rest of the band and had no security here. Not that his life should have depended on security. Then again, he was the one trying his best to hide and not be seen.

That’s my choice. I just needed to get away for a minute.

The road was big, which was good, because everything else felt small. Time and technology did strange things, which wasn’t always a bad thing, considering the way Willow Son had managed to become viral sensations more than once in their careers. It seemed ever since the band hooked up with Portis and his record company, things were harder than ever before. Cutting a tour short was like slicing an artery for Ryker. He was meant to be on tour, on stage, playing music.

Yeah, there was nothing wrong with being in the studio, writing new music, but Ryker didn’t operate on deadlines. He refused to do it. Music, art, even life wasn’t run on deadlines. You just did it. It was there for the taking and you grabbed it.

Finishing off another beer, Ryker slid the glass to the end of the bar. From the corner of his eye, he caught someone staring at him. He started to turn a little, not wanting to get made right now. A few seconds later, a woman approached him. She took the empty seat next to him.

The bartender had a fresh beer for Ryker.

He reached for it and the woman put her hand to his wrist.

“Why do you look so familiar?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” Ryker said. “Do you mind?”

She opened her hand. “Sorry. I just… can you take your hat off for a second?”

“No.”

“You’re sitting here all alone. Bad break up or something?”

“No.”

Ryker gritted his teeth. He hated ditching on the band like he’d done. He hated ignoring their calls and texts. He hated knowing Portis must have been riding their ass, demanding to know where Ryker was. More than all that, greedy as it was, Ryker hated to be pushing away a beautiful woman like the one next to him. He knew damn well if he took his hat off, she’d realize how she knew him.

He was the freaking lead guitarist for Willow Son!

“You don’t feel like talking, do you?”

“No,” Ryker said again. “Sorry. I’m just having a beer and heading home.”

“Where’s home?”

Ryker rolled his eyes. Of course someone would be flirting with him right now. Such a wicked good temptation and there really wasn’t much he could do about it.

Or maybe…

“You like music, darling?” Ryker asked.

“Love it.”

“Know who’s playing tonight?”

“No idea. Some acoustic stuff, I guess.”

Ryker grabbed his beer and pushed off the barstool. “Get in the front row. You never know what could happen.”

That was all Ryker had to say. It was all he really could say. When he showed up the look on the face of the bar owner had been pretty priceless. Not that the guy could have really taken advantage of the celebrity at the bar though. Then again, all it would take was a few pictures and texts for the world to know that Ryker from Willow Son was playing a solo acoustic show. The bar would be packed in no time, buying drinks, cheering for Ryker.

But that’s not why he was there.

It wasn’t about fame.

It was about music.

Going back to the basics - a guitar, a voice, a bar. That’s where the greatest bands were built. Where the greatest songs got their first plays. Where the road met with heartache, booing, wild nights, and big dreams.

There was something beautiful and organic about a guitar, a voice, and a few people who wanted to hear the music.

Ryker slipped along the back of the wall along the bar. To his right there was a small stage. A single purple light shined down on a barstool, a mic stand, and an acoustic guitar. There was a carpet on the stage, some kind of old beat up thing. Even that had beauty to it. Imagine all the feet that stood on it. Some people who went on to become famous. Some who didn’t. But everyone who stood there had a message through their music. Good or bad, it all mattered.

He drank his beer and slipped toward the EMPLOYEES ONLY door and opened it. There was a kitchen, an office, and a small corridor that led to the stage.

Standing against a wall, Ryker put a foot up and drank his beer.

He thought of two things.

What was the rest of the band doing right now? Still looking for him? Or trying out new guitarists at the command of Portis?

Second, and most important, what the hell was he supposed to sing about in ten minutes?

********

“You need anything?” the bar owner, Chuck, asked Ryker.

“Another beer,” Ryker said.

“You have a ride home?”

“No. I’ll be fine. One beer won’t kill me.”

“But six, seven, ten will.”

Ryker grinned. “Long time at this?”

“Longer than I care to admit.”

“Guitarist?”

“How’d you guess?”

“I have a knack,” Ryker said.

“Played in a country band, of all things. We were doing our thing. Had a van. Had gigs. Had an image. Had interest from a record company.”

“What happened?”

“A woman tore us up,” Chuck said. “Happened so fast. I ended up working right here. Washing dishes. Playing gigs. I settled in and let my little country star dream weigh on me. Then I smartened up a little, went to school at night, and was able to buy the place.”

“Good for you, man.”

“Hey, what about you? I mean, you’re a rockstar. You’re too famous to be here, Ryker. This is a little strange for me.”

“I’m just taking a mental vacation from it all. The lights and noise isn’t all perfect, Chuck. Trust me.”

“But the paycheck and women have to help that a little.”

“Fair enough,” Ryker said with a grin. “Mind if I go play this gig?”

“Have at it, Ryker. For the record, I’m a huge Willow Son fan.”

“Thank you.”

Ryker turned and charged for the stage. Walking across, alone, the purple spotlight hitting him, it was a new and wild feeling. He had been used to tens of thousands of people cheering, backing music playing, the lights off, the band gathering together to get pumped up. And it was always Colby who spoke first, yelling, screaming, asking a question. Whatever the hell he felt like doing. Then Ryker would hit an open chord and let his guitar scream through the arena.

This was far different.

Ryker grabbed the guitar and put it over his shoulder. He played a G chord. Then a D. Then a C. His fingers transitioned smoothly, without even looking. It was all fluid for him, like someone who could switch languages in the middle of a sentence.

He leaned forward at the mic. “Hey.”

“Hey!” a few people yelled back.

There was a murmur of conversation from some of the high top tables and the bar. There were maybe twenty people actually looking at Ryker. He kept his hat down low, hiding his face.

He stood for a few seconds in silence.

Someone yelled out, “Play a song!”

“I will,” Ryker said.

He shut his eyes and started to strum.

Some of the best Willow Son songs were originally written on acoustic guitars. On tour buses, the hood of cars, in the back of a van, or just chilling in an apartment or garage.

A few chords into the song, more people started to look at Ryker.

He started to sing, enjoying a slowed down, cut up Willow Son song. After the second chorus and bridge, there was supposed to be a solo. Ryker didn’t have another guitarist with him though so he had to improvise. That meant playing the root notes with the guitar pick and then plucking notes higher up the neck, giving a really good sound to the song.

Ryker played it over and over, moving up and down the neck. He was the one in control of the stage and the song.

Once finished, Ryker sang the chorus two more times and then ended the song.

There was a decent amount of applause.

“Thanks,” Ryker said. He then adjusted his hat, his guitar pick between his fingers. He put his head back, loving the light on his face. Shutting his eyes again, Ryker pulled the hat off his head. He looked out to the people and watched as they started to realize who he was. “Yeah, you ready for more?”

There was more applause.

“You ready for more Willow Son?”

People cheered and whistled.

Now there were phones being pulled out. Pictures taken. Posted online. Texts sent.

Ryker looked right and nodded to Chuck, who stood with a beer in his hand off the side of the stage. Ryker really hoped Chuck was ready for this…

********

Jett strummed the last chord and let it ring out. He sat on an amp that wasn’t turned on. Next to him Brantley was messing around with a piano. Colby had a notebook on his lap. Van was running through some bass lines.

Out in the hallway he heard the voices of Harry and Portis going back and forth. Talking about budgets, studio time, what to do about Ryker.

It wasn’t the first time Ryker had taken a little time to himself. Hell, they all had done it. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. The difference was the celebrity status that came with it.

There were two guitar magazine interviews that were canceled since one of the guitarists for Willow Son had gone missing. That lead to speculation and the writers posting online about the cancellation. There was always a story to tell, truth or not, because people loved a good story and some good drama.

“He’s just hiding somewhere,” Brantley said. “He heard or knows something that has him pissed off. That’s what he does.”

“He could have talked to us,” Colby said.

“It’s Ryker,” Jett said. “Talking isn’t really his thing. He reacts and does what his heart tells him.”

“His heart is connected to his dick,” Van said.

“So what do we do?” Colby asked. “Track down every pretty woman in the country?”

“I don’t know,” Jett said. He stood up and put the guitar down. He was antsy, waiting for Masie to call him. Her dance school was growing and she had the opportunity to take a group of the girls on a road trip up north to compete. Time away from the woman he loved hurt worse than time away from the road, the tour, and the fans. “He’ll be back. He always comes back.”

“This is different,” Colby said. “We can’t have this right now. Portis is going to walk away.”

“Oh well,” Brantley said. “We’ll figure it out.”

“All I want to do is write something,” Van said. “But I can’t focus. This entire thing is a giant mess right now.”

“I think we’re doing okay,” Van said. “Think about it. Where we’ve been and how far we’ve come. It’s pretty amazing. We always hit these bumps in the road. It makes us real because we fight for what we want.”

Harry popped in on the studio. He had his hands on his hips, looking frustrated as hell.

“Portis is pissed,” Harry said.

“He’s always pissed,” Colby said.

“Well, you did punch him in the mouth, Colby. And the rest of you guys seem to be enjoying fucking up his plans.”

“What plans?” Jett asked. “Sending us out on tour with a crappy band? Pulling the plug on the tour? Giving us a deadline for an album? We’re not processed, Harry. You know that. We’re not ever going to be processed.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry said and looked around the room. “You’re not going to like what Portis has in line next. But we have to go for the ride. Take advantage of all we can while we can.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Van asked.

“Whoa, wait a second!” Brantley yelled. He jumped up from the piano and turned around. He sat, hitting notes that sounded like death. “I’ve got him!”

“What?” Jett asked.

“Ryker. Look.”

Brantley turned his phone around and sure as shit, there was Ryker. On a stage in a bar, playing acoustic guitar. Singing his heart out, stripping Willow Son classics down to their bare bones.

And he sounded damn good.

“How did you get that?” Harry asked.

“I have friends,” Brantley said with a sly grin.

“Do you know where this is?” Colby asked.

“Hell yeah.”

Jett smirked and looked at the rest of the band.

“No,” Harry shouted. “I’ll go find him. I’ll send for a car or something.”

“Road trip,” Brantley said.

“No,” Harry said.

“I agree,” Colby said. “Road trip.”

Jett laughed as Harry rubbed his forehead.

This was definitely going to piss Portis off. But at least Willow Son was going to get their guitarist back.

(2)

Ashley busted into Alyson’s room with her laptop in one hand and a big smile on her face. “Check this out!”

“What is it?” Alyson asked as she stopped typing.

She needed the break anyway. A nice long report on international business expansion was starting to get the best of her. But she had to get it done. Along with her business plan so that she could just get her MBA finalized and done. She had been fielding some job offers the last two weeks, which was always exciting and terrifying.

“Look at this,” Ashley said. She crashed to the bed and hit the space bar.

Music blared through the small speakers on the laptop. It was a guy with a guitar.

“Do you know who this is?” Ashley asked.

“It’s dark. I don’t…”

“Listen to the song.”

Alyson listened. It did sound familiar. But between the choppy recording and the noise pushing through the small laptop speakers, it was hard to really hear.

“Okay, fine,” Ashley said. “It’s Willow Son.”

“A cover?”

“No! It’s Ryker. The guitarist. By himself.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Seriously? Aly, he played right down the street last night. I have no idea why though. The rest of the band wasn’t with him.”

“Okay,” Alyson said with a grin. “What am I supposed to say?”

“You’re supposed to say… Ash, let’s go out tonight and find Ryker. Let’s track down that hunk of a rockstar and see what we can get from him.”

Alyson sighed and shook her head. She went to the bed and shut the laptop, killing the music. She grabbed Ashley by the shoulders. “Ash, you’re freaking crazy and there’s not a chance in hell you’re going to find Ryker tonight. So leave me alone so I can get my work done.”

“You’re such a geek.”

“Sorry I don’t have Daddy’s money to live on.”

“Hey, this apartment is paid for, thank you,” Ashley said. “Don’t make me kick you out.”

“You wouldn’t live ten minutes without me here. You know that.”

“Bitch,” Ashley whispered.

“Love you too.”

“I’m going out tonight to find him.”

“And if you somehow find him, then what?” Alyson asked.

“I have ten rockstar babies with him!”

“Ew.”

Ashley winked and left the room.

Alyson turned back to her report. Supply and demand. Macro and microeconomics. Supply relation. International language barriers, embargo, cargo, currency rates, government rules…

Opening her top drawer, Alyson pulled out her business plan. She opened the folder and looked at the architectural design of the building. Probably a dime a dozen kind of thing, something that wouldn’t necessarily fly with colors, but it was her project and what she wanted to talk about. She flipped through the pages and looked at some of the figures. It was a seven figure operation.

“Not a chance in hell,” Alyson whispered.

It was just a project, not a goal. Yeah, there were plenty of previous students who used their business plans to go on and actually start their businesses. Hell, there were a lot of people in her classes who were already making career salaries or were rich off businesses they opened and sold. Alyson was just bouncing in between.

Ashley said she’d talk to her father about lending the money, but that was a line Alyson refused to cross. She feared Ashley’s father in a creepy, old man, why are you looking down my shirt? kind of way. He was single, had girlfriends half his age, and flaunted his money.

Twenty more minutes of typing and Alyson called it quits.

She watched as Ashley got ready to leave for the night. Dressed up with really nowhere to go except on a wild goose chase for a rockstar who was probably long gone by now.

It was kind of cool to think about though.

Once Ashley left, Alyson went online and looked at some of the videos posted of Ryker playing his acoustic gig. A single light shining on him. An acoustic guitar in his hands. Wearing a black hoodie. Something about it made Alyson smile. But then she reminded herself he was a rockstar. He was rich and famous. Not to mention the other guitarist for the band had been busted for drugs.

Any notion of a rockstar fantasy ended when the video did.

Alyson shut her laptop down for the night.

Sleep took her fast, as it always seemed to do.

The next morning she woke up to find Ashley sitting at their little breakfast bistro table, hovering over a mug of coffee.

“You okay?” Alyson asked.

Ashley looked up, eyes weary and bloodshot. She nodded. “Yeah. I just got in a couple hours ago.”

“And you chose not to sleep?”

“Coffee first. Then sleep. The rockstar life.”

“The rockstar life,” Alyson said and laughed. She poured herself a mug of coffee and then sat across from Ashley. “Speaking of which, how did that all turn out?”

“Negative,” Ashley said. “Went to three different bars and got nothing. No Ryker. No Willow Son. I tried searching online, texting friends. No sign of him. It must have been a once in a lifetime thing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Alyson said. “At least you got to go out.”

“Yeah, that was fun. My ass was pinched twice, I drank way too many vodka drinks, and kissed two different guys.”

“And you wonder why I don’t go out.”

“You go out to different places,” Ashley said. “You and Logan. My suave.”

“Ugh, don’t talk about it.”

Ashley snorted.

Alyson went out on two dates with Logan, who she met in a business development class. He was cute, a smooth talker with plans for investing and business. A nice guy, but way too full of himself. Good to talk to when it came to business but nothing else matched up. It also made it clear when Logan boldly asked Alyson if they could just fuck once in a while. As friends. Just to get it out of their system. She wondered how many women he tried that on and how many women let it happen.

It only happened once with Alyson, after a long night of working on a project and drinking strong wine. She had felt tired, lonely, and Logan made the right move at the right time. Something Alyson regretted the next morning.

“It was kind of dumb, right?” Ashley asked. “To think I could find Ryker. It just would have been really cool.”

“It would have,” Alyson said. She looked at the clock above the table. “Look, it’s almost seven. Go catch some sleep. I have an interview to go to. I’ll be back around noon or one, then we’ll grab lunch. Okay?”

“The coffee smells so good.”

“It’ll be here when you get up. You need sleep. Play your rockstar fantasy in your mind while you sleep.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Ashley said. “I’ll never sleep then.”

“What about it makes it so sexy?”

Ashley paused. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

“Not the kind you go to.”

“That’s right. You’re all violins and shit.”

Alyson shook her head. “Sure.”

“Well, it’s simple. It’s these guys who can do whatever they want. They get on stage, there’s people that want them. Women want them. Men want to be them. There’s men who want them. Whatever works. But they have this power. Music and words and what it means. Like one song could change someone’s life forever. It could save someone. It could help take away their pain. A song could be a memory. I know the song that was playing when I kissed my first boy. When I had sex the first time. It’s so… it’s just cool. And, well, Ryker is just sexy. He’s a bad ass. Total bad ass.”

