Rock All Night

4




I looked over expecting to see Killian Lee, the guitarist for the band – and was shocked instead to see a short, black, well-dressed man scowling in the elevator.

Wait – Killian Lee’s not black.

I knew that because of the story Derek had told so long ago in Ryan’s basement. Plus, I’d seen plenty of photos of the band since Killian joined. He was white, early 30’s, hair in a ponytail, always wearing John Lennon-style round sunglasses, always dressed in black.

This guy was really dark-skinned, with a long, ugly scar across his right cheek that was lighter than the rest of his face. He wasn’t shaved bald, but his hair was so closely cropped next to his head that he might as well have been. His angry eyes flitted back and forth like they were on a seek-and-destroy mission. He was dressed in a shark-skin suit, an electric blue tie, and a white shirt so crisp you could have cut yourself on the edges of the collar. He looked a little like Don Cheadle, if Don Cheadle were perpetually pissed-off and dressed like a gangster in a Guy Ritchie movie.

His accent wasn’t upper-class, that was for sure. He sounded Cockney… I guess. I’m basically only familiar with the posh accent that Ian McKellan and British royals have, and Audrey Hepburn’s Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. (I know there’s a whole spectrum in between, but, hey, I haven’t begun my world travels yet.) This guy fell a hell of a lot closer to Cockney.

I thought he was yelling at me. I didn’t know who he was, but I just assumed it was my fault. Maybe he was the publicist, I was supposed to meet him, and then I’d gotten waylaid by Derek instead.

I opened my mouth to say something –

But Derek beat me to it. “Meeting the press.”

The black guy’s eyes widened as he looked at me. The anger in his voice dialed back a notch as he asked, “Are you Kaitlyn Reynolds?”

It sounded more like Aw yew Kaitlyn Reynolds?

“Y-yes,” I said nervously.

The guy looked at Derek. “This is the one, then?”

“Yup,” Derek smiled. “In the flesh.”

I frowned and looked at Derek. “What does that mean?”

He gave me what I can only describe as an enigmatic smile. “You’ll see.”

The guy stuck out his hand to me aggressively, almost like he was going to attack me. “Miles Sumner. The band’s manager.” Miles Sum-nah. The band’s manage-uh.

“Oh… hi,” I said, and shook his hand.

Miles looked at Derek in disgust. “Christ, I tol’ you to lay off the drink.”

“You’re not my wet nurse, Miles,” Derek said in a bored voice, as though he’d heard all this a thousand times before.

“You need a f*ckin’ wet nurse, spoutin’ scotch out of ‘er tits, the way you drink,” Miles snarled.

“That’s Riley you’re thinking of.”

Riley… the drummer… the little punk-rock chick…

“Riley can handle her booze. You can’t, you stupid git.”

Riley can ‘andle ‘er booze. Yew can’t, yew stewpid git.

Then he turned to me. “I assume you’re comin’ up to meet the band?”

“Yes,” I nodded, a little afraid of getting him angry at me.

Too late, he already was.

He was probably born angry.

“Well, come on, then!” he snapped. “Get on the lift!”

I hurried into the elevator. Derek sauntered along behind me.

Miles hit the ‘Close’ button on the control panel once we were inside, then turned to me as soon as the door was shut and we were in motion.

Like he’d been waiting to get me trapped.

“There’s some ground rules, Ms. Reynolds.”

“Um… okay…” I said, though I looked at Derek as I said it.

Derek smiled indulgently. “It’s Miles’s world. We just play music in it.”

“An’ don’t you forget it,” Miles said, jabbing a stubby finger at Derek’s chest. Then he turned to me and stared me down. “First off, you f*ck with the band, you f*ck with me. And nobody f*cks with me.”

I looked at Derek with more than a little trepidation.

“Miles is like a Great White shark in a suit,” Derek explained. “Except he’s our Great White.”

“Not the band, I’m assuming,” I said, trying for a little joke about the 80’s metal group.

Derek caught it and grinned. “No. He’d have longer hair if that were the case.”

“A great BLACK shark, an’ don’t you forget it,” Miles said to me. “You f*ck with this band, I’ll bury you. You f*ck with their music? I’ll bury you. You f*ck with their schedule? I’ll – ”

“ – bury me. Got it.”

I was losing my fear of him with the constant repetition. I mean, he was almost a caricature, he was so ridiculously over the top.

But as soon as I talked back to him, his eyes narrowed into slits, and I could see the muscles in his jaws clench.

I looked over at Derek, who gave me a cool, slightly amused shake of his head like, That was not a very smart move.

The elevator came to a smooth halt and the door slid open. I moved to exit – to get anywhere, so long as it was away from Miles – but he shot out one hand and punched the ‘Open’ button and then held his arm there, blocking my path.

“You think I’m joking,” Miles said in a cold, controlled voice. “Do you think I’m joking?”

I was suddenly (and very unpleasantly) reminded of that scene in Goodfellas where Joe Pesci is terrorizing Ray Liotta – but in my head they all spoke with British accents now.

You think I’m funny? You think I’m a clown? Do I AMUSE you?

In the movie, it turns out Joe Pesci was just messing with Ray Liotta.

I didn’t think that was the case with Miles.

“N-No,” I stuttered, contrite as could be.

He edged his face closer to mine. “You must think I’m a joke.”

“No. God no.”

“Because I’ve got some rope and a shovel in the boot of my car, just waiting to be used.”

I said it without thinking:

“…boot?”

“British for trunk,” Derek said helpfully. I could tell he was getting a massive kick out of the whole scene.

“And if you f*ck with him, or any other member of the band, I will use that shovel and I will bury you,” Miles snarled. “Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I assured him. “Yes we are.”

Miles paused, glared at me for a moment – then nodded his head once. “Right.”

Then he walked out of the elevator.

“Holy shit,” I whispered under my breath.

“Way to make friends,” Derek joked.

“Is he your friend?” I asked in disbelief.

“More like a very useful enemy.”

“Where’d you dig him up?”

“ Killian brought him over from England to manage the band.”

“And you let him?”

“He may be an a*shole, but he’s damn good at what he does.”

“What’s that, scaring the shit out of everybody?”

Derek laughed. “That’s part of it. Come on, let’s go meet everybody else.”