I’m frozen in awe.
“Did I say something wrong? Do you have, like, a fandom kink or something? Want me to be all”—Lyric raises his voice to go high-pitched—“‘Ooh, Ryder Kennedy, I love Eleven, and you’re sooooo cute. Will you have my babies and marrrrry me? I’m wearing your shirt and everything!’ Does that do it for ya?”
I burst out laughing and climb off him to sit up properly.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He sits up too and looks at me with a concerned scrunch in his brow. “What happened just now?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I think the only other time someone has seen me as ‘just Ryder’ was when I was with Maggie. When …” I gesture with my hand for him to come to the conclusion himself.
“When Kaylee was …?”
“Yup. When Kaylee was made. Conceived? I don’t know, pick the most unromantic word you can find because that describes it to a tee.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
I huff. “You want to know the intimate details about me being with a woman?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I meant,” he says. “Give me exact body parts and recreate the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I think about it for a minute. It’s obviously not a story Maggie or I share with people. But for some reason, I want to pour my heart out to Lyric. I want to explain how one awkward night changed my life forever. “When it happened, I was home after an Eleven tour visiting my lovely homophobic parents in Texas.”
“Wait, you’re from Texas? Where’s your sexy Southern accent?”
“You think Eleven’s vocal coaches didn’t practically beat it out of me?” Vocal coaching is a real form of torture. It took months for me to lose my twang and about a year for me to stop naturally returning to it.
“Wow.” Lyric looks worried.
“Not that you’d let them anyway, but labels wouldn’t change your perfect California-boy accent.”
Lyric shakes his head. “Sorry. This industry stuff still surprises me when it shouldn’t. What’s wrong with a Southern accent? You’d think that would be cute and marketable.”
“In Nashville, maybe. Anyway, back in Texas, I wanted out of the house and away from Mom and Pop’s views on how the band’s stylists enjoyed making us all dress gay.”
“Wait, there’s a gay dress code? Is this why I can’t find a relationship? I dress wrong?”
“It’s exactly why. Didn’t you get the memo in the monthly newsletter?”
“Maybe I should check my spam folder.”
“Maybe. It’s kind of crazy how it all happened. The paparazzi hadn’t found me at home yet, so for the first time in a few years, I was free to leave the house and do what I wanted without anyone there telling me not to. It was way past dinnertime, and it was dark, but I wanted out. I walked to the local playground and saw a figure on the swings. I pulled my hood up, but she’d already spotted me. There was little Maggie Costa grinning at me. We’d gone to the same schools since first grade, and it was weird to go from my life of fame straight into the past.”
“Please tell me your daughter was conceived on a playground. That’s so dirty and cool.”
Yup. So romantic. “It would’ve made an awesome rom-com if not for one very glaringly obvious problem.”
“The fact you prefer dudes?”
“Exactly. She was the first woman I’d been with since Eleven’s first year on tour. Sex with women was always hit-or-miss for me. Should’ve been a big clue, right? It wasn’t until I started messing around with guys in the industry who I knew would be discreet that my sexuality started making sense. Even if I still don’t have a label for it, it makes sense to me.”
“That’s the only thing that matters,” Lyric says, and I can hear how genuine he is come through in his soft voice.
“Anyway, Maggie. She was visiting after a deployment. She’d lost someone close to her over there, so she was a mess, and we got to talking about our lives. She dumped her depressing shit on me. I told her she made me feel like a spoiled diva, then she said, ‘You’re still just Ryder to me.’ That was pretty much all it took.”
“Ooh, I’m putting this sex weapon in my back pocket for later.”
“Sex weapon?”
“Yeah, it’s like a magic word. Instead of Abracadabra, it’s Just Ryder.”
I wish I could say it doesn’t do anything for me when he’s mocking me, but I’d be lying.
Lyric chuckles. “I still can’t believe you got freaky on a playground. You’re lucky you weren’t arrested or that someone didn’t see it and sell photos to the tabloids.”
I lean back on the soft cushions and rest my head against the backrest of the couch. “Although, if that’d happened, it might’ve dispelled some rumors about my sexuality.”
“Pretty sure it only would’ve welcomed more. Ryder Kennedy, Sex Addict. I can see the headlines now.”
The buzzer for the front gate sounds, so I stand. “I would say you’re wrong, but that’s probably an accurate depiction of what it would’ve been like had we been caught.”
I collect the food from the front door and tip the guy generously. I’ve found most places are cool with the celebrity thing and don’t run their mouths if they’re paid well and know we’ll be repeat customers.
When I get back to the formal living room, Lyric’s sitting there with a contemplative stare.
“What’s up?” I lay the Styrofoam boxes from my favorite café out on the coffee table with two plates and sit on the floor.
Lyric stays on the couch still looking spaced-out.
“Lyric?”
He snaps out of whatever it is and sinks to the floor next to me. “We should play a game while we eat.”
“A game?”
“Yeah. All you have to do is say myth or fact to the following tabloid stories.”
“Here we go.”
We get comfortable, and I eat while Lyric starts with the questions.
He takes a bite of his sandwich and talks around the mouthful. “I know we’ve already covered this, but I really need to be sure. Did you actually die?”
I laugh hard. “I did. In a plane crash a few years ago. I’m either a ghost or your imagination. Pick one.”
“Has to be my hot as fuck imagination because no way are ghosts as attractive as you are.”
“Thank … you?”
Lyric ignores me and is ready for his next assault. “Umm, I already know the Kaylee rumor about her being a test tube baby isn’t true. Soooo, ooh, hashtag Ryley4Ever. Did you and Harley ever hook up?”
“I almost don’t want to deny this because the fandom behind that rumor is awesome. But it’s a myth. Harley and I are great friends and that’s all.”
I don’t miss the way Lyric lingers for more information about Harley and the rumors of his sexuality, and while it’s pretty well-known in Hollywood circles, it’s not my place to say more than that.
“Does your rider really have a sacrificial chicken slaughter before a performance?”