“Yeah but they have problems,” Alyson said. “The lead singer was in an accident. The other guitarist got arrested for buying pills. Didn’t Ryker have something happen, too?”

“It doesn’t matter, Alyson,” Ashley said. She yawned and stood up. “I know everything you went through was tough. And you still go through it. But you can’t judge and compare everyone. That’s hard not to do, I know. Sometimes people do dumb things, but that doesn’t make them dumb.”

“What if they keep doing it?” Alyson asked.

Ashley grinned. “I’m too tired to take you on right now. You’re so much smarter than me.” Ashley leaned down and hugged Alyson. “Just cut loose once in a while and let your hair down.”

“And have my ass grabbed? Kiss two guys? Worry about getting hit on?”

Ashley didn’t answer. She walked away.

After finishing her coffee, Alyson ate a small breakfast, took a shower, and got dressed for her interview. She left the apartment, humming a Willow Son song.

********

Three to five years? I can’t figure out the next three to five minutes. This is all bullshit. You and I both know it. You’re reading from a cue card. You have no idea what you’re looking for in me. You just have to kill time to make it seem like you care. Just collecting your paycheck.

Alyson felt the color rush to her face. She grew nervous, unable to stop thinking the thoughts rolling through her mind.

“Don’t be nervous,” Mr. Spectren said.

He was a middle aged man, thin hair, a picture on his desk of his wife, two boys, and a daughter.

“I’m sorry,” Alyson said. “Three to five years ago I had a plan of sitting right here. And here I am. So what I set my goal for, I achieve. I am in full understanding that life can change paths without question. But I found it best to adapt. So my three to five year plan is a work in progress. The dream? Sitting in a comfortable position where I trust those under me and those above me trust me. I’m able to create and harbor a positive work environment and achieve positive results.”

Mr. Spectren folded his hands and nodded. “Your resume is impressive. You know your stuff, Ms. Porsmenth.”

“Thank you,” Alyson said.

“I know you’ve interviewed with several other companies.”

Alyson opened her mouth, nervous.

“It’s okay!” Mr. Spetren said. “That’s a good thing. There’s a lot of interest in you. When do you finished your MBA?”

“Not soon enough,” Alyson said. “I have two projects left and I’m done.”

“So I can consider you to be ready to work?”

“If there’s an offer…”

Mr. Spectren folded his hands and leaned forward. “I’m sure we can make an arrangement. Off the record, Alyson.” He smiled. Not a good smile. “How bad do you want the job?”

“Excuse me?”

“How bad do you want the job?”

“I would be honored…”

Mr. Spectren reached out and put the picture of his family face down. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Did you eat lunch? Can I buy you lunch? Show you the executive side of life?”

Alyson felt heat rush to her face.

Is this really happening right now? Is he implying…

“I’m sorry,” Alyson said. “I’m confused.”

“No need to be,” Mr. Spectren said. “I’m going to buy you lunch. Anything you want. We can go find a nice, cozy, high rise restaurant right in the city. I’ll call for a company car. All paid for. Just you and me. We can discuss your career. What you want.”

Alyson rose to her feet. “I want a job. Not you.”

Mr. Spectren’s eyes went wide. “Do you understand the opportunity?”

“What? To…”

Alyson couldn’t bring herself to say it.

To sleep with you?!

It made her shudder. Not just because Mr. Spectren was an unattractive man, to her at least, but because he had a family. Better yet, how many people actually went along with him?

“I’m going to have to rethink this position,” Alyson whispered. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Spectren. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure… all mine.”

Alyson hurried toward the door of the office.

Before she left, she heard Mr. Spectren pick up his phone. “Barbara, let’s keep looking. That last applicant just wasn’t going to work out. Sadly. She’s not a team player.”

Once back outside, Alyson felt too dressed up with nowhere to go.

Maybe Ashley was right. Maybe it was time to cut loose a little.

Alyson’s cell phone rang. She cringed, fearing it was her mother, in trouble, again. It wasn’t her mother, but it wasn’t much better though. It was the bank, looking for money.

Worry filled Alyson’s body. She looked back at the building.

No.

She would figure this all out.

One way or another. There was no way in hell she would compromise herself. At least not for a guy like that.

(3)

Ryker was on the road again. He had been circling the same area for a few days now. If he had really planned on bolting for good, he would have been long gone. This was just temporary. A chance to cut away from the world. Plus, it was fun to see the reaction of fans when they realized who he was. He had played three shows, each one turning into a wild night of hanging with fans and finding somewhere to crash, just like the old days. Waking up the next morning and taking off. Hitting the road, grabbing some coffee and a breakfast sandwich, and just going.

Parking on the side of the road near a bend, Ryker jumped the guardrail and walked down to the ocean water. It wasn’t exactly safe, definitely not a place to swim, but it was pretty serene to watch the end of the world right before his eyes. Listening to the water hit the rocks. Splashing up over, glistening until the sun dried it up and the next wave soaked the rocks again. Watching the motion gave Ryker a sense of calm and peace. The push and pull, the cycle that never ended because if it did… well… everything would end, right?

Sticking his hands into his pockets, Ryker loved the way the breeze fought against his shirt, his hair, wanting control. Memories slipped through the cracks of their cages and ran rampant in his mind. Hell, that was half the reason he was out here. Watching his family crumble for years, the only thing that ever made sense was music. Finding a way to stay somewhat level and express himself through that goddamn horrible sound his brother used to scream about. Ryker wanted to grin about it, but he couldn’t. His brother had always meant well but was a complete asshole. A grumpy, forever waiting for death kind of man, just like their father.

Grumbling under his breath, Ryker turned and walked away from the beach. He had two choices now. He could either drink himself stupid or play some goddamn rock n’ roll music. His fingers trembled for that wicked good electric sound. Brantley on the drums, causing mayhem. Jett filling in the guitar sound. Van carrying the bass line. Colby bringing words to life.

Or it could just be Ryker again, one more time, for the hell of it. There was nothing like that natural sound of an acoustic guitar. The roughness of his voice was far from perfect, but bleeding with passion. Covering his own band’s songs was one thing, but playing music he wrote - music, lyrics - that was a whole other feeling.

Ryker grabbed his cell and called Chuck.

One more show, man. Can I do it? Yeah… no problem… you could tell the fucking world for all I care. Ryker from Willow Son is coming… one more time. One more show.

Ryker got into his car and sped away. A smile crept across his face.

There really was nothing like the open road and music in your heart.

********

The bar was beyond packed. Chuck looked flustered as he ran from the office to the kitchen, making phone calls to family and friends, begging for extra help. The people poured out of the bar to the sidewalks and streets, prompting a visit from the local police. For Ryker, as he stood with his guitar in the small corridor, he couldn’t believe that his name caused all this. It was sometimes an overwhelming feeling, like a responsibility he didn’t want or need. For all Ryker cared, he could have played bars for the rest of his life. Yeah, the money was really good. Fuck, the money had been so good. Rich wasn’t even a word for Ryker because there was just so much. Even still, he could have made his way around the country, jamming some shows, washing dishes for gas money, anything to feel free.

Then again, the money was awesome.

“Christ, just get the fuck here!” Chuck yelled.

He stopped dead, ended the call, and faced Ryker.

“How’s your night?” Ryker asked Chuck.

“This is fucking crazy,” Chuck said.

“Welcome to my life.”

“It’s not a bad life, man. Thanks for coming back.”

“Thanks for giving me a stage again.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Not that it’s my goddamn business,” Chuck said, “but what’s up with the rest of the band?”

“You’re right. That’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Okay.”

“I’m kidding, Chuck,” Ryker said. “I’m just taking a break from life for a second. What you have out there right now, man, is what I have everyday. I’m not complaining about it. But when you deal with the business part of it, it can weigh you down. I’m nothing but a product, you know?”

“I hear that,” Chuck said. “Well, the stage is yours. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m always ready,” Ryker said. “Hey, Chuck, I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you hand it over to your manager for a second. Come on stage with me.”

“No…”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go. Get a guitar. Tune up. Hurry.”

Chuck turned and tossed his phone to someone. He went into his office and came out with a beautiful black acoustic guitar. It had a custom inlay along the neck and a beautiful custom cut semi hollow body.

“Whoa,” Ryker said.

“Gift from the record company a long time ago,” Chuck said.

Ryker walked onto the stage and the bar lit up with screams. It was deafening. Ryker gave a wave and then calmed the crowd down.

“First off,” he said, “you wild people got the police here already!”

The bar erupted again.

Ryker waved to calm everyone down again. “Okay, stay calm. If they come again, they’ll shut us down. And nobody shuts me down. So I’ll keep playing. And then I’ll get arrested.”

Everyone started to boo.

“Hey, the guy next to me deserves all the love right now,” Ryker said. “This is Chuck. He owns this place. He’s letting me rock this place. So let’s hear it for Chuck.”

The crowd erupted again.

Ryker stepped back to Chuck and yelled, “Follow my lead. I’m sure you know what to do.”

Ryker started to play a Willow Son song. Chuck came right in on the second time. The sound was richer because of the two guitars. The entire bar was dancing, holding up their drinks, singing along with him. For the last chorus, Ryker stepped back and let the everyone at the bar sing to him. The band always did this in arenas, which was pretty damn amazing to have twenty, thirty, forty thousand people singing back. But for some reason, in the bar, with a hundred people, it was so intimate and perfect.

Hitting the last chord, Ryker shook his head.

He turned to look at Chuck and did a double take.

Standing in the corridor off the stage was the rest of the band.

Willow Son.

Ryker stood at the mic. “Wow. Tonight is going to be even crazier. I can’t believe what I’m about to say. So… you’re all Willow Son fans, right?”

Everyone cheered.

“That’s what I thought. And you all love Chuck, right?”

Applause. But not enough.

“No, no, no,” Ryker said. “That’s not loud enough. Chuck gave you a place to drink and hear music.”

The bar erupted louder.

“Good,” Ryker said. “So I’m just going to say this… the rest of the band is here…”

The next two hours were nothing short of a blur. The entire bar went crazy. Chuck scrambled to tear his guitar off and rush from the stage. Ryker figured he was trying to figure out how to keep his bar intact as Willow Son took the small stage.

Five rockstars. Five guitars. One show.

The only reason they stopped playing was because it was close to eleven and the police had to come again. As much as Ryker didn’t give a shit about going to jail, he figured he’d done enough to the band already. They called it a night, thanked everyone, and Ryker offered to buy everyone a drink if they promised to calm down and enjoy the rest of the night quietly.

Willow Son had to hang in the kitchen area, waiting for a ride. Chuck flew around the bar, in and out of the kitchen, calling out orders, looking like he was ready to pass out. When he finally did stop, he stood and shook his head at the band.

“If you get fined,” Brantley said, “we’ll pay it.”

“Tell me what the bar tab is,” Ryker said. “I promised everyone a drink.”

“It’s all good,” Chuck said. “This is the craziest night I’ve had in a long time.”

“Yeah, us too,” Van said. “For different reasons.”

Van eyed Ryker.

As fun as the night was, Ryker knew there was a serious conversation to be had.

And it started the second they all climbed into the backseat of a car.

“Found you,” Jett said.

“Busted,” Ryker said. “Like I was on the run.”

“You have Portis terrified,” Colby said.

“And Harry is losing his mind,” Van said.

“First off, Harry is always losing his mind,” Ryker said. “Second, Portis can screw himself.”

“What is it, man?” Brantley asked. “Come on.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We do,” Colby said. “We have to talk about it.”

Ryker looked out the window. Someone had called someone to arrange for a hotel room. Another enjoyment of being a rockstar and being rich.

At the hotel, Willow Son crashed into their room and Brantley led the way to the bar. He poured drinks and pointed to Ryker.

“We either do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said.

“Which is?” Ryker asked.

“We drink and talk,” Brantley said. “Or everyone but you drinks… and we keep you away all night until you talk.”

Ryker sat on the arm of the couch. “I don’t know. I went to get something in the studio one night and heard Portis and Harry talking about a reality show.”

“What?” Jett asked.

“Yeah. It just freaked me out. Like we’re going to become puppets for things, you know? I mean, is that shit true?”

“I don’t know,” Colby said. “They’ve been talking about ways to keep our image going. It’s no lie that we have a bad boy rockstar thing going on. If they want to push that, that’s up to them. I just want to write music and get on stage. Look at that bar tonight.”

“Then let’s do that,” Ryker said. “Just go off the grid and play shows like that.”

“We can’t,” Van said. “I mean, we can do some, but we have an album to finish.”

“With a deadline,” Ryker said. “That’s forcing music.”

“We’re good enough to make it work,” Colby said. “Considering one of our guitarists has a pretty good set of acoustic songs.”

“You watched the videos?” Ryker asked.

“Of course,” Brantley said. “Those are good songs.”

Colby grinned. “Really good.”

Ryker stood and sighed. He walked to the window and stood there. “Shit. I shouldn't have left. I just get annoyed and split. You know me.”

“We know you, man,” Jett said. “That’s why we didn’t chase you down right away.”

“We’re your brothers,” Colby said. “You know that. I know when there’s too much authority on your back, you attack. Again, we’re sorry for all you’ve been through.”

“Ending the tour sucked,” Van said. “It really did. It was a mess to begin with. But it showed us how much the fans love us. We have a long way to go.”

“I’ll figure this out,” Ryker said. “I’ll make it up to you guys. I promise.”

“You’re damn right you will,” Brantley said. “Whatever Portis wants… we better go with.”

Ryker looked over his shoulder. “Even a reality show?”

“Maybe not quite that far,” Colby said. “We need Portis’ power and financial backing. He needs our music. So we compromise.”

“Let me give Harry a quick call,” Van said. “Let him know we’re alive and that Ryker is alive. He’ll probably call Portis. It’ll be back to business tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Ryker said. “We’ll hit the studio. I have an idea anyway.”

“Does it involve leaving the band?” Jett asked.

Ryker turned. “I want to punch you in the mouth, man.”

“Go for it,” Jett said. “You owe me a few, don’t you?”

Ryker had the urge to do it, too. He felt a jolt of anger and a little fear. It was easier on stage. It was easier to get lost in music.

But there was something far bigger waiting out there on the horizon. That’s what Ryker always told himself. The only problem was that most of the time, the horizon seemed really dark.

(4)

“So did anything come of that interview?”

“No. Why?” Alyson asked, looking up from a pot of water, waiting for it to boil. This had become her life. Literally watching and waiting for water to boil so she could cook a box of spaghetti that had been on sale at the grocery store for less than a buck.

“That guy hit on you and you did nothing,” Ashley said.

“Nothing to say about it,” Alyson said. “That’s just life. Better off I find that out about him now than after taking a job.”

“What an asshole.”

Alyson shrugged her shoulders. The weight on her shoulders felt heavier than ever. She had a few payments due on credit cards and other debts that she desperately needed a decent paying job for. Her part-time waitress job wasn’t cutting it at all right now. She could ask for full-time, but was that what she really wanted? Almost six figures in student loan debt to get the degree of her dreams and her job offers hadn’t been there. Interviews, yes. Possibilities, sure. One creepy guy that hit on her, definitely.

But nothing that got her a paycheck.

Alyson shook her head.

“What is it?” Ashley asked.

“I never wanted to work for money,” Alyson said. “That sounds so stupid, I know. But I wanted to find something I loved. That’s what everyone told me. Find something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. I call bullshit on that.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Ashley said.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing!”

Everything fell silent. The hiss of the steam from the pot of water gently turned into a boil. Alyson gritted her teeth. She looked away for a second.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she said. “I’m sorry, Ash.”

Ashley nodded. “It’s okay.” She pushed from the table and stood. “Not that it’s my place to defend anything, but my life isn’t all that easy sometimes. My father’s girlfriend is younger than me. I never had a family. Or friends. Everything had a price tag to it. You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Christ,” Alyson whispered. She felt a lump in her throat. She left the water boiling and met Ashley halfway and hugged her. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m mad. This is not your fault. You’re helping me so much right now.”

