People don’t meet like this. This isn’t how you make friends in this day and age. But it’s easy with Ryder.
In the short time we’ve been sitting here, it already doesn’t feel like I’m talking to the Ryder Kennedy from Eleven.
I’m sitting with an exhausted parent.
He still looks guilty over what he said.
“You’ve gotta cut yourself some slack. Parenting is hard. I’m only Chase’s uncle and it’s hard some days I have him.”
He relents. “You’re right.”
“For future reference, I’m always right. So, I get the job, then?”
Ryder scoffs. “There is no job, but if there was, you’d be the first one I call.”
“That doesn’t really help me out with my current situation.”
Ryder flattens his lips and looks confused. “If you want a connection at a label, you can just ask for it. You don’t need to pretend to be interested in being my kid’s nanny.”
Wow. Okay. Guess this isn’t going the way I thought it was. “You think this is a ruse to get industry connections?” I can’t say I blame him, but it kinda hurts. Though it’s not like he knows me. Clearly.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to strike up a conversation only to show their true colors.” Ryder shrugs. “I’m trying to cut out the middle part and get to the point.”
I’ve never tasted fame. Have never been anywhere near close to it. But the dejection in Ryder’s eyes is utterly heartbreaking.
What would it be like to live like that? Not knowing who’s in your life for you and who’s in it because they want something.
“You can keep your connections. I want to make it in this business on my own. I want my music career to be earned on merit, not who I know.”
“That’s admirable—really, it is—but it’s also a little naïve. The industry doesn’t work like that.”
“If I keep pushing and pay my dues, I’ll make it one day.”
I can tell Ryder wants to say more, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he glances out to the maze of tunnels and slides this place has. “Do you think they’re okay up there?”
He says his daughter drives him nuts, but it doesn’t take long for those fatherly instincts to kick in.
“Chase is a good kid. He’ll look out for her. Besides, I think Kaylee has proven she’ll scream if something’s wrong.”
Ryder smiles proudly. “Yeah, she will.”
Movement outside on the street catches my eye, and fuck …
“It wasn’t me. You’ve been with me the whole time, and the only time I touched my phone was to email you.”
Poor guy thinks I’m using him for a label contact, and now paparazzi are outside waiting for him.
Ryder looks confused until he turns. His skin turns ashen when he sees the cameras and two nosey paparazzi trying to see in here.
“One of the staff or someone else must’ve recognized you and tweeted about it or something.”
I feel guilty even though I didn’t do this. I did promise him no one else would find out, though. Not that I can control other people.
He’s out of his seat immediately. “Where’s Kaylee?”
“Let’s go find her.”
We both rush toward the steps to go back up into the tunnels when a loud laugh I know to be Chase’s comes from the slides. He pops out at the bottom, landing in a giant ball pit, and then a few seconds later, Kaylee shoots out the bottom of the second one.
“Over here,” I tell Ryder.
“Kaylee, sweetie, we have to go.” Ryder tries to hide his panicked tone but doesn’t completely pull it off.
I’ve craved fame ever since I could sing. I would kill to have those cameras out there looking for me. Maybe it’s because I have no plans to have kids of my own, but I’ve never thought about having to deal with paparazzi while trying to protect a child.
“I’m having fun!” she yells.
“I know, bub, but there are cameras here.”
She huffs. “Again?” She sounds exasperated and beyond her age. “Tell them to go away.”
“You know that’s not how it works.”
Uh-oh. I know that face. Her bottom lip droops, and water fills her eyes. I don’t know if Kaylee’s the type to throw tantrums or just have a cry, but if the paparazzi get that on camera, TMZ will report on Ryder’s parenting skills within the hour.
She’s still in the ball pit, so I go to the edge and kneel down to her level. “Kaylee, you and your daddy have to go, but I gave him my phone number, and if you ever want to play with Chase again, get your daddy to call me, okay?”
“Can I play with Chase?” she asks Ryder.
Ryder stares down at me with a frown marring his breathtakingly beautiful face. His lips look like they’ve had fillers, and his jawline is a work of art. All the Eleven guys are hot—there’s no doubt about that—but there’s something about Ryder that’s alluring.
He’s probably thinking I’m trying to use him again, but I’m trying to help him here.
“We can set up a playdate for another day,” Ryder says warily. “Right now, we need to go before any more cameras turn up.”
“Okaaaay.” The poor little thing sounds so dejected.
Ryder helps her get out of the ball pit. “Now, how to get out of here without them getting a usable picture.” He lifts her into his arms.
“Well, it’s you they want, so leave Kaylee with me while you bring your car around.”
There he goes, staring at me with mistrust again.
Although, I get it. Leaving your daughter with someone you don’t know is stupid even for a few minutes.
“Or if you don’t trust me with Kaylee, then Chase and I can go get your car for you. Risk a stolen car instead of a child.”
“It’s not that I—”
“I get it. I do. I’m just hoping it’s stranger danger more than me being gay.”
He looks confused at what I’m saying, but he can’t stand there and deny there’s a stigma about guys in general in the childcare industry. Gay guys are ridiculed and kept under a microscope even worse. It’s all bullshit, but you never know when you’re going to meet someone who thinks that way.
The things my brother’s colleagues and friends have said to him about having me look after Chase is enough to make me avoid socializing with them. Chord stands up for me, but there’s no teaching stupid, and I’d rather not deal with them.
“It’s definitely the ‘I don’t trust anyone around Kaylee’ thing. I don’t … there’s not … I’m cool with the gay thing. Trust me.” He hands me his key fob. “It’s the Tesla in the middle row.” He rattles off the license plate, and Chase and I head for the parking lot.
The paparazzi are forced to stay outside by law, but they’re growing in number. And when we walk past them, they don’t even blink.
Oh, the joys of being invisible.
Kind of ironic when all I want to do is stand out in a crowd.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Not that I don’t love my life. I just want more.