Page 50 of Rock & Roll Nights: The Lila and Rivers Edit
I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly, feeling my heart break and then mend itself together again.
And in that moment, I made up my mind. I didn’t know exactly what Lila was agreeing to, but I knew what my next steps were. She deserved everything. The fame, the fans, the contract. She deserved to be happy and successful. She deserved all the things she’d set out on this tour to find.
And I was going to make sure that happened.
Even if it meant I had to leave the picture, myself.
26
LILA
The venue that night was freaking amazing.
Look, I liked the small towns. I loved the little music halls and the random bars we’d been in at almost every place we stopped. I loved it even more when the audience was right there in front of the stage, able to interact with the bands as they played. Those were the sorts of places I’d played a million and one times back in Nashville, and though I wasn’t on the stage right now—this wasn’t, after all, a tour that actually featured me and Anna—I adored being in the audience for shows like that. You got to see the performers more closely, laugh with them when they messed up, and the whole thing was just...
So personal.
But tonight, we were in a bigger city and that meant a bigger venue. It meant a huge room with a bigger stage and—let’s face it—better soundproofing.
The first band, The Leathers, had played their loudest, most raucous music and wound the audience up with their sound, and by the time Global Authors got ready to go on stage, everyone was jumping and screaming and ready for some more rock and roll. Anna and I weren’t out there with the crowd,though. Instead, we were backstage, helping the stagehands move everything around and get the instruments and music equipment set up. I was rushing around with Molly, the girl who served as the Authors’ head roadie, responding to her shouted questions as quickly as I could.
“Where’s that fucking microphone Rivers likes so much?”
I rifled quickly through the sound equipment, knowing exactly which one she was talking about. For some reason, Rivers liked the oldest, most dilapidated microphone on tour, and we were always having to switch out the newer equipment to stuff that vibed with that old thing when he went onstage.
It was ridiculous and sort of hilarious and a running joke with the crew.
“No clue,” I said, coming to the end of the sound equipment and not finding it. “It’s not in here.”
“Shit,” she cussed, the word completely at odds with her wide-eyed, sleek-haired look. Then again, I’d known the girl long enough now to realize that though she might look innocent, she was anything but.
She was best friends with the band and evidently had been since they were kids. And she was the only one who could put them all in their place, no matter how ornery they were being. She was particularly good with the drummer, Noah, who was just as tough as he looked and smoked about thirteen packs of cigarettes a day. He seemed like the kind of guy who never, ever took advice from anyone and dared anyone to call him out on it.
Until Molly called him out on it. At which point he turned into a sulky little boy who’d do anything she told him to.
Which was, of course, hilarious.
She didn’t, though, have the same hold over Rivers, and I didn’t think she wanted to tell him that we didn’t have his microphone available.
“What’s the problem here?” another voice suddenly asked.
I turned and saw Taylor scooting through the backstage area, her hair coming down from her standard updo and her eyes bright and fiery.
“We can’t find Rivers’ microphone,” Molly said, hustling to another pile of stuff. “And we all know how he’s going to react to that.”
Taylor stared after Molly for a moment, her mouth open. “Then get him another one,” she said, acting like this was the simplest answer in the world. “Because they’re on in five minutes and we’ve got a very specific curfew tonight. We can’t push this show late. We don’t have time for Rivers to be spoiled.”
I opened my mouth to respond to that—he was one of the most popular people here, and surely we should go out of our way to make sure he had what he wanted when he was onstage—but then remembered the meeting I’d had with Taylor this morning.
She’d said she was done catering to him. Done with his shit. Because he was losing his value with his attitude.
She’d followed that up by telling me that it was my time to outshine him.
When she turned to me, her face lighting up like she’d just had the best idea in the world, I wanted to turn and run. I didn’t have to hear it to know that her bright idea was going to be something I didn’t necessarily like.
“You know what?” she snapped. “Screw that. Send him onstage with what we can find and tell him that he’s not going out there alone.”
“What?” Molly and I asked at the same time.