“Because of the free apartment?”

“No. Because you’re my friend.”

Ashley looked at Alyson. “And the free apartment.”

“Fine. The free apartment helps.”

They both smiled.

“I want to find that guy and cut his balls off,” Ashley said.

“Trust me, you don’t. He’d probably like it. I just can’t help but wonder how many women like me fell for it. You know? Like they think that kind of thing helps.”

“That’s why you’re smart. Miss MBA.”

“Yeah. Go me.”

“Hey, if you need money…”

Alyson backed away. “Nope. Not a chance in hell, Ash. I’ll never borrow money from a friend. That only causes problems.”

“Then we just have to find a way for you to make some extra money.” Ashley paused and then grinned. “How do you feel about taking your clothes off for money?”

“Camera or no camera involved?” Alyson asked.

“Aly!”

“I’m joking,” Alyson said.

Alyson peeled open the box of spaghetti and poured it into the boiling water.

“I can’t believe I’m eating at home. Last time I did that was… Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah,” Alyson said. “Your father was in Cancun and my mother… well, whatever.” Alyson cleared her throat. “Plus, your liver needs a detox night. You’ve been bar hoping, chasing Willow Son for too long.”

“And I screwed that up,” Ashley said.

Ashley had gone to two bars almost an hour away because someone who knew someone claimed they knew Ryker was going to be at a bar. Ryker never showed. That night, he ended up at the first bar from the first night he did his little spontaneous solo tour. And if that wasn’t enough, the rest of the band showed up on stage to jam for a couple hours. In fact, since then, there were rumors popping up online that Willow Son might be doing more acoustic only shows and they might be releasing an acoustic only album.

“I’m sure you’ll see the band,” Alyson said. “They’ll be on tour.”

“Not like that. That’s really cool, right? Just these big time sexy rockstars like two feet away in a little bar, having fun. Ah… I can’t think about it anymore. It’s going to piss me off.”

Alyson crouched down and opened the cabinet. “This will help.”

Alyson hid an expensive bottle of wine three months ago. She was going to drink it after getting her first job offer.

“That’s your job wine,” Ashley said with air quotes.

“Fuck my job,” Alyson said with a smile. “Let’s get drunk.”

“I thought my liver was supposed to detox.”

“You’re right. I’ll just get drunk.”

“No, that doesn’t work,” Ashley said. “That’s teasing. I’ll just detox from going out. How’s that sound?”

Alyson handed the bottle of wine over to Ashley. “Cheers then.”

Two hours later, Alyson poured the last of the wine in her glass. She looked over at Ashley, who was feeling as good as she was.

“I hate men,” Ashley announced.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They all suck.”

“I won’t disagree. But since when do you care about men? You love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“No, no,” Ashley said. “I don’t love anyone. I don’t sleep around. I have fun but I don’t just, you know, open my legs and say, come n’ get it…”

“Ew,” Alyson said and then laughed.

One thing they both had in common was that wine made their hearts open and made them watch sappy romance movies. It always started out the same way. They’d get excited, put something on, and by the end of the movie, they would hate the way it ended. Because none of it was real. And none of it could happen in real life.

Nobody just swooped in and saved a woman. Or fell in love. Or any of that junk.

“We should watch a horror movie,” Ashley said. “That’s more like our lives.”

Alyson snorted. She looked at the empty wine bottle. “God, I feel like a hypocrite.”

“Why?”

Alyson reached out with her foot and kicked the wine bottle over. It hit the table with a thunk. “That’s why.”

“Wine?”

“Everything I’ve been through with my mother, right? And I’m home, drunk.”

“The difference is that you’re home and relaxing while drunk. You’re not out driving, causing problems, calling people. You can’t beat yourself up about it.”

“And my final project is about a recovery center. I’m a hypocrite.”

“Jesus, Aly,” Ashley said. “You’re being insane now. Don’t ruin tonight. I’m tired, lonely, and horny.”

“Good to know.”

“I was saving myself for Ryker.”

Alyson burst out laughing. “You really just said that?”

“Shut up. It could have happened. Maybe it still could.”

“Good luck.”

Alyson put her head back. The room spun. She smiled. Then she thought about it. A little fling with a rockstar. That would definitely spice up life.

********

Alyson felt the bed shaking. She then heard a fading voice as Ashley called her name. When Alyson’s head popped up, she looked at the clock. It was almost three in the morning. They had called it quits over three hours ago. Tired, half drunk, Alyson forced herself to sit up.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I have something to show you,” Ashley said.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, everyone is okay. Don’t be so negative all the time.”

“You’re waking me up in the middle of the night. That’s never good news. It’s always bad or life changing.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s bad. But it could be life changing.”

Alyson yawned and ran a hand through her messy hair. “What?”

Ashley grabbed a laptop off Alyson’s floor. She sat next to her and turned it so Alyson could see it. “You have to read this. This is… insane.”

At first, Alyson was going to just pretend to read it. She could then placate Ashley and convince her to go the hell to bed. Then they could actually talk in the morning. But something caught Alyson’s eyes.

Willow Son.

That opened her eyes wider. So she took the time to read it.

When she finished, she didn’t know what to say. It seemed impossible. But Ashley was right - it could definitely be life changing.

(5)

Ryker sat in the big office with Portis on one side of the desk and himself, Harry, and the rest of Willow Son on the other side. Portis was in a fancy suit, hands folded, deep in thought. Harry had worked to keep the talks alive and well between all parties.

Simply put, it was a power play here. Ryker knew it. The band knew it. Portis knew it. They were there to see who could make the final push or who would be the one to give in and give up.

“I don’t like the extra album idea. The acoustic thing doesn’t make sense.”

“Does to us,” Ryker said.

“Look, you skipped town, played a couple bars, and now you’re an acoustic act? You want to live like that? Go then. I’ll cut the deal, rip up the contract, and you can go buy a broken down van and make pennies.”

“If it gets me out of this shithole of an office,” Ryker snapped.

Portis laughed. He closed the folder in front of him. “I’ve kept my end of the deal. Yours is simple… give me an album to sell. Not an acoustic thing that’s sold in coffee houses. Not something that’s going to be eaten up by your loyal fans. I want the radio, the tour, the television.” Portis stood up. “I want the awards, award show performances. I want you guys playing on New Year’s Eve at midnight. I want you on the national networks playing their dumb concert stuff. I want you everywhere. Selling food, cars, and, yes, I want this all on camera right now. The Willow Son reality show.”

“No,” Ryker said.

“Hey,” Harry said. “You don’t talk now.”

“Like hell,” Colby said. “We’re a band. We’re not puppets.”

Portis curled his fingers and wiggled them. “You went on tour with Crutch Fail, didn’t you?”

“That was different,” Van said. “That was a tour. That was the road, where we belong.”

“Now you belong in front of millions of faces. Not on video sites from shitty cell phone recordings. But real production.”

“Reality show?” Ryker asked. “So we get told what to do and make it look real?”

“Like that’s any different from what you do now?”

Ryker hit the desk and jumped up. Jett grabbed his arm and Ryker shook it away.

“Christ, bro,” Jett said.

Ryker turned and pushed at Jett, sending his chair toppling over. Jett caught himself from falling. He bumped into Ryker.

They were ready to go.

“Hey, stop it,” Brantley said. He cut an arm between the guitarists. “You morons.”

“Exactly,” Portis said. “Get this shit on camera and we’re filthy rich.”

“Jesus,” Harry said. He was the only one left sitting.

“What we do on stage is not scripted,” Ryker said.

“You play a song that’s already been written and recorded. How is that not scripted? You have a set list. You play it. You entertain.”

Ryker gritted his teeth. “It’s not the same.”

Portis made fists and put them on the table. “You owe me. I signed you guys when you had nothing. Your lead singer punched me in the face. Your other guitarist was arrested for buying drugs. And now, Ryker, you owe me. Taking off like that? Time is money, brother.”

Silence fell in the office.

Ryker made fists but stood down. He inched back, nodding. He turned and started to pace the office.

“Look, I can have a production crew ready in days,” Portis said. “We can test the waters and take it from there. This will increase your popularity. You’ll become household names. That means monster tours. We won’t have to worry about opening acts and any logistic issues. This opens doors.”

“Lines your pockets,” Colby said.

“Yours too,” Portis said. “Tell them, Harry.”

“I’m doing best by the band,” Harry said. “I really wish everyone could just ta…”

“Let us record the album,” Ryker said. “The acoustic album. Film that. Studio only. Put it out as a special. Break it up into parts.” Ryker turned and faced Portis; now he was on the opposite end of the room.

“And what do I get?” Portis asked.

Ryker opened his arms. “Me.”

“You?”

“No reality show… do the album with the filming of it. You’ll get reality TV then. Us writing, recording, drinking, fighting. But you want the commercialized shit. Fine. You get me. Ryker from Willow Son. Hold a contest. One lucky fan will win a date with me. I’ll do or say anything you want.”

“No way,” Brantley said. “You don’t have to do that.”

Ryker stared at Portis. “Yes I do. I let you guys down. I shouldn’t have left like I did. I had to do it though. Truth is, Portis and Harry, I heard you both talking in the studio one night. All this reality stuff is not reality at all. We’re rockstars. We want to write, record, sell albums, and tour.”

“It doesn’t work that way anymore,” Portis said.

Now Harry stood up. He put a hand out to Portis. “Ryker, he’s right. You know that. The internet changed everything. We’ve seen bands rise and fall quickly.”

“So I’m offering something,” Ryker said. “Hold a contest. Let fans write in, record a video, I don’t know. Make it a spectacle. Give them a grand prize of money and a date with Ryker. A true rockstar thing.”

The office was silent.

“Yeah,” Portis said and nodded. “So if we do the acoustic thing, we’ll keep it low key. Kind of like hidden cameras, lots of black and white shots. Show the emotion of the album. I want you guys on a bus, in the studio, writing in notebooks. Piecing it together.”

“The songs are already written,” Van said.

“Then rewrite them,” Portis said.

“You’ll give us the backing?” Ryker asked.

“You’ll give me the rockstar date?” Portis shot back.

“Yeah, I’ll do that for you. I’d love to take someone out on a date. Rockstar style.”

“Jesus,” Harry said again, shaking his head.

“You just want to get laid,” Jett said.

“I can do that easily,” Ryker said. “I’m offering myself for everyone here. I’m the bad guy, right? I’m the jerk rockstar. So let me play the part. We can’t ask Colby or Jett because they’re tied down. So I’ll do it. Plus, not to sound cocky, I have a little following right now thanks to my bar shows.”

“Bar shows,” Harry said. “Set it up. Let them play some shows.”

“After each show airs,” Colby said. “To highlight the acoustic feel.”

Portis crossed his arms. “Give me some of the new album then. A mix of the black and white acoustic feel with the heavier rock n’ roll sound.”

“Done,” Van said. “Just end all this shit.”

“And I want a single to release when this is all done. The first single off the new album.” Portis grinned. “And I promise you guys, it’ll go straight to number one. The second you see it, you’ll get everything I’m wanting to do.”

“So we all agree?” Harry asked. “Nothing else to talk about?”

“Nothing,” Ryker said.

He turned and tore out of the office. The hallway was lined with custom painted pictures of musical notes, instruments, and bands that Portis had worked with throughout the years. Ryker crashed against the wall and rubbed his temples.

The door opened a second later and Jett came out.

The two guitarists faced off.

“What?” Ryker asked.

“Are you sure about this?” Jett asked.

“Not at all. But what am I going to do?”

“Fight back.”

“No. I like the acoustic thing. It needs to be heard. And filming it is actually kind of cool to have. When we’re old men we can look back on it.”

“But this date thing… win a date with a rockstar?”

“So?”

“It’s tacky.”

“I’m tacky,” Ryker said. “What the hell do I care?”

“You know this is going to explode, right?” Jett asked.

“Yeah. It’s going to be something.”

The rest of the band came out of the office. They gathered around Ryker. All Ryker wanted to do was get in the studio. Record some music. Have Harry work on getting gigs at whatever bars that could handle the Willow Son crowds.

It didn’t matter about the date thing. It was a contest. It was one date. It would come and go like a drop of water in a bucket.

It wasn’t like Ryker was going to meet the woman of his dreams.

********

“They’re grabbing some random names,” Ashley said. “But I took it a step further. I made sure to send in a video about myself. How much I love Willow Son. How many times I’ve seen them in concert. All the shirts and stuff. I’m telling you, this is going to happen.”

“Well, if you win, you deserve it,” Alyson said. She flipped through what was hopefully the last printed pages of her report to hand in. She was done with everything that had to do with her degree at this point. Hell, she was kind of done with everything in life.

“I did something else,” Ashley said.

Alyson looked up. “Oh?”

“There was a referral thing. If you did it, you get like more points or something. It increases your chances of getting picked.”

“Okay…”

“So I put your name in it.”

“What?” Alyson asked.

“So what? If you get to go, then go. You get money if you win. So that could help with your stuff, right?”

Alyson’s jaw dropped. “Yeah… sure.” Then she thought about it. “Okay. I could win money by dating a rockstar. That’s what every graduate student hopes for.”

“Better than nothing,” Ashley said and stuck her tongue out.

“So how does this all work?”

“They’re going to email people. Then there’s a free Willow Son show in the park. That’s going to be freaking amazing. After that, a winner gets chosen. They get to go on a date with Ryker! Can you imagine it?”

“What if it’s all fake?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Ash. A lot of that stuff is planned out. This is all just a way for the band to sell music and stuff. You know that, right?”

“I guess,” Ashley said. “It’s still a free concert and kind of cool. They are filming the date, I think.”

“Exactly.”

Alyson turned her laptop off and spun around in her chair. Ashley looked a little dejected as she sat on the bed. There were times when Alyson was honestly jealous of Ashley’s life. She could be a free spirit and never had to worry about money. But then times like right now Alyson almost felt bad for her. Her life and world was a fantasy.

“Forget about this stuff,” Alyson said. “Focus on yourself. What are you planning on doing?”

“Tonight?”

“No. Just in general. I mean, do you have a dream job or career?”

“Not really. I actually like to write books.”

“That’s great,” Alyson said. “Go after it. Live your life, not someone else’s. Those guys are rockstars. They’re famous. I’m sure their lives are nothing like ours, you know? Sometimes it’s fun to think about, but in all truth, what is it really?”

“I know,” Ashley said. “I’ve always had a sore spot for the bad guys in life. Maybe because I’m so used to getting let down by guys in my life. So I look for it again and again.”

“Don’t sell yourself so short,” Alyson said. “You’ll find someone. They don’t have to be bad though. Maybe they can just look it.”

Ashley laughed. “A tough guy with tattoos who is gentle and romantic. Sign me up.”

Ashley’s phone rang and she rushed from the bedroom. It had nothing to do with the Willow Son thing, but it was an old friend wanting to get something to eat and have a few drinks. Ashley offered Alyson to go but Alyson declined. The appeal of going out had lost its luster a long time ago. Then again, all the talk about dating made Alyson wonder if she should go out and try to meet someone. Anyone. Someone who wasn’t waist deep in advanced business stuff, searching for a job, dreaming of a career, wondering what the hell the point of life was.

Long after Ashley left, Alyson was in bed, her TV on a small nightstand, droning. The volume was turned down to almost mute. She kept it on for the light. It was something silly from when Alyson was a kid and it just stuck with her. She didn’t like to sleep without light. Such a childish thing to carry in life.

Alyson yawned. Her eyes felt tired and strained. Her body begged for sleep, but her mind and heart were wide awake. She yearned for something different and maybe even something a little wild. To step on the edge that Ashley walked. To cross that line a little.

Settling on sleep, Alyson put her phone down and shut her eyes.

When she heard her phone vibrate, she wasn’t sure if it was an hour later or five hours later. She feared it would be a text from her mother - or from Ashley looking for a ride home.

It wasn’t that at all.

It was an official email from… Willow Son.

Alyson had been chosen to take part of winning a date with Ryker.

(6)

Ryker ran through the last part of a song and then took the guitar off and handed it to the tech. “Sounds good to me. Watch the low E string though. Feels loose.”

“I’ll change it,” the tech said. “Then I’ll tune it back up again.”

“Thanks, man.”

