Page 73 of Living on the Edge

“That’s…some kind of breast cancer thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s the gene that works to prevent you from getting breast cancer. Except sometimes it’s broken, and that’s called a mutation. If you have that broken gene, your chances of getting breast, and sometimes other kinds, of cancer are exponentially higher.”

“And you have it?” I ask in surprise.

“My mom made me get tested when she was diagnosed. She died of breast cancer.”

“Oh, shit, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Look, at the end of the day, Rich and my dad were friends for decades. When Dad got his terminal diagnosis, he went to Rich and asked him to give me a shot. So this has all been a favor for a dying man. I don’t believe he wants me there, but I’m trying my best because I made my dad a promise. I see my doctor every six months, and we’ll talk about taking precautionary steps once I have insurance.”

“Precautionary. Like a mastectomy.”

She nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’m fine. My chances of getting cancer are higher than normal, but it’s not guaranteed, and we’re watching it. After I’m done with this tour, if I still don’t get a full-time position withRock Harder, I’m going to explore other options.”

“Fight for what you want,” I interrupt. “I mean it. You’ve done a hell of a job. But aren’t they paying you more now that you’re doing more than just album reviews?”

“Sure. If you can call it pay.”

“How much did you make for the Lexi story? Is it okay to ask?”

“Five hundred.”

My eyes widen. “That’s all? What the fuck, Ryleigh?”

“That’s actually high. Normally, I make a hundred bucks per album review, and I usually do two a month.”

I blink.

Peopleliveon that kind of money?

Okay, I know they do. Some people live on less. The guys in the band had all kinds of crazy jobs to make ends meet before we went on tour. Sam worked construction and was a substitute teacher, Mick worked in his father’s auto repair shop, and Jonny waited tables. The only one who supported himself with his music was Tate, who worked at a music store and gave private lessons. But they were in survival mode, willing to make that kind of sacrifice for the band.

I know it can be tough out there, but there’s something about Ryleigh that brings out a protective side of me. A side I don’t tap into very often. She’s young, just twenty-four, and from what I can tell, she’s alone in the world. I don’t know why I care so much, but I do.

“What about your influencer stuff?” I ask.

“Honestly, I’ve had to put it on the back burner while I’ve been on tour. Between interviews, attending all the live sound checks and live shows, writing a big article, traveling almost every day, and now being sick, I’m behind on new content.”

“Can I help?” The words pop out before I can stop them and I mentally grimace, wondering if I’ve just made a grave error.

“Well…” She gives me a look of frustration. “Ididask for your help.”

Oh, shit.

I forgot all about how she asked me to talk about how I do the water portion of my drum show.

And how badly I treated her.Again.

“You did. I’m sorry. You caught me at a bad moment. I was desperate to find Alden and get him out of there before anyone recognized him. I apologize for that. But I’d love to help you. What do you need?”

“I think my followers would really like seeing you…shirtless.” She pauses, smiling mischievously. “Giving some sort of drum demonstration. Like with the water.” She’s so hesitant, I realize she had no intention of ever asking for anything else that might help with content for Rockin’ with Ryleigh, even though she needs it.

Just like she wouldn’t ask for help when she was sick.

“I know what I look like without a shirt,” I say dryly, “and that women like it. Sex appeal is a huge part of rock and roll. Don’t worry—I don’t feel exploited.”

We both laugh, and she seems to visibly relax, a smile curving her lips.

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