Page 91 of Living on the Edge

Ryleigh wants to spend the day at the festival since we have all access passes and she can create content for her channel, and I’m happy to tag along, watching her do her thing. With sunglasses on and my baseball cap pulled low on my forehead, I stay under the radar and it’s easy to let her take the lead.

She’s been quiet the last few days, but whenever I ask if she’s okay, she says she’s worried about how much longer she’s going to be on tour with us. Her boss doesn’t seem happy with her work, but I can’t figure out why.

My gut tells me there’s more to whatever’s going on, but there’s nothing I can do if she won’t open up.

We’re still new, getting a feel for the ins and outs of being together, so I understand that she isn’t ready to trust me with everything.

I also think she’s bummed that today is Kirsten’s last day on the tour. She’s heading home to Las Vegas to finish packing for college, and then she and Sydney will be flying to New York in a couple of days to get her settled.

Without Kirsten here, it’ll change the dynamic of the tour. And if Ryleigh has to leave too…well, I don’t even want to think about it. Unless she’s going to be embedded on another tour, there’s no reason she can’t stay here. With me. I haven’t had the nerve to bring that up yet, and I’m waiting for the right moment to talk to her about it.

I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.

I still haven’t called my grandfather either.

We’re throwing Kirsten a big send-off party tonight at the hotel, and I’m hoping that maybe after a few drinks I can get Jonny to talk to me. Or at least get him to listen. At some point, we have to address this monumental elephant in the room.

“Hey, did you hear the news?” Sam comes running over to me as we head down to the lobby to get on the bus.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Fucking Callum Yates,” he grunts.

“Now what?” I ask, knowing it can’t be good if Callum is involved.

“He just got us bumped from the eight o’clock slot down to the six o’clock.”

“What?” I stare at him.

“Karnal Death is replacing us at eight, and the band before us don’t know if they’ll land in time, so they can’t be moved, which means we drop to six.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shake my head.

The five and six o’clock slots are the worst because people tend to be hungry and take a break from listening to music while they wait for the headliners. Nobody’s Fool goes on at nine-thirty, so now it’s like Karnal Death is opening for them, instead of us.

“Sasha said she tried everything but the band at seven—it’s Wicked Lynk—is traveling back from Australia and coming straight to the festival. They don’t know if they can get here by six, so that’s how they rearranged everything.”

“Can I beat his ass?” I ask.

“Whose ass are we beating?” Mick and Jonny join us, and they collectively groan when we explain what’s going on.

“I hate those assholes,” Jonny grumbles. “Dammit.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it.” Sam, always the practical one, heads for the bus. “Let’s just make sure we put on the best possible show.”

“Hey, why don’t we ask Kirsten to join us?” I suggest. “We can have Ryleigh leak it on her channels that ‘she heard a rumor’ or something. I bet we fill the seats that way.”

“That’s a great idea!” Tate nods. “Where are the ladies, by the way?”

“Some kind of breakfast-themed hen party,” Sam says.

“There they come,” Mick says, waving as Ryleigh, Kirsten, Lexi, and Sydney get out of a taxi.

“Ryleigh, we need you!” Tate yells, laughing.

She comes over to us, and we quickly tell her our plan.

“I’m glad no one thought to askmeabout my part of the plan,” Kirsten says dryly, though the twinkle in her eyes tells us she’s not upset.

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