Ryker walked away and stayed along the side of all the crates of equipment. Being outside on a stage was always a fun thing. Portis had definitely come through on his part of the deal with the album, money, and shows. So now Ryker needed to look and act the part of the bad boy rockstar and pick a woman to date. That’s how it was going. There were ten women picked and Ryker got to choose whoever he wanted.

It was actually not a bad thing, just a little weird that it was broadcasted in such a way.

The rest of the band members were doing press interviews about the albums, what had happened on the road, touring, recording. It was like a melee of media all for Willow Son.

“Hey! Ryker!”

He stopped and turned. There were three people standing at a gate. They were waving and jumping. Security spotted them and started to charge at them. The entire park had been set up like the President was coming through. It seemed a little too much, but Portis loved things in excess.

Ryker caught up to the security guards and said, “It’s good. They’re just fans.”

“They can’t be here,” one of the guards said. “They have to get out of here.”

“Give me a minute,” Ryker said.

He ran to the gate and the three fans were still jumping up and down. It was two guys and a woman.

“Ryker! This is insane.”

“What’s up?” Ryker asked. “You coming to the show?”

“Yeah, man,” the other guy said.

“I want to date you,” the woman said. “I entered the contest but didn’t win.”

“Aw, that’s okay,” Ryker said. “You really think I’m a one woman guy?”

The woman blushed and touched her cheeks. “Oh, can I give you my phone number then? Can we go out?”

“Just be at the show, babe,” Ryker said.

“Ryker, man, can you sign my shirt?” the first guy asked.

“Of course I can.”

Ryker took a marker from the second guy and signed their shirts. He then looked at the woman, grinning. “What about you, babe? What do you want me to sign?”

“This…”

She pulled up her shirt, exposing a white, lacey bra. Ryker nodded. She had nice chest to her. Short, a little curvy, maybe not exactly Ryker’s taste, but hey, he was a rockstar. She was a woman. He could have her anywhere he wanted.

Curling his lip, Ryker winked at the woman and then signed her bra. With his other hand, he cupped her other breast just for good measure.

“Have to keep steady,” he said. “I’d hate to mess up my own autograph.”

The woman’s face was apple red, her hands shaking.

Ryker then leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Enjoy the show.”

He turned and started to walk. Then he tossed the marker up the air and kept going. He cut to the left, disappearing out of view, and went to find the beer tent. Today would definitely be a drinking show.

Before Ryker could get to the beer, his attention was stolen by something else. He leaned against a pillar and crossed his arms. A woman and man stood with clipboards and headsets on. They were talking to a group of women. No shock to Ryker when he saw it was ten women. They all stood, listening. This entire thing was going to be planned and processed. Even the freaking date was going to be the same way. Planned and processed.

Out of the ten women - who were all damn beautiful in their own way - one stuck out like a sore thumb. Nine of the women were dressed ready for a rock concert. Willow Son shirts that were custom ripped, cut, sleeves rolled up. A couple women wore low cut tanks with the Willow Son logo on it. Jean shorts, tight jeans, anything to get the attention of the rockstar waiting in the wings.

Then there was the tenth woman.

She was in dark blue shorts with flat shoes that made her way shorter than everyone else. Her shirt was a pale blue color that wasn’t too tight. The shirt hugged her body in all the rights spots. Rounded hips, her breasts pushing at the shirt, but nothing forced and revealing. Her hair was a light brown color and something about her face, her eyes, she was scared but determined. Like she had something to lose in all this.

Ryker caught himself smiling, wondering if the woman even knew who the hell he was.

“Taking in the contestants?” Colby stepped up next to Ryker and folded his arms. “This is a nice hideout.”

“I was going to get a beer,” Ryker said. “But then I saw them.”

The guy with the clipboard started to wave his arm, round and round, ushering the woman along. The woman touched her headset and started to yell something about the schedule.

“So who’s going to win this?” Colby asked.

“Does it really matter, man?”

“Probably not. It was your idea. Remember that.”

Ryker nodded. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who was walking eighth in line. She didn’t have any jewelry on either. No rings, bracelets, not even earrings. Christ, she wouldn’t let up on Ryker’s attention.

“Look at you,” Colby said, bringing Ryker back to reality. “You’re in a freaking daze right now. You want all ten.”

Ryker looked at Colby. “Maybe I do. Maybe I will have them all. At the same time. The best night of my life.”

“Have at it, man.”

Ryker stepped forward and watched the women as they were escorted toward the stage. He wanted to see that woman’s ass. He wanted to see her shorts hugging her, wanting to be jealous of her back pockets.

But the women were out of sight.

Someone let out a long whistle. Ryker looked and saw Van waving.

“Come on,” Colby said. “We have one more interview to do.”

The band got together and sat around a table full of radio equipment. A local station was having a remote show at the concert. The band went through the motions… the same questions about the same things. Plugging the acoustic album. Plugging the full album. Talking about the new single that was coming out in a week. Talking about the free show in the park, the dating contest, and about Ryker playing those bar shows.

“Hey,” Ryker said, “the bottom line is that we like to play music. So if I’m hanging around, having a drink in a bar, and I decide I want to play guitar, I’m going to do it. Nothing will stop me from being a rockstar.”

“You heard it here,” the radio host said, “it’s all about being a rockstar. That means bar shows, concert venues, and dates. But Ryker, be honest. How are you going to make this decision? I mean, ten beautiful women standing in front of you. You have to pick one. What do you do?”

“Who said I had to pick just one?” Ryker said.

Everyone laughed.

“I think the rules of the contest, man,” Jett said.

“Rules? What the hell are rules?” Ryker asked. “Remember… whatever I want. When I want it.”

Ryker took the headphones off and stood up.

Interview, over.

As the radio host kept talking, Ryker gave a quick wave and walked out from the tent. The rest of Willow Son stayed.

“Don’t mind him,” Brantley said. “He needs to go pamper himself for his big date.”

Ryker ignored the comment and set his sights on the stage.

A couple fans ran up to him and asked for autographs and pictures. He stopped and gave a thumbs up for the pics, but didn’t smile. He wasn’t in the game of forcing a smile when he didn’t feel like it.

He made a line for the stage, bypassing his guitar tech who had a question about what kind of strings Ryker preferred. Ryker’s answer? Simple. Fucking guitar strings!

At the side of the stage, Ryker looked around. He wanted to see where the ten lucky women had been taken. More importantly, there was one that demanded his attention. A group of people spotted Ryker and started screaming for him and Willow Son. That caused a stir in the crowd and security rushed, asking Ryker to stay out of sight. It didn’t take much for Willow Son fans to get rowdy.

Inching back, Ryker watched as security fought to get the crowd under control. It was warm out, even if it was near the end of the day. Music blared through speakers, but it wasn’t the music they all wanted. They wanted to see their free Willow Son concert.

Soon enough, people. Soon enough.

Ryker turned and felt something crash into him. Something splashed his face and soaked his shirt. He looked down, realized it was water, and then looked up, ready to go after whoever had just spilled water on him.

Instead, Ryker was caught off guard.

It was her. The woman. The one who definitely didn’t belong here.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry,” the woman said.

The woman stood with a red cup that was tilted forward, the water all over Ryker’s chin, neck, and soaked into his shirt.

“Trying to get my attention, darling?” Ryker asked.

The woman’s face flushed. “I was walking with my head down. They told me to. In case someone saw me. I just wanted a drink.”

“And now I’m wearing it,” Ryker said.

“Oh, I am so sorry.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alyson.”

Good hell… beautiful name.

“I like that name,” Ryker said. “You really want to go on a date with me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe I just want the money,” Alyson said. “Not like it matters, right?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I was chosen.”

“And I get the final choice.”

Alyson swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry I spilled water on you.”

“I’m sure you are,” Ryker said.

“Do you want me to spill water on myself?” Alyson asked.

“You’d do that for me?”

“No. I’d do it for me. Because I’d spill a little and then drink the rest. I’m thirsty.”

Ryker grinned. He whistled for his guitar tech and threw his hand back in the motion of a drink. The guy hurried to get Ryker a bottle of water.

When Ryker gave it to Alyson, she blushed again.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No worries. Good luck out there.”

“Luck. Right.”

Alyson walked away. It finally gave Ryker a chance to look at her ass. It was exactly as he had imagined it. And, yes, he was jealous of her back pockets.

Alyson looked back and caught Ryker looking at her, but he didn’t care. He was here to play the part, right? Bad boy rockstar. Pick someone for a date. Become even richer.

The only thing though was when he looked up from Alyson’s ass and met her eyes, he suddenly preferred to stare into her eyes. Maybe she did belong there after all.

********

A blue light flashed with the thump of the bass drum. Colby ran off the side of the stage for water. Ryker stepped toward the front of the stage and put his foot up on a monitor. His guitar rang out with annoying feedback, so he slid his hand along the volume knob on the body of the guitar, killing it off.

He then lifted and lowered his arms, getting the large crowd into the beat. Van hit an open E note with each thud of Brantley’s drum. It made the sound louder and deeper, rumbling straight through Ryker’s body, right to his heart.

Down in front of him, front row, were the lucky ten women. Nine of them were dancing, heads going side to side, a drink in their hands, lifting it up, lost in the music. The tenth one… Alyson… she stood with her hands at her sides, her hips swaying to the music. She was definitely not a hardcore Willow Son fan like the others. This contest was supposed to be even. It was supposed to be dramatic. It was supposed to be a spectacle. The truth was that the only real spectacle of it all was the way Ryker couldn’t take his eyes off Alyson.

He gave a wave to all the women and they went crazy. Even Alyson this time. Clapping and cheering.

Colby ran to the mic, a bottle of water in his hand. “You ready to pack it up and go home yet?”

The crowd all agreed in unison that the concert was far from over, which was fine with Ryker and the rest of Willow Son. They still had songs to play. There were fifteen thousand people out there in the park, all wanting to hear music. The music Willow Son had created.

Colby looked at Ryker and nodded.

Slowly, Ryker walked toward the mic. He turned up his guitar, letting the feedback ring for a few seconds before hitting a chord. The thundering sound carried across the park and beyond.

“Hey!” Ryker yelled. “I know I’m supposed to pick one lucky woman for a date tonight… but right now… of all us… all together… this is our date.”

The crowd cheered. The feeling was electric as it shot through Ryker’s body.

“Get it, Brantley!” Colby yelled.

The drums stopped. The bass stopped. Ryker stopped playing guitar. A second later Brantley played a fast drum intro and the concert continued. The lights flashed different colors, the crowd jumping and dancing. Ryker went to the front of the stage again, shaking his head as he scanned the people. This was what it was all about. Right here, right on stage, giving back to everyone who gave him so much. It was very different from the little bars he had been playing, but the feeling was the damn same.

After four more songs, Ryker and Jett took the center of the stage by storm and played fast guitar solos, battling each other, letting the audience cheer them on. They then synced up on the same guitar solo, which was damn hard to do, but when done right, it sounded really wild. They finished the solo with the same chord and then bumped fists. They walked away from each other as Colby came forward, wearing an acoustic guitar. The set was then slowed down for two songs.

Ryker watched as the ten women were brought up to the side of the stage. They were given seats, right on stage, right near Ryker. As Ryker played a slow guitar solo to the ballad, he walked along the women, one hand out, touching hands with them all. He pointed next to Alyson and someone hurried to put a chair there for Ryker to sit in. He crashed, holding his guitar up and down, finishing up the solo. When he went back into the chord progression, he swayed left to right, bumping into Alyson… which made her bump into the next woman, and the next, and the next…

Soon all ten women and Ryker were moving back and forth. Colby sang, waving the crowd to join him. Ryker looked over at Alyson and grinned. He started to sing, losing himself in the moment. The fast songs were always fun. The spirit of rock n’ roll was always alive. But to slow a song down, strip it to its core and just have powerful words and good music, that was what could change the world.

Ryker stood up as the song finished. He faced all ten women and opened his arms. He winked, blew ten kisses, and backed away. He let the bad boy rockstar stuff ooze out of him. Everything to play the part. In the back of his mind, he thought about the acoustic album. The new album. If he had to act like a fool for one night and then one date, so be it.

The concert came to an end and Willow Son stood at the front of the stage to take a bow. They unloaded their guitar picks, bass picks, and drumsticks to the eager audience.

But the show was far from over. Harry and Portis lingered at the back of the stage. The same man and woman from before, still wearing headsets, rushed the stage. They quickly moved all the women to the middle of the stage. White lights shined down on them all as they sat there. Ryker was given his own chair, off to the side. The rest of Willow Son lingered, standing, looking like they were really admiring the silly scene.

A man came running out on the stage. It was one of the radio hosts from some station.

“Hey!” the guy cried out. “You know me. I’m Chris. And you know this guy…” He pointed at Ryker. “Give it up for Ryker from Willow Son!”

The people cheered.

Ryker waved, smiling, sweat still leaking from his body. He couldn’t believe how many people actually stayed for this thing. They actually gave a damn about this, beyond the free concert.

“Okay,” Chris said. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to play a game with Ryker. Then he’s going to choose one of these ten lucky women for a date!”

The crowd cheered.

“Imagine that. A wild date with a rockstar.”

Ryker gave a nod and pumped his fist. “I’m ready,” he yelled.

“Let’s get him a mic,” Chris said.

Someone hurried and gave Ryker his own mic.

“Hey,” Ryker said. He looked out to the crowd. “Did you all enjoy the show?”

It was explosive.

“Thank you for hanging with us tonight,” Ryker said. “And thank you to these ten beautiful women… for ruining my damn night.”

“Why’s that?” Chris asked.

“Let’s just put it this way… I don’t like to choose. I’m a rockstar. You know how it works. It’s all about excess.”

“Whoa. And what’s your version of excess, Ryker?”

“Simple. All ten women. One crazy date. Why choose? They’re too beautiful.”

The guys behind Ryker whistled and hooted. Ryker put his arms out and nodded his head.

“Well, you know the rules, Ryker,” Chris said.

Ryker put his hand out and the mic to his lips. He stared right at Alyson. “Fuck the rules.”

That got a rise out of everyone. All the women, even Alyson, applauded.

“I don’t think I can change the rules,” Chris said. “But I’ll keep it simple. These women were chosen for the chance of a lifetime. To win a date with Ryker from Willow Son. To go out, have dinner, have some drinks, and let whatever happens happen.” Chris wiped his forehead and grinned wide. “One night with a rockstar…”

The lights were bright on the stage. Chris introduced each of the women. Ryker didn’t even pay attention. He drank a beer and looked back at the rest of the band. They stood with smiles on their faces.

“Now, Ryker,” Chris said. “How about you tell us your perfect date?”

“My perfect date?”

“Yeah. What’s your plan?”

Ryker considered everything he could say. But he had to keep rockstar style. “Naked.”

The crowd laughed and cheered.

“What?” Ryker asked. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m not going to argue that,” Chris said. “But before the naked part.”

“Well, this is the before the naked part,” Ryker said. He then stood up. “Unless you all want me to get naked right now.”

Every woman on stage and in the crowd cheered.

Behind him, the rest of Willow Son boo’d and waved their hands no.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chris said. “Nobody is getting naked right now.”

The crowd boo’d.

“I know,” Chris said. “So Ryker plans on getting naked. Let’s ask some of our lucky women here what they’d like. How about… Tasha…”

A blondie with her hair pulled back, big blue eyes, and a low cut Willow Son tank top on grabbed the mic. She looked right at Ryker. He winked and blew a kiss.

Play the part, man. Play the damn part.

“My kind of date?” Tasha said. “I’m with Ryker. Naked!”

She bit the tip of her tongue and handed the mic back to Chris. Ryker applauded her, nodding. He wouldn’t mind seeing her naked. Hell, he wouldn’t mind seeing any of them naked.

Chris then put the mic right in front of Alyson. “How about you, Alyson? What’s your date like? And naked is no longer a choice!”

“Uh,” Alyson said. “Dinner… talking… maybe the rockstar could play me a song on his guitar?”

“What about a kiss goodnight?” Ryker asked, putting Alyson on the spot.

She licked her lips and said, “As long as we’re not naked.”

“Get her off the stage!” Ryker yelled and laughed.

Everyone clapped again.

The entire thing was getting really annoying now. Ryker made a fist, gritted his teeth, and looked over at Portis and Harry. Harry waved his hands - calm down, Ryker, stay with it. Portis gave two thumbs up.

After a few more meaningless questions - What’s your favorite Willow Son song? If Ryker didn’t pick you, which member of Willow Son would you want to date? - it became time for Ryker to make his decision. To pick one of the ten women to go out on a date with him.

He stood up and rubbed his chin.

There was a prerecorded drumroll playing in the background. A white light shined all around the stage. The moment was being built up with each second that passed. Ryker walked to where the drumkit was. He grabbed a guitar leaning against it and unplugged it. He slowly walked back to the women and stood there.

The decision had been obvious hours ago. Way too obvious.

Ryker held out his guitar and gave it to Alyson.

The crowd cheered like crazy.

Alyson looked shocked as hell.

All Ryker could do was grin.

(7)

Alyson hadn’t fully slept in two days. Standing on the stage, lights shining on her, Ryker with his arm around her, pictures being taken like crazy. It had been an intense few minutes. Then it all came to an end. Everyone was escorted off the stage. People were talking to Alyson, giving her all the legal garbage about the date and the money she had won.

By the time Alyson got home that night, it was almost one in the morning. Ashley wouldn’t stop talking about how lucky Alyson was. Not to mention Alyson’s phone blew up with people reaching out to her through social media, wanting to talk to her and interview her. People wanted her on radio shows, TV shows. Part of Alyson wondered if she should have some kind of agent or representative to handle all the press.

That quickly calmed though.

Except that tonight was the night.

The big night.

Tonight was the date.

Someone from Willow Son’s party had called to discuss the details with Alyson. A car would arrive around seven. Then they were going for a private dinner at a restaurant. After that, it was up to Ryker. Alyson had to go along with the date, no matter what. Of course, that only meant as in where Ryker wanted to go. Anything physical…

Ashley opened the bathroom door as Alyson stood in a towel.

“Wear this!” Ashley said.

Alyson grabbed the top of the towel to make sure it was secure. “I’m not wearing your clothes.”

“You have to,” Ashley said. “You have to wear something pretty. Like, you know, edgy.”

“I don’t have to do a thing,” Alyson said. “You signed me up for this and I actually won. I’m still processing it.”

“Just get me an autograph, please. Okay?”

“I already said I would ask him.”

“Ask him,” Ashley whispered. “You’re going to actually talk to him. Let him buy you dinner.”

“I think whoever is producing this is buying dinner. You realize this is far from an actual date, right?”

“What if he wants to kiss you?” Ashley asked.

“He’s not.”

“What if he does? And there’s cameras there. You’re going to be on camera, tongue humping the guitarist from Willow Son.”

“Tongue humping? Are you for real right now?”

“I am,” Ashley said. “Please, just live it out. Enjoy one night.”

Alyson opened her mouth to argue but then shut it. There was no arguing with Ashley right now. She had some kind of fantasy in her mind and it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

“I’m not wearing that,” Alyson said. “That looks like something you would wear under a dress.”

“This is a dress,” Ashley said. She touched it. “Hugs your hips. High on the legs. You have great legs, Aly. You know that. Women would kill for your legs. They’re tight and toned…”

“Stop,” Alyson said. “I’m fine with what I have in my closet.”

“Jeez. Okay. I warned you though.”

Alyson grabbed her hair and pulled it back. “Up or down?”

“Down,” Ashley said. “It’s sexier. Dirty. Like you’re going to get into bed with Ryker.”

“I’m putting it up,” Alyson said.

“Oh, so you’re going to go against everything I say?”

“Yes.”

“I hate you. Can’t I just pretend to be you?”

Alyson looked at Ashley. She was two inches taller than Alyson. She had bigger breasts, and was super thin, with blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. She screamed of typical pretty girl with a wild innocence.

Wiping the mirror, Alyson looked at herself. She was damn near the complete opposite of Ashley.

“I don’t think it’ll work. You look nothing like me.”

Ashley stepped next to Alyson. She crouched down a little and threw some of her hair over Alyson’s. “Look. You look hot as a blonde.”

“So hot,” Alyson said.

Ashley grabbed some of Alyson’s hair and put it over her head. “And look at me. With your brown hair. I could pull it off.”

“No,” Alyson said. “I’m going out with Ryker. Not you.”

“Bitch.”

“You shouldn’t have put my name in,” Alyson said. “Now get out so I can get dressed.”

Ashley pointed to Alyson’s clothes. “You’re wearing that? I thought that was what you just took off.”

“Come on, stop.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

Alyson shut the door and started to second guess everything. She groaned, mentally cursing Ashley for making her feel so weird. She then dropped the towel and put her hands to her hips. She looked down at herself. A tingling feeling went through her body. Heat rushed from her cheeks and went down. Her fingers moved to her stomach and then up. Somewhere in her mind she thought about Ryker. Spilling the water on him. Being pulled up on stage. Ryker actually choosing her for this date thing.

Biting her lip, Alyson wondered if any of it was actually real. Or if Ryker was just going to be reading from cue cards all night. Just to make him more popular and sell more albums.

That’s why Alyson had just grabbed jeans and a shirt for tonight. It probably meant nothing. More of a fantasy for her just because it was the whole famous person thing.

Five minutes to seven, there was a knock at the door. Ashley ran to the door and opened it. It was a guy wearing a suit. He had an earpiece. Behind him were two people, one with a camera, one with a clipboard.

“Hi, are you Alyson?” the clipboard guy asked.

“No,” Ashley said.

Alyson nudged Ashley out of the way. “I am. Hey.”

“Alyson. I’m Mark. I’m going to oversee everything tonight. Okay? I know you spoke to Peter and Jess on the phone. Just to keep everything clear… I’m going to need you to walk out of the apartment to the car. Ryker will then open the backdoor and step out. You two can greet however you want. I would prefer a kiss to his cheek, or yours. Something that suggests you’re close, excited, okay?”

Alyson nodded. She then looked back at Ashley. “Real date, huh?”

“Whoa,” Ashley whispered.

Mark touched his earpiece. “Yeah, she’s here. Uh-huh. Okay. Well tell him to be ready. Yeah. I know what Steve said. Steve’s an ass. I’m not talking about this now.” Mark hit his earpiece again. “Sorry, Alyson.”

“That’s fine,”Alyson said.

“So, you’re going to walk to the car and then get inside. There are no cameras in the car. When you get to the restaurant, just act casual.”

“I’m going to be on camera eating?” Alyson said.

“No. We will have pictures and little snippets. Nothing embarrassing though. I promise.” Mark eyed Alyson. “I’m assuming you’re ready?”

Alyson touched her shirt. “Yeah. Why?”

“See?” Ashley said. “Told you… you should have worn something else.”

Now Alyson felt two inches tall. She looked at Mark. “Should I… should I get changed?”

“No time now,” Mark said. “Okay, let’s get ready for this. Set this up. Uh, you” - Mark pointed at Ashley - “you need to go back inside the apartment. Kind of disappear.”

Ashley groaned and backed away.

Alyson was in the hallway, her hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll point to you,” Mark said. “Then it’s time to go. Don’t worry, if you trip and fall or something happens, we’ll take it again.”

“So this is a date?” Alyson asked.

“Sweetheart, this is a gig for me. Okay? It helps you. You’re famous for fifteen minutes so take advantage of it. Okay?”

Alyson sighed.

Everything she knew in life seemed to be fake. Right down to the first date she had in two months.

********

Ryker finished his drink. Someone was going to knock on the window when it was time to open the door and climb out. There was no reason to be nervous, and Ryker told himself he was just anxious. Mostly because this was the last part of this nonsense. At least he got to pick who wanted to go out on the date with. That was good. That was great. Hell, he was looking forward to meeting Alyson again. Part of Ryker knew it would have been easier to just pick one of those other women. Go on a date, look pretty, then turn the cameras off for a one night stand and get back to being a rockstar.

There was one thing about Ryker though… he never chose the easy path. And that sometimes meant not choosing the smart path either.

A knock at the window next to him sounded.

Ryker put his glass down and slid across the seat. He reached for the door and opened it. There were three people there with cameras. Snapping pictures, recording him getting out of the car. He looked over his shoulder and saw a bouquet of roses on the trunk of the car. He grabbed them and stood there, putting his right foot against the car. His head almost tilted to the side, as though he was annoyed by the whole thing, keeping the total bad boy rockstar thing going.

Then the door opened.

If it had been one of the other women, they would have come out dressed in something wild. Sleek, black, tight, showing off leg and cleavage.

Not Alyson though.

She came out and froze for a second. Her eyes went wide at her hesitation. She stared right at Ryker. With his free hand, he gave a quick wave, silently begging her to start walking. It had to look real, to look natural. If not, they’d probably make her do it again. Because that’s how real dates worked.

Alyson slowly moved forward. She wore jeans. There was a little cut in the jeans on her left thigh. A white faded spot on her left knee, the jeans were ready to give way and rip. That was the right way to wear ripped up jeans. Let it happen on its own.

Ryker had to peel the smile off his face and shake his head, wondering why the hell he even cared about the holes in her jeans.

Once close enough, Ryker plucked one of the roses from the dozen and handed it to her. “For you, Alyson.”

“What about the rest?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“You’ll have to earn those.”

Ryker inched to the side and pointed to the backseat.

As Alyson climbed in, Ryker looked at her ass again. Just as sexy as when she wore shorts. Only now he couldn’t see as much skin, which drove his mind wild. He may have been playing up the whole bad boy rockstar angle quite a bit, but Ryker knew exactly who he was and what he was doing.

Climbing into the car, he slammed the door. The backseat wasn’t nearly as big as that of a limo, but there was a black window divider between the front and back seats.

Ryker tossed the other eleven roses to the floor and shook his head.

“Not a roses guy?” Alyson asked.

He turned and looked at the woman. The car started moving.

“Your eyes are really beautiful,” Ryker said. He inched in a little. “I like that darker ring around them. Almost makes you look evil.”

He watched Alyson’s eyes widen as she shuddered. “Evil? Me? No.”

“I figured that much,” Ryker said. “Don’t mind the roses. Not my idea. Except just the one. That’s good enough.”

“Oh, it is?”

“You want to lug around a dozen roses all night?”

“Not really.”

“See? We’re meant for each other.”

“Take it easy, rockstar.”

Ryker slid a hand along the back of the seat. “That I won’t do.”

“There’s no cameras in here,” Alyson said.

“Exactly. Want to know a secret about me?”

“Sure.”

“I am everything you think and nothing they want me to be tonight.”

“Okay then,” Alyson said. “So you didn’t pick out the roses. But you did give me one. If they weren’t there, waiting, what would you have done to greet me?”

“You want the truth?”

“Yeah. I have nothing to lose in all this.”

Ryker leaned forward a little more. “A woman like you, I wouldn’t waste a second. I don’t have time to waste. It doesn’t take much to turn everything I have into nothing. So each second counts, darling.” Ryker put an inch between him and Alyson. “Alyson, it’s great to see you again. You look amazing.” Ryker killed the inch between them and kissed Alyson’s cheek.

His hand came forward and he gently touched her waist. He lingered with his cheek pressed to hers. His mouth near her ear. “Trust me, darling, I know this entire thing is all for show, but I chose you for a good reason. So try and ease yourself into tonight.”

Alyson nodded. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

Ryker moved back. He didn’t want to; Alyson smelled great. No fancy perfumes or anything like that. It didn’t surprise Ryker at all though. Never before had a woman so laid back grabbed his attention like this.

“I didn’t sign up for all this,” Alyson said.

“Oh?”

“It’s the truth. My roommate is in love with you. She put my name in the thing hoping I could switch places with her or whatever. She knows I needed the money anyway, but the chances of actually winning…”

“And it worked,” Ryker said. “How about that.”

“Yeah. Look at me. The most unflattering person on a date with a rockstar. You know all those other women were really big fans, right?”

“Yeah.”

“They were better equipped for this.”

“For what?”

“For you.”

Ryker smiled. “And how are you not equipped for me?”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“That’s a little blunt.”

“No,” Alyson said. “It’s me being honest. I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“Trust me, darling, I’m far from mad at you. Let’s get to dinner. Okay?”

Ryker sat, his arm still outstretched behind the seat. His fingertips gently touched Alyson’s shoulder. He felt her tighten up. She could play it off all she wanted, but she was nervous. And rightfully so.

This was new for Ryker.

He almost wanted this to go beyond the one date.

(8)

Ryker didn’t expect the small crowd of people outside the restaurant. He had been told that the restaurant was going to be shut down for him and Alyson. There wasn’t supposed to be any distractions. Stepping out of the car, Ryker had ten cell phones in his face, papers, markers, fans shouting his name. It took him back for a second. He spotted one of the producers for the entire thing and the guy was nodding, rolling his wrist as to say Come on, just keep going. Run with this.

Grabbing a marker, Ryker threw his arms up. “You’re fucking up my date!”

The fans cheered louder.

Ryker signed a handful of autographs, grabbed some phones and took pictures. He then stuck his hand into the car and felt Alyson grab it. A jolt of heat shot through his body. That actually surprised him.

As Alyson stepped out from the car, she looked terrified. She was definitely not prepared for this. It was a jarring thing to go through for the first time. To have complete strangers give a damn about you.

“Now,” Ryker called out, “if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”

“Alyson!” someone yelled.

“That’s her? Look at her!” someone else yelled.

Ryker slipped a hand to the small of her back. He leaned down and whispered, “Hey, trust me on this. Put a smile on your face and walk forward. Don’t let anyone bother you. They’re here to try and take this away from you. Don’t let them, darling.”

Moving forward, Ryker kept his hand at the small of Alyson’s back. He slapped hands with fans as men in deep red colored coats came from the restaurant to keep the crowd at bay and to escort them inside. At the doors, Ryker looked back. He saw a camera a few feet behind them and knew what he had to do.

His hand inched down and he gave Alyson a little pinch to the ass.

She jumped and yelped. She spun, her hand coming through the air. Ryker had been slapped hundreds of times in his life. Alyson’s hand cracked off his face, sending him stumbling. She turned to see the people yelling, cheering, cameras snapping pictures.

Then she bolted away from Ryker.

He stood, rubbing his cheek, grinning. This was actually fun.

Ryker opened the restaurant door and yelled, “I guess she doesn’t like pasta!”

That got everyone to laugh and got the entire scene to settle. The slap would definitely become a viral clip shown everywhere possible on the internet. Whether she realized it or not, Alyson was going to become famous because of it.

The owner of the restaurant, a guy named Jimmy, greeted Ryker. They shook hands, took a picture. Jimmy quickly began to tout his experience, traveling Europe for a decade, working in various restaurants with famous chefs, doing everything he could to bring back the best recipes possible. Jimmy sounded like more of a used car salesman, trying to pawn of a piece of shit car to make rent for the month. Then again, everyone had a hand in the game in this production. Having Ryker in the restaurant would make Jimmy popular.

Famous by association.

“Where’s your beautiful date?” Jimmy asked as he kissed his fingertips. He smiled wide showing off a super white set of teeth.

“Freshening up,” Ryker said.

Ryker walked through the empty restaurant as Jimmy kicked open the kitchen door. He started shouting orders.

Someone came up next to Ryker. “Okay, here’s what we’re doing now. We’ll set up cameras in the corners, okay? Just to capture anything that happens. We’ll keep sound at a minimum. So enjoy the conversation. It’s also not the worst thing if you push at her some more.”

Ryker turned and looked at the guy… what the hell was his name? Mark?

“Can you just screw off for five minutes?”

The guy froze. “Sure.”

Ryker found Alyson standing near the back of the restaurant at a window. She was hugging herself.

Stepping up next to her, Ryker slipped his fingers into his pockets. “What do you do for a living?”

“Why?”

“Because you have a wicked hand. I mean, I’ve been slapped a lot in my life.”

“Because you’re an asshole?”

“Yeah. Exactly. But that was a good one. I’m going to have a mark on my face.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

“Look, you know what this is, darling.”

“Don’t call me that. Let’s just eat dinner so I can go home.”

“Hey, that’s not why I chose you.”

Alyson looked at him. “Then why? Because I look different? Or I’m easy? Or what?”

“You caught my attention. That’s why. And I go for what I want.”

“Is this you trying to be romantic?”

“No. I’m just talking to you. I’m not going to apologize for grabbing your ass.”

“I bet you sold a ton more albums because of it.”

“That’s not why I did it.”

“Then why?”

“Because you have a nice ass, darling. And I do what I want, when I want. Cameras or not.” Ryker took a chance and put a hand to Alyson’s back. “Now, let’s grab a bite and finish this up.”

“Get the salmon,” Alyson said. “It’s fresh and the best you’ll ever have.”

“You heard Jimmy’s speech?”

Alyson shook her head.

“Oh?” Ryker asked.

“You asked where I work,” Alyson said. “Here, Ryker. This is where I work. I’m having a date with a rockstar in the restaurant I work.”

Alyson spun away from Ryker. He turned and watched her walk away. She was insanely sultry from behind, not even having to try to do so. Everything was natural but yet so damn interesting.

The table was all set for Ryker and Alyson. She was already seated, Jimmy at the table, shocked to see one of his waitresses as the one who won the contest.

“This one right here,” Jimmy said, touching Alyson’s shoulder. “She’s special. She’s smart. She’s getting her MBA. She’s going to own this restaurant and town someday!”

Ryker watched as Jimmy’s fat fingers dug and twisted at Alyson’s shoulder. A heat poured through his body, and it wasn’t the same kind as when he touched Alyson’s back. This was different. This was jealousy.

“Let me do the talking,” Ryker said. “I’ll ask Alyson questions.”

“Oh, but Ryker,” Jimmy said. “I know this is all… worked out… but she’s a really…”

Ryker could only see Jimmy’s fingers. He moved to the neck of Alyson’s shirt, touching her hair, her neck.

That was enough for Ryker.

He threw his hand forward and grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. He pulled his grip away from Alyson and then twisted hard. Jimmy’s knees buckled a little and he winced in pain. His eyes were big, white, his face red.

“I don’t think she wants you to touch her like that,” Ryker said. “Why don’t you just go get us two of the salmon dinners. Tout yourself to the fucking cameras and leave us alone.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimmy said. “Is this part of the show?”

“How do you think it’s going to feel when I shove my foot up your ass? Is that reality enough?”

Ryker broke his hold on Jimmy’s wrist. He then took his seat as Jimmy slipped away. He tried not to notice the cameras, but they were in all four corners of the restaurant.

“Does he always touch you like that?” Ryker asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alyson said. “It’s a part-time job. I wait on people to pay my bills, Ryker. It’s a far different life than yours.”

“No. I asked you something.”

“Jimmy is an emotional guy. He says it’s in his roots.”

“His roots?” Ryker felt his nostrils flaring. “I feel like pulling the plug on this thing right now. Just to fuck with him.”

Ryker turned and then felt something touch his hand. Alyson grabbed his hand with both her hands.

“Please. I’m begging you. Just don’t.”

Ryker looked at Alyson again. “Fine. For you, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Alyson tried to take her hand off Ryker’s and he put his hand on top of hers. He smiled. “For the cameras, darling. It’s going to drive them wild.”

“Yeah, okay. All for the cameras.”

“I want to know more about you,” Ryker said. “This process has been a little intense for me too. Just so you know.”

“Not used to going on dates?”

“Not like this kind.”

“What’s your kind? Me, naked, on a tour bus?”

“If you’re offering…”

Alyson pulled her hand away.

Ryker leaned forward. “Make the best of all this. You’ll get your money to pay for whatever. Then I get to fulfill a favor to the guy who has Willow Son signed. That’s how it all works.”

“If this is all a joke, Ryker, then why me?”

“Because I’m interested in you. So you work at a restaurant, have a MBA, and entered a contest to win cash and a date with me.”

“Corrections,” Alyson said. “I work here. I don’t have my MBA yet. I needed the cash, but my friend entered the contest for me.”

“What about me?” Ryker asked. “You have to admit this is crazy.”

“It’s something.”

“Tell you what, darling. I’ll let you ask me something. Anything you want. Just to cut the tension.”

“If you’re so rich and famous,” Alyson said, “then why do this? This seems so…” Alyson looked around and leaned in. “It’s stupid, Ryker. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. See, I got annoyed with the guys and I took off on my own for a little bit. All those videos of me playing the bars, I was alone because I left. We were on tour with an opening band that was a joke. The tour was doomed from day one. We finished the first leg, cut the rest off, and came back home. There’s nothing worse than feeling alone. So I hit the road to see the people. The fans. The ones who make me feel alive. I kind of screwed the band and pissed off the record company. So this is my attempt to make it all right again.”

“Wow,” Alyson said. “That’s a little heavy.”

“You wanted to know. But I have to make it all legit. Which means I have to be Ryker times two.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning grabbing your ass when the cameras are there. Meaning letting you slap me across the face because it makes good footage. And… well… this…”

Ryker leaned across the table and pressed his lips to Alyson’s.

He could feel the cameras burning at him. He could feel heat burning inside him. His next move was to touch her breast, try and do something to get her to throw a drink in his face. Or slap him again. But Ryker caught him touching her cheek with the back of his hand.

Then something surprising happened.

First, Alyson didn’t pull away.

Second, she put her hand to the back of his head and pulled at him.

She fucking wanted it.

********

What are you doing?

Alyson felt Ryker’s tongue touch hers. An inferno came to life within her core. A raging need overtook all her senses, making it almost impossible to get away. Ryker definitely knew how to kiss a woman the right way. Alyson dug her fingers at the back of his head for a second and then remembered the cameras. The date. The show, or whatever the hell this was.

She pulled away from the kiss, almost gasping to catch her breath. Her hands were shaking, her heart pounded. The entire room spun for a moment.

“Damn, darling,” Ryker whispered. “We need to pick that up later.”

Alyson shook her head. “No. No. I’m not… this was a really bad idea.”

“What was?”

“This entire thing. I’m going to kill my roommate for doing this.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ryker said.

Alyson stood up. She looked around the empty restaurant. She had been here just two nights ago, waiting on tables. Taking orders for wine, pasta, salmon, appetizers and desserts. And now she was here with the guitarist from Willow Son?

“I need the money but this is wrong.”

“Wait,” Ryker said, jumping up. “You won the contest already. It doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does. I feel like a whore. I’m not…”

Alyson tried to move and Ryker was right there, his hands at her waist. His touch sent pulses through Alyson’s body. They were far too close for comfort. Way too close for two strangers on a forced date that was being filmed.

“Hey,” Ryker said. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go. I’m done with this.”

“We didn’t get to eat. Or talk.”

“Like that really matters.”

“It does to me. I chose you, Aly.”

Aly.

There were only a handful of people that called her Aly. And Ryker was by far the hottest, sexiest person to call her that. Him saying it made her panties feel like they were going to melt off her body.

“Ryker, you don’t know a thing about me. Just finish this up and do your thing. Go be a rockstar and I’ll go be a broke waitress.”

Alyson was able to slip away. She walked toward the front of the restaurant and paused. There were people out there waiting. People with headsets and clipboards, again. Fans wanting to see Ryker again.

“Let me sneak you out back.”

Ryker was right behind her. She knew if she leaned back, just a little, she would be against his wide chest. Of course she wondered what that would feel like. Not only because he was a famous rockstar but because he was damn sexy.

“I’m sorry,” Alyson whispered. “We can sit down and eat.”

“No,” Ryker said. “If you’re uncomfortable…”

Alyson turned. “It’s all fake, right? So let’s keep being fake.”

Ryker opened his mouth to say something and Alyson didn’t want to hear it. No more cheap words, cheap touches. No more kisses either. Because they were hot and real. They were dangerous.

They returned to the table, where food waited. They ate mostly in silence. Two times one of the producers came to the table and gave suggestions on what to talk about. A guy actually looked at Alyson and slipped her a sheet of paper with questions.

What’s it like to be famous?

What was your favorite show?

Do you have a favorite Willow Son song?

It was like a cheat sheet on how to date Ryker. It was beyond ridiculous.

“Look, just ask me something else,” Ryker finally said after they finished eating.

“How was the salmon?”

“Amazing. Like you said. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Yeah, sure,” Alyson said. She let the sheet of questions fall to the floor. “Do you really want me to ask about the band?”

“You could.”

“Can I ask you to do something?”

“Sure.”

“My roommate…”

“The one in love with me?”

“Yeah. Her name is Ashley. She’s a big fan. She asked me for an autograph.”

“I can do that,” Ryker said. “Just as long as I get yours.”

“My autograph?”

“Yeah. You’re famous after this. You could throw your phone number under it too.”

“Please,” Alyson said.

“Hey, this is all bullshit. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you again.”

“Ryker, save yourself the trouble. You think I’m interesting? I’m not. I’m boring. I’m nothing like the people you get to met. Just please leave it at that.”

With that said, the date had officially ended. The last thing they needed to do was walk back to the car. That ended the cameras, the producers, the entire facade of it all.

Ryker kept his promise and gave Alyson an autograph for Ashley.

Someone then opened the door to the car to usher Alyson out.

“I meant everything I said,” Ryker said as he put a hand to Alyson’s. “I’m going to see you again. Don’t give me your number, that’s fine. But that won’t stop me.”

“Isn’t that creepy?”

“You tell me, darling.”

No, it’s not creepy. It’s kind of sexy, actually. Like really sexy.

“I feel like I should thank you for tonight, but it doesn’t really matter. It was all set up. A joke, really.”

“Not to me. I chose you for a reason.”

“You keep saying that. Just stop. I’ll see you on stage, I guess.”

“No you won’t,” Ryker said. “I’ll see you long before then.”

Ryker leaned in and Alyson pulled away. Not even a peck on the cheek was going to happen now.

Alyson moved from the car and was relieved to see the apartment. She didn’t look back, even once, and went straight inside.

Ashley popped up from the couch and looked at the clock on the cable box.

“What the hell?” she yelled. “It’s early.”

“It’s over,” Alyson said. “That’s how it works.”

“Wait. That’s it?”

“What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Ashley said. “More than that. You were gone for a little while.”

“Yeah. With fans asking for autographs, people taking my picture, cameras filming, and Ryker grabbing my ass and kissing me.”

Ashley’s jaw hit the floor. “He… touched you…?”

“Yeah. For the camera. To make himself look like a jerk. Oh, yeah, before I forget.” Alyson gave Ashley the autograph, signed on the back of a napkin from the car. “I had him sign something for you.”

“This is really Ryker’s?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. And you kissed him?”

“He kissed me,” Alyson said.

Like that mattered.

You were the one who pulled at him. You wanted more. You opened your mouth first. You let him…

Ashley grabbed Alyson by the cheeks and planted a big kiss on her.

“What the heck was that for?” Alyson asked, wiping her lips.

“You kissed Ryker. I kissed you. So it’s like I kissed him.”

“That’s dumb.”

Ashley admired the autograph. “So what happens now? I mean, are you going to go out again?”

“Ash, this wasn’t a real date,” Alyson said. “It was all staged, okay? I won a contest, won some money, ate dinner with Ryker. Mind you, at Jimmy’s Place.”

“No.”

“Yeah. So I got to eat dinner at the restaurant I work. How romantic.”

“But still. It was Ryker. He’s…”

“Yeah, he’s everything you fantasize about,” Alyson said. “I’m going to bed. I need this night over. I regret all this stuff. I’m pissed at you for signing me up for that contest. I’m pissed that I needed to win because of money. It’s all… just yucky.”

“Yucky?”

“That’s how I feel. My picture is everywhere now. This is probably going to end up costing me a job.”

“Or maybe it’ll help you,” Ashley said. “You never know. I wish you’d look at it differently. Hey, this is huge. You get to tell everyone for the rest of your life that you went on a date with the guitarist from Willow Son. And you kissed him.” Ashley grabbed Alyson’s shoulder. “Tongue or no tongue?”

“Which time?” Alyson asked with a grin. Red color flooded her face.

“No… way…”

“Goodnight,” Alyson said.

She shook Ashley away and rushed to her room. She had to lock the door to keep Ashley out.

An hour later she was in bed, waiting to see what would happen next. Yeah, part of her dreamed of Ryker finding her. Tracking down her phone number. Maybe actually going out on a date for real. Then again, Ryker had admitted it to her. He did the contest and date thing because he needed to for the band and for the record company.

Alyson shut her eyes and slept.

The next morning she woke up and went to the door to get the morning paper. It was there, as it always was.

But…

There was something else.

The rest of the roses from Ryker. Eleven of them. No note. Just the roses.

And just like that, Ryker found a way to make Alyson smile again.

(9)

Ryker sat on the back concrete step with a beer in his hand. There was something edgy and gritty about having the band in a garage, writing music. They wrote in the garage and took the music to the studio to record. It was hard for Ryker to play the songs he wrote and give them up to the band. Not that he was actually giving them up, but the idea of sharing them with the world seemed a little strange. They were just songs he wrote on his own about his own life.

The door opened and smacked Ryker in the back. He jumped forward and off the steps, dropping his bottle. It hit the ground and shattered.

“Aw, fuck,” Brantley said. “Sorry, man.”

“No worries. It was almost empty.”

“Here’s a fresh one,” Brantley said.

The drummer joined Ryker on the back steps. They twisted off their caps, tapped their bottles together, and then drank.

“I’m digging this thing,” Brantley said. “Playing guitar with you guys.”

“It’s fun.”

“Hey, can we throw drums on it?”

“It’s acoustic.”

“Drums are acoustic, man.”

“I never really envisioned the songs with drums.”

“That’s because you’re not a drummer. I have this rig set up where I can play drums and guitar at the same time.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You just take the bass drum and put it in front of you. Set up another pedal to hit a block or even a small snare with my other foot. I’m not talking big drums and fills and shit. Just something to carry the songs. Imagine the thumping behind the acoustic sound. It’s really awesome.”

“Okay, Brantley,” Ryker said. “We’ll try it.”

“I know this is your baby…”

“No, bro. This is our baby. It’s our album. It’s Willow Son. It’s not Ryker and Willow Son.”

“Fair enough.”

Brantley offered his bottle and Ryker tapped it again.

They drank again.

“Hey, that footage of that woman slapping you is priceless.”

“Yeah. I think my cheek still hurts.”

“She really got you.”

“To be fair, I really got her,” Ryker said. “I couldn’t help myself. I had to grab her ass.”

“That’s a dick move.”

“That’s what I was told to do.”

Ryker then frowned. The more he thought about it, the more he wished that whole thing could have been done differently. Maybe he should have just picked one of the women that wore Willow Son apparel. Then he could have swooped through the back door to get to Alyson. He could have had the date with one of the other women. Did all the camera stuff and gotten it out of the way. Harry - or someone - would have had all the information for the other women, including Alyson.

“Man, they really set all that stuff up, huh?” Brantley asked.

“It’s Portis. That’s how he does business. Sometimes I really think we should just go out on our own once and for all. We could make it happen. We have enough money.”

“Bro, the last thing I want to is become Portis. Let him do his job and we’ll do ours.”

“I know,” Ryker said. “I hope all the gimmick stuff is done. We can get down to business, like we’ve been. Really strip ourselves down with this acoustic stuff. Show the fans, show the world who we really are. That’s what I’m looking forward to.”

“So you like the drum idea?” Brantley asked.

“Of course I do. Anything that helps with the band and the sound.”

The door opened again and smacked both Ryker and Brantley in the back.

“Oh, hey,” Colby said. “Sorry about that.”

They moved and Colby joined them.

“Need a breather,” Colby said. “Too many cameras.”

“There’s three,” Brantley said.

“Three too many,” Colby said.

“Hey,” Ryker said. “At least it’s new music. And we’re going to hit up some bars, like the old days. That’s going to be amazing.”

“So,” Colby said, “what’s happening with your date woman?”

“Date woman?” Brantley asked, laughing.

“That whole thing…,” Ryker trailed off. He didn’t know what to say about it.

Truth was, he wanted to go after Alyson again. Show her a different side of himself, the real side of himself. Take away the cameras, fans, the rockstar status.

“The whole thing what?” Colby asked.

“Nothing,” Ryker said. “Just nothing. I had to do all that to get us here. Make up for leaving and get Portis to get off our ass a little.”

“How long are the cameras staying?” Brantley asked.

“Until we finish this song,” Colby said. “Then they’re leaving.”

“Then let’s go finish it,” Ryker said. “Brantley had a hell of an idea. But keep that under wraps until the cameras leave. Let’s go in there and finish it off. We’ve got the song almost ready. Run through it again and then record the demo version before we take it to the studio.”

“I like it,” Colby said. “My suggestion though? At the end, all of us come in on the chorus. The entire band. Not five layers of my voice either. Everyone and their own voice.”

“Let’s try it out,” Ryker said.

As Ryker turned, Colby reached for him. “Hey. There’s something we have to talk about.”

“What?” Ryker asked. He looked at Brantley, but Brantley shrugged his shoulders.

“Legal stuff,” Colby said. “Copyright…”

“For what?” Ryker asked.

“The songs. We have to discuss the credit. Copyright. It all plays into the royalty structure. I don’t want to run into problems with it in the future, you know? Stuff like that could kill a band. The drummer gets muscled down to five percent, the leader singer taking fifty percent…”

“Is that what you want?” Brantley asked Colby.

“Hell no,” Colby said. “But Harry mentioned something to me. We have to have a discussion before we sign papers.”

“Signing papers on our own songs,” Ryker said.

“We’re famous,” Brantley said.

“It’s all part of it,” Colby said. “We’ve been doing it for years. It’s just that… all this stuff is yours, Ryker. So we need to hash it all out.”

“Simple,” Ryker said.

“Yeah?” Brantley asked.

The door opened again. Out came Van and Jett. Now it had become an official Willow Son meeting.

“What’s going on out here?” Van asked.

“Doesn’t look so good,” Jett said.

“We’re talking copyright,” Ryker said.

“That sounds like a ton of fun,” Jett said.

“Trying to be fair,” Colby said. “The new songs are Ryker’s. Just want to make sure everyone else doesn’t throw a fit.”

“Are we hired help then?” Jett asked.

Ryker looked at Jett. They definitely knew how to throw jabs at each other.

Ryker hopped up on the step and stuck his fingers into his mouth and gave a quick whistle.

“Hey, remember me over here?” he asked. “Everyone look at me.”

The band did.

“Colby, shut the hell up for a minute, man.”

Everyone chuckled.

“Jett, you can go screw yourself.”

“What’s that on your face?” Jett asked. “Oh, that’s right, you got beat up by a girl.”

Ryker gritted his teeth. “Look. I had those songs as my own. I played them when I wanted. They were all inspired by life. The life I’ve been living with you guys. Writing music, touring the world, being famous, having heartache and heartbreak in the limelight. We’re working on this all together. We’re making this a Willow Son album. Not a Ryker solo album. It’s a fucking Willow Son album. And I’m not going to stand here and treat it any different. I put my ass on the line, looking like an idiot in front of cameras, so we could record this.”

“Which means?” Jett asked.

Ryker looked right at Jett. “There’s no copyright issues. There’s no royalty issue. We’re a five piece band. It’s always been equal. It always will be equal. Bottom line.”

“You sure?” Colby asked. “You deserve…”

Ryker stepped down. “No. The second we do that, the band will never be the same. We got together to write music. To jam out. To get free beer and women, right?”

Brantley nodded. “Hell yeah, man.”

“It’s always been the same way,” Ryker said. “I’m not changing a thing. You guys want to, go ahead and change whatever you want. This isn’t about money. We’re rich already. We could fall off the face of the earth and be comfortable until we die. This is about the music. The fans. There’s still a lot of stages we need to tackle.”

“That’s music to my ears,” Van said.

The door opened yet again.

It was Harry.

“We need you all,” Harry said. “Cameras want to leave soon.”

“Let them leave,” Colby said with a grin.

“Can’t do that,” Harry said. He stepped out of the garage and the band started to go in. When Ryker started to walk by, Harry put a hand out. He grabbed Ryker by the shirt. “Hey, we need to talk.”

“More copyright issues?” Ryker asked.

“Hardly. Family problems.”

“Family? Your family?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Yours.”

“My family? I have no family. My family is the band. Unless…”

“Yeah, unless,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, Ryker. I really am. He called. He’s looking for you.”

********

The cameras were gone. The guitars were packed up. The new song was finished, at least in the sense of making the cameras and Portis happy so they’d go the hell away. Brantley had set up his drum design and it actually brought the acoustic songs to an entirely new level. So much so that the band realized the acoustic songs now had the life needed to become radio hits.

There were shows being booked, easily. The hardest part of the smaller bars was the security aspect. How to keep the band safe. How to keep those in attendance safe. Plus, dealing with local police and rules to keep people out of the streets. It almost had the same feel to it right before Willow Son was signed to their big first contract. They used to sell out bars and clubs with ease. Fans would pile in and pile out of the building and down the block. They’d do anything to hear a Willow Son song live. Each show would bring lots of police, road closures, fines for the club owners, and even fines for the band. Hell, there was one time when the entire band did a one night stint in jail because they couldn’t pay a fine.

As exciting as it all was, Ryker sat on the floor, a guitar on its face next to him. He was in the dark, he was alone. Somewhere against the walls and in his memory were the echoing sounds of the music. The silence was always haunting.

Next to him was a fresh bottle of whiskey. The cap tight, seal unbroken. Ryker didn’t want to go down that road right now. Drinking lost its luster when heavy reality hit.

Yet Ryker thought about Alyson.

He thought about her jeans. Her ass. Her smile. He thought about pinching her ass, having her slap him. Sitting across from her, staring into her eyes, he could feel a sense of loneliness to her. And that was okay. It was okay to be alone. But it was even better to be wanted, wasn’t it?

Between his legs, on the floor, was Ryker’s cell phone.

He had a call to make.

Reaching to his right, he put two fingers to the lid of the whiskey bottle and leaned it back. He licked his bottom lip. He let it go and the bottle rocked back and forth, glass scraping the concrete floor.

There were no scars on the outside of Ryker’s body. No cuts, stabs, or any other marks. But inside, there was a rage that came and went. There were scars to his heart, his soul, scars that challenged all he knew.

The right thing would have been to just let Alyson go. She won the contest. She got her prize money. She got a date. She got flowers. She got her fifteen minutes of fame. It was done now.

Ryker shut his eyes and saw himself standing at the end of the table, touching Alyson’s waist. He saw himself turning her, putting her to the table, sitting her on it. Cupping her face. Bringing his lips to hers. Showing her what a man could do for her, to her. What she craved, what she deserved.

The right thing would have been to just let Alyson go.

Ryker grinned.

Ryker loved to be on the wrong side of right.

(10)

Alyson pulled her hair back, biting her bottom lip. On a good day, it only took one try to get all her hair pulled back. Today was a good day. She let the hair tie go and her hair was done. Her black shirt hugged her body tight, the way Jimmy liked it. The guys at the restaurant had to wear black buttoned down shirts. Some of the guys were dressed up way too much, almost in suits or tuxedos. The women were told to look nice, but it was good for tight shirts and pants. Apparently that helped to sell more food.

Outside the bathroom, Ashley sat at the table, her face way too close to her laptop.

“What are you doing?” Alyson asked. “Trying to burn your eyes out?”

“No. I’m watching some unreleased videos of Willow Son,” Ashley said. “Their new recording sessions. It’s pretty cool stuff. Want to see?”

Not really.

“Yeah, sure,” Alyson said.

She didn’t want to see it because she didn’t want to see Ryker. Then again, as much as she didn’t want to see Ryker, she did. And when she looked at the laptop screen, there he was. Leaning against a wall, a big guitar slung around his shoulder, a half smile on his face. He looked relaxed, happy, strumming the guitar.

That’s who he really was. Not the guy that was at the restaurant on that date. Maybe he showed a sliver of himself in the car at the end of the date, but by then it was already way too late for anything. The night, the date, it was all just made up.

“You’re staring at Ryker,” Ashley said. “Look at him. Leaning against the wall. Damn, he is fine.”

“Yeah, he definitely is,” Alyson admitted. “I won’t lie.”

“You should call him.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“I’m sure you could figure something out,” Ashley said. “You’re sort of famous.”

“Okay,” Alyson said. “I’m not famous at all. Not even close to it. Everything that happened is long forgotten. How do I know that? Because I’m dressed in this stupid tight shirt so I could be a waitress tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ashley said. “But, hey, your boobs look really good in that shirt.”

“I’ll take that as a plus then,” Alyson said.

Thirty minutes later she pulled into work. Once inside, she skirted her way through the kitchen, punched in, and went straight to work. The last thing she needed was any cat call nonsense from the guys in the kitchen.

The first table was an older couple, both dressed up, celebrating their forty-fifth wedding anniversary. They were nice and it helped Alyson settle in. The second and third tables were about the same. But as the restaurant started to fill up, Alyson got a strange feeling that everyone was looking at her. People staring, casually pointing, murmuring about her. At first, she blamed it on a sense of dumb paranoia. But then Jimmy came from the kitchen, like he normally did, to talk to the regulars and gossip with anyone who would give him ten seconds. That’s when Jimmy blatantly pointed right at Alyson.

That’s when paranoia became reality.

Her next table skipped ordering and went straight for the throat.

“You’re that girl from the show,” the young woman said. “The one with Ryker from Willow Son. I know it. Right?”

“Yes,” Alyson said. “That was me. I won…”

“What was that like? I saw him grab your ass. But I wouldn’t have slapped him. I would have jumped him.”

“Uh, yeah,” Alyson said. “Excuse me for a second, okay?”

Alyson backed away. One of the other waitresses saw her and said she’d take the table. As Alyson moved through the restaurant, hands started to grab at her. People wanted to know what happened with Ryker. People wanted to take their picture with her! Alyson politely declined but that didn’t stop people from holding up their cell phones and snapping pictures.

Alyson then started to hurry, wanting to get to the kitchen to catch her breath. As she moved, she looked back. There were at least a dozen people watching her. Four people had their phones out. A few others were saying something to each other, probably about Alyson and Ryker. With her head turned, Alyson felt herself crash into something. She heard the rattle of silverware, the thump of a glass spilling, and she put her hands out to brace herself. She turned her head and saw that her left hand was in a plate of someone’s spaghetti. A glass of red wine spilled all over someone. A man pushed back and jumped up, knocking his chair over.

When Alyson pulled away from the table, sauce and strings of pasta flew through the air.

That was cause for more pictures. More people staring, pointing, now even laughing.

“Our dinner!” the woman yelled. “My blouse!”

“Where’s the manager?” the man bellowed.

Alyson shook her hands and ran to the kitchen. She smacked the door, leaving a sauce handprint as though it were a bloody print.

She rushed to the sink and bumped the dishwasher out of the way. She grabbed the hose and sprayed her hands one at a time. Then she turned and put her hands to her face.

Holy shit, I’m sort of famous.

First I was the woman who went on a date with Ryker from Willow Son. Now I’m the woman who took out a table and stuck my hand in someone’s dinner.

Her face burned red. She blinked fast, not wanting to cry.

A few seconds later Jimmy came bursting into the kitchen. He was red faced, eyes ready to pop out of his skull. He pointed to Alyson and showed his teeth.

“Office,” he snapped. “Now!”

Alyson took the walk of shame to Jimmy’s basement office. It looked like an executive office with a long desk, big black chair, and a built in fish tank on the wall behind Jimmy.

He kicked at his chair and then stared at the fish tank.

“Jimmy,” Alyson said.

“No,” he said. “This is probably my fault. I paid for the sponsorship for the date thing. I wanted the attention. Didn’t know you were going to win it.”

“Neither did I,” Alyson said.

“You could have handled that better. You could have played into it for a second. Taken a picture. Answered a few questions. Goddammit.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Alyson said. “I was trying to do my job.”

Jimmy looked over his shoulder. “Now you made an ass of yourself. And me. Way to go.”

“Do you have to be so cruel?”

“Yeah, I do. Now I have a scene upstairs to deal with. And I’m short a waitress on a busy night.”

“Who called off?” Alyson asked.

“Christ, Alyson. You don’t get it.” Jimmy turned. “Go home. Take the hint. Go the hell home and stay there. Okay? I thought if you could come here and handle all this, you’d be good to go. Take it in stride, help with business. But you can’t handle it. You signed up for it.”

“No, I-”

Jimmy put a hand up. “You did. You won. And now you can take your rockstar money and go away.”

“For how long?” Alyson asked.

“Just go. Go out the back door and I’ll tell everyone you weren’t feeling well.”

Jimmy then slapped his hand on the desk.

It made Alyson jump. She sucked in a shaky breath and walked up the stairs. She slipped out the back door and got into her car. Driving away left her with an empty and lonely feeling.

Her hands gripped the wheel tight. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to slap Ashley across the face for making this happen. Oh, and she wanted to find Ryker and slap him again. For being a complete fake asshole. All that did was make Alyson look dumb and more of ten minute celebrity. As though she wanted to become this. Then again, she did want to win the money. She needed that money.

By the time Alyson got home, she had tears in her eyes. She slammed the car door shut as hard as she could. She then kicked the door for good measure. Pain shot through her ankle. She put her foot down and stumbled. She leaned against the hood of the car and took a deep breath.

She slapped the hood and groaned. “Why?”

“I take it this is my fault?”

Alyson yelled and jumped. She dropped her bag on the ground, spilling it everywhere. She hadn’t even realized a car had pulled up behind her at the apartment.

The driver was out of the car, leaning against it, arms crossed.

Cocky. Arrogant. A son of a bitch who thought he owned the world.

Yet he was drop dead sexy.

Alyson could only whisper one thing. His name.

“Ryker…”

********

“Want to go for a ride?” Ryker offered.

“Where?” Alyson asked. “Somewhere with cameras? So you can pinch my ass? Act like a dick?”

Ryker lowered his head for a second and nodded. “Yeah, I deserve all that. I made all that happen, darling. But you wanted it. You won the damn contest.”

“You chose me and then acted different because of cameras.”

“There’s no cameras right now,” Ryker said. “And I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that night. I left those roses at your door when I wanted to kick it down and fix the date.”

“Oh yeah?” Alyson asked. A surge of confidence went through her body. “And how would you do that?”

“Are you going to slap me again?” Ryker asked.

“I want to. Really bad.”

“Okay. I’ll take my chances then.”

Alyson stood, desperate to be defiant. She had already been weak and useless in front of all those patrons at the restaurant. Not to mention feeling like crap in front of Jimmy as he tore her apart.

Now she was squared off with Ryker. The guitarist from Willow Son.

He moved at her, his first step slow enough, but after that, it was no stopping him. His hands touched her waist and he pushed her back against her car. Alyson tried to gasp, in shock of what Ryker was doing. Her lips parted and then Ryker was there, right there, his mouth touching hers. Their lips came together, Ryker instantly controlling the kiss, hell, taking control of Alyson’s body.

As her knees started to give way, Ryker kept her steady. He kissed her again and again, his lips so sexy, so tasty, yet the kiss was somehow perfectly polite. Perfectly romantic. Alyson desperately ached for the kiss to get hotter. For Ryker to do more. Her body and mind battled each other at the expense of her heart as it raced inside her chest.

Then Ryker pulled back. His hands still at her waist, gripping tighter. Alyson felt her lips still puckered, wanting more.

“That’s what I wanted to do,” Ryker whispered. “Fuck the cameras. Everything else with it. I shouldn’t have picked you for that date.”

“What?”

“I should have done something different. But I couldn’t risk letting you just slip away. So… come for a ride with me?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Yes.”

Ryker lifted his left hand and touched Alyson’s cheek. His thumb stroked her, his eyes burned at her.

Holy shit…

Alyson wasn’t sure if she ever experienced that kind of look before in her life. Her lips quivered as much as her inner thighs trembled. Ryker knew how to cut straight to her core. He challenged without going after her. That was different to Alyson. And she liked it.

They were then in Ryker’s car, driving away.

“What happened at work?” Ryker asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Tell me it’s my fault.”

“Well, it kind of is. People were getting crazy because of me being there. Because of you.”

“Ah, shit.”

“I blame Jimmy though. He wanted me to be a puppet and I freaked out. I ended up in someone’s plate of spaghetti.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I fell into a table and my hand went right into it. I spilled wine, splashed sauce, threw noodles everywhere.”

Ryker reached for Alyson’s hand. He lifted it to his nose. “Garlic sauce. Not bad.”

“Stop,” Alyson said, fighting the urge to smile.

Ryker slipped the palm of his hand against Alyson’s. “I’m really sorry that happened. If I knew…”

Ryker didn’t finish. He shook his head, took his hand back, and kept driving.

“Where are we going?” Alyson asked.

“You’ll see, darling. Trust me.”

“Trust you. I know nothing about you. None of this is real.”

“That kiss felt real,” Ryker said.

Alyson felt heat spread across her face and down through her body. That was for damn sure. Yeah, they had kissed at the restaurant. And, yeah, Alyson had enjoyed that kiss. But Ryker putting her against her car and kissing, without his tongue, teasing and flirting with her lips for a few seconds… that was just insanely hot.

When Ryker finally stopped the car, they were off the main road, secluded.

“This is the kind of place were the bad guy takes the girl to kill her,” Alyson said.

“So, am I here to kill you?”

“I don’t know.”

Ryker opened the door and walked around the front of the car and opened the door for Alyson. He helped her out. His hand slid to the middle of her back and he pulled her close.

“You do trust me,” he whispered.

“I shouldn’t. But I guess I have nothing else to lose.”

“There’s always something to lose. You’re smart enough to know that.”

“I’m book smart, Ryker. Life always seems to win.”

“Why did you need that money so bad?”

Alyson swallowed hard. “That’s a little blunt.”

“I figure I don’t have much time with you right now. So I have to make the best of each second.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not done after tonight. I wasn’t done after the first night. If I wanted that whole thing to be a real stunt, I would have picked the woman with the biggest chest, lowest shirt, decked out in Willow Son stuff.”

“That doesn’t boost a woman’s confidence,” Alyson said.

“Oh? Yet you’re the one standing right here. In front of me. In my secret spot.”

“Secret spot?”

Ryker turned and took Alyson by the hand. They walked to the front of the car and Ryker pulled her next to him.

“What is this?” Alyson asked.

“Look up.”

“At?”

“The stars, darling. The stars. It’s a nice spot. Block the light from the city. So you could actually see the stars.”

Alyson looked up, straining her neck, following the clusters of stars. There were too many to count.

“I don’t know anything about them,” Ryker said. “I just come up here once in a while and chill.”

“How many women…” Alyson shook her head. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

Ryker turned and faced Alyson. “Hey. I’m here with you, right now. Nothing else should matter.” Slowly, Ryker reached up and touched Alyson’s cheek. “It’s just us. You want to see the real Ryker? This is me. I’m a guitarist in a band. I make a lot of money and play shows. For everything everyone thinks is bad about me, it’s not. I have the nerve to stand in front of thousands of people and put my heart out there. That’s what we do. That’s why I did what I did with the contest. Because now the fans get to see a stripped down version of Willow Son.”

Stripped down.

Alyson’s mind stirred up nothing good. But that was okay. It felt really good.

Alyson put her hands to Ryker’s sides. Her thumbs dug at his shirt, feeling muscle hidden beneath.

“I don’t know what to think right now,” Alyson whispered. “Whether you’re real or just trying to get something out of me.”

“Oh, darling, if I wanted something I’d just take it. I’m here because I want to be here. I want to know more about you. The smart woman finishing her MBA. The woman who joined a dumb reality show contest for some cash. It’s mind boggling. I’m addicted to the story I don’t know.” Ryker inched closer. “To the story you’re going to tell me.”

Ryker’s lips brushed Alyson’s. She put her hands to Ryker’s chest to keep just a little distance.

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything?”

“I like a challenge,” Ryker said. “And I’m not afraid to take a risk. You’re worth it.”

Alyson opened her mouth to fight back a little. She liked the flirting, the tension.

But Ryker made his move. His mouth came to hers and suddenly the flirting and tension took an easy backseat. Their tongues touched, a spark of heat jolting through Alyson’s body, making everything feel good. She kissed back at Ryker, an uncontrollable need starting to overwhelm her body and senses.

Ryker’s hands came down to just below her ass. He pulled at the back of her legs and Alyson couldn’t believe herself when she jumped up, wrapping her legs around Ryker. She told herself to just take the moment and nothing else. How many women would give anything to be in this position? And here was Ryker, kissing her! Ryker with his hands now at her ass! Better yet, here was Ryker, carrying her to the hood of the car. He touched her hips and eased her away from his body.

Their kiss broke for a second. Even in the night, their eyes were able to lock. Looking into Ryker’s eyes made everything shiver deep inside Alyson.

Ryker looked down and he touched her pants. She put her hands to the hood of the car, wondering if she should smack his hand away or just go with it. As she wondered what to do, she leaned back, giving herself to the guitarist. Her pants were open and Ryker touched her lower belly. His hand turned and pressed down, reaching the inside of the panties, following along the natural curve of her body.

When the tips of his fingers touched her silky core, Alyson thrust and scratched at the hood of the car. Her lips parted with a sigh and she leaned forward, wanting to kiss Ryker again. She kissed his cheek. She groaned as Ryker’s rockstar fingers made circles, massaging the wetness he had created.

Her head then fell back, her eyes gazing upon the stars. They were beautiful. But that lasted all of a second. Her body was completely tuned in with what Ryker was offering her. His fingers touched her center, pressing, beginning to penetrate her. Then with one wild thrust of his wrist, Ryker slipped two fingers into her. Alyson groaned and grabbed at his wrist. She squeezed tight and then looked at Ryker again.

What are you doing? Do you really want him to stop?

Alyson pulled at Ryker’s wrist as she sighed in relief. It just felt so good.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

“I don’t plan on it, darling,” Ryker said.

His lips grazed her neck, his tongue tasting her skin. Ryker moved up to her ear and exhaled a breath. Everything about Ryker oozed confidence and sex.

Gently, he thrust his fingers in and out of her. Alyson settled in with the motion, rocking her hips along with Ryker’s pleasure filled touch.

Ryker kissed back to her mouth.

Alyson put her hand between his legs, feeling an impossible bulge. Her hand shook as she started to squeeze at him.

“No, darling,” Ryker said, breaking their kiss. “Not tonight.”

“Ryker…”

“This is for you. I told you I’m here with you. For you, darling.”

Ryker pressed his body tight to Alyson’s. He thrust his fingers deeper into Alyson, twisting them, bringing a rush of pleasure. Alyson reached up and grabbed at Ryker’s shoulders. Ryker pressed his upper body to hers. There was only enough space between them to allow Ryker’s hand to move. It was so sexy and intense. The wild look in Ryker’s eyes, moonlight glaring off them, a deep, sensually pouring from him.

With a soft kiss, Ryker pulled away and whispered, “Come for me. Right now. I want to feel you come, Aly.”

Aly…

Just hearing it made her toes curl. She pulled at Ryker’s shoulders as the pleasure between her thighs started to run rampant. Ryker sped up, his fingers moving with ease, his thumb then grazing the soft nub of her clit.

As Alyson’s body moved, Ryker put his other hand to the small of her back and held her in place. He wasn’t going to let her move an inch away until she did what he wanted.

Come. Finish. Explode with pleasure.

Alyson felt a building in her lower belly, a fire that was lit, felt so good, her body quickly inching toward the cliff. When she fell, she fell hard. Her ankles pulled at the back of Ryker’s legs, an instinctive need to have him pump at her. Tear his jeans off. Grab him tight. Pull it to her body. Feel him enter her.

“Oh, Ryker,” Alyson purred as the rush of pleasure became climax.

Her hands touched his face as she came. Ryker stayed with her as she throbbed. Her brain teased at her, trying to figure out the last time she came like this, but it felt too good to experience this from Ryker than to worry about anything else.

Slowly, Ryker eased himself away from her. His hand moved along her smooth body back to her belly. She felt the moisture from Ryker’s fingers, from her body, and it turned her on all over again.

Ryker gently kissed her lips and put his forehead to hers.

“Let me take you out again,” Ryker whispered. “The right way, darling. Without the fanfare. Just you and me.”

Alyson caught herself nodding. She would have done anything Ryker wanted in that moment. The craziest part was that Alyson had been at work just a little while ago. She went from her hand in someone’s spaghetti plate to Ryker’s hand in her pants.

The entire ride back home, Alyson bit her bottom lip and fought the urge to smile.

Nothing could ruin this feeling.

That much was true.

Until Alyson got home… and found her drunk mother sitting at the door to her apartment.

(11)

The shower couldn’t get any colder. Yet Ryker stood there, the water pounding his body, fists against the wall, eyes shut, head back, waiting for the icy water to kill off the raging lust for Alyson that wouldn't calm down. He was hard as a rock and couldn’t ease himself. It wasn’t his typical style to just go after a woman like that without his own personal benefit. But the urge for himself had somehow taken a backseat for a little. All he wanted was to touch and explore Alyson’s body. Her needs, wants, her pleasure. Touch every curve of her body. Find out what made her jump, cry out; what she liked and what she wasn’t sure of.

Ryker pounded his fist against the wall and shut the water off.

He climbed from the shower and grabbed a towel. The thick cotton felt good against his body. He shivered a little and stared at himself in the mirror. They band had been put up in a nice hotel to play a shit bar tonight. Such an amazing thing to be part of.

Today, however, Ryker had two meetings. And he wasn’t sure which one he was more annoyed by.

Stepping from the bathroom, Ryker found a woman sitting on the corner of his bed. She was in a black skirt, and a black button down shirt with way too many buttons undone. Her black hair was pulled back, minus a few strands that hung forward. She took off a pair of black glasses and stared at Ryker with wide eyes.

“My birthday isn’t for a few months,” Ryker said.

“Neither is mine,” she said. “But… damn…”

She had a bag on the bed and opened it. She took out a notebook and a recorder. Attacking the notebook, she went to work.

Ryker crept forward and leaned down, grabbing the woman’s wrist. “You know, a simple hello would work here. Or maybe you just tell me who the hell you are and why you’re in my hotel room.”

The woman looked up at Ryker and then looked forward. Her eyes climbed down the rest of his body to the towel. Ryker knew he wasn’t completely calmed down yet from waking up thinking of Alyson.

But whatever.

He had nothing to hide.

“See something you like?” Ryker asked.

“Yeah, I actually do.” The woman stood up. She pressed her body to Ryker’s. “I’m Lacy. I’m here to interview you, Ryker.”

“You’re early.”

“No, I’m right on time. You’re late.” Lacy looked beyond Ryker. “Cold shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Long night of drinking?”

“Not quite,” Ryker said.

“Then what could make you take a cold shower?”

“That’s none of your damn business.”

“Let’s make it my business,” Lacy said.

Ryker smirked. Damn, if it had been not all that long ago, he’d have Lacy naked in about two minutes. He would have given her a hell of a story to tell. But her dark and lusty look did nothing for him. There were other things on his damn mind right now.

Slipping away, Ryker grabbed his bag and went back into the bathroom.

“You wouldn’t be the first naked man I’d ever seen,” Lacy called out.

Ryker looked back. “Good to know.”

He shut the door and locked it.

Once dressed, he found the bedroom empty.

Out in the main part of the hotel room, Lacy waited, two cups of coffee ready. Ryker settled up on a barstool and wrapped his hands around the cup.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Sure. Mind if I get started?”

“You already did.”

“I’ll leave that part out. That was for my own taking. The benefits of my job suck. So I make my own.”

Lacy was cute as hell. Ryker smiled. “What do you want to know about me?”

Lacy put the record on the counter and pressed a button. “He sits there, brooding over a steaming cup of coffee,” she said. “His eyes are dark but far from distant. Maybe he’s curing a hangover from the night before in typical Ryker and Willow Son style, but he’s not. There’s something else burning inside him. Maybe it’s a failed tour. Maybe it’s the dramatic past and present of himself and the other members of Willow Son. Maybe it’s the notion that the once big time, bad boy band now has to compete through reality shows.”

Ryker raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Lacy asked.

“By all means, keep going.”

Ryker sipped his coffee.

“Or is it the idea that Willow Son has reached their peak. Millions of albums sold, miles traveled, fans across the world. And then you ask, what’s next? What if there is nothing next? It’s just this. Just the present time. So what is it, Ryker?”

Slowly, Ryker reached forward and stopped the tape recorder. “You have a memory. Use it. Don’t record me.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m sitting here, thinking about the show tonight. We’ve always tried to do things differently and always for the fans. So to go back to playing bars… it’s like an homage to where we came from.”

“Partying in and out of bars.”

“It’s all we had at one point. Just the five of us, a van, and a stage.”

“You were homeless at one point, right?”

“Aren’t all rockstars?” Ryker asked. “You take that road for what it’s worth and see where it ends. We were lucky enough to end up on top.”

“Then you fell,” Lacy said. “Your lead singer got in trouble with a car accident. There were other issues. Drinking. Drugs. Vicious rumors. You almost lost everything.”

“Thankfully that was back before everything was put online.”

“I guess that worked in your favor.”

Ryker lifted his coffee mug. “Right now, we are focused on the music.”

“Then why the reality stuff?”

“Because it was fun.”

“Fun? Seriously?”

“Why do you think we did it?”

“You left the band. Why?”

“I didn’t leave the band. We came off tour and I wasn’t done. So I did my own thing.”

“By leaving.”

“By traveling.”

“Without the band.”

“On my own,” Ryker said. “No problems with the band. They were doing their own thing.”

“Right,” Lacy said. “So now you’re doing an acoustic album, documentary, and bar tour. How does that feel?”

“Raw,” Ryker said. “It’s going to be great.”

“I heard all those songs are yours.”

“They’re the band’s.”

“You wrote them.”

“The band perfected them,” Ryker said.

Lacy smirked. “You’re not going to give me anything good, are you?”

“Like what?”

“Tell me about the contest. The date. Why you chose Alyson.”

Ryker shook his head. “First off, do not print her name.”

“Why?”

“Just… don’t. It’s not fair to her.”

“She signed up. This is what you get when you put yourself out there.”

Ryker felt his nostrils flare.

Lacy was right. Sometimes when you put yourself out there, shit happened. And when it did, you couldn't do a damn thing about it.

“Don’t write her name,” Ryker said. “It was all fake, right?”

“So there’s no second date? No rockstar wedding?”

“No wedding, no,” Ryker said. “Can we talk about the music?”

“Everyone knows Willow Son is a great band. What about the guys behind the scenes?”

“You’re looking at it. I woke up, took a cold shower, and now I’m talking to you.”

“What’s next?”

“I’ll meet up with the band. We’ll work on some material…”

“Even when you’re traveling?”

“Of course. Technology. We bring recording equipment with us. We write riffs, ideas, whatever works. Then we take it back to the studio.”

“But you’re writing in a garage,” Lacy said.

“Recording in the studio.”

“So you’re going back to go forward?”

“Not really. We’re doing what we want. Just like we’ve always done. From the day Willow Son took a stage, it was our way.”

“That includes reality TV?”

Ryker smirked. “Look, you’re not going to get anything out of me about that. It was a fun time. A great concert for our fans. I should be the one pissed about it though.”

“Why?”

“Because I was only able to choose one woman.”

“So that’s who Ryker is? There’s no one woman for you?”

“Where is she?” Ryker asked.

He stood from the barstool and finished his coffee. He pointed to the clock.

“What?” Lacy asked.

“I have to go. I have another meeting.”

“Well, give me something. I mean…”

“Simple,” Ryker said. “Willow Son is still standing. We’re not going anywhere. We signed a new deal with a new record company. Was there a bump here and there? Yeah. No problem. It happens. Did we tour? Yeah. Did the tour end? Yeah. Would we have wanted the tour to go longer? Fuck yeah. But it didn’t. So now we’re taking the acoustic sound to the smaller venues. And it’s going to rock. Because that’s what we do.”

Ryker reached across the counter and stole Lacy’s pen from her hand.

“End of interview,” she whispered.

“Smart woman.”

“Since this has been so informal… can I ask something?”

“Go for it.”

“The woman you chose for the date. She didn’t fit the bill of the others. Was that staged?”

“No.”

“So you chose her.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I did.”