“Of course. Why didn’t you say so?” Link exhaled, trying not to lose it.
“That’s all the guy said. I’m so stupid for listening to some idiotic Caster I don’t even know and thinking he would help.” She caught herself. “Even if he is John’s friend.” Right. It wasn’t that far off. There were lots of idiotic Casters she never should have listened to in her life.
Damn Casters.
And damn that one Mortal roadie. If she’d never met him, she would never have gotten into the game of Liar’s Trade that landed her in this mess in the first place.
Damn Mortals.
“So who is this Not Duane guy? Dark Caster?” Link sat down on the curb next to her.
“Probably.” She shrugged, improvising. “If he’s one of John’s friends. He didn’t have the Lightest childhood.”
“Come on. John never had any friends, Rid. We both know that. Who is this guy, really?”
“Well…” Ridley took a breath and looked up at Link. “He’s in a band.”
“What?” Link stiffened. There was no way Ridley could work the word band into any conversation without Link knowing she’d been up to something.
The band was his thing, not hers.
She had pretty much avoided all other music since she and Link had gotten together. Considering the kind of music Link’s bands played, it was better if she didn’t have anything else to compare it to.
Now everything came tumbling out. Everything, up to a point. “I don’t even remember his name. He’s in a band and I saw him play at Suffer.” After we broke up. After I ran out on you. After I went on a bender through half of Europe. After I lost everything at one bad game of Liar’s Trade.
“Go on.” Link looked even more suspicious. Another band was annoying enough. Another band from a Dark Caster club was worse.
The rest of Ridley’s defense came out in one long—and surprisingly partially true—monologue. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to fight about it, and because I knew you’d hate him if you associated him with our breakup.” (Sort of true.) “But that’s where we met and his band needs a drummer and otherwise they seemed pretty good.” (Also sort of true.) “And I told him I knew someone who would be perfect and now here we are.” She took another deep breath. “See? It’s all fine. Now let’s go find a puking clown.”
She tried to sound upbeat, but saying the words puking clown made her give up again.
“I can’t believe you.” Link stared at her, and not in a good way. Not in an I-love-this-Siren way. The bandage dress wasn’t even a factor in this conversation, which proved how badly it was going.
I’m off my game, Ridley thought. I should be able to swing this, but I’m not. What’s wrong with me?
“Which part can’t you believe?” She tried to remember which part was true, but it had gotten so convoluted that she was having trouble sorting it out for herself.
“Any of it. You knew I was comin’ here to break into the music scene. Then you sat in the car the whole way up here and never said one word about me auditionin’ for a band.”
“It’s not an audition. You’ve already got the job.” Which is the whole problem, she thought. Irony sucks.
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“They need a drummer. You’re a drummer. It’s math. You plus them equals band. Done. Can we go find the clown now?”
“Rid. Stop. This is a big deal to me. You don’t get to decide my whole future for me. That’s not how this is going to go down.”
“Why not?”
“It’s my dream. You have to stay out of it. I’m supposed to get there myself.”
“You are.”
“Yeah? How many lollipops did you have to suck to swing this one, Rid?” he asked.
The words stung. She looked away.
“Regular girlfriends don’t do things like that, Rid.”
“Then why don’t you go ahead and get yourself one of those?” Don’t snap, Rid. Back it down. “Because I was only trying to help.” Myself, she added, as badly as she felt about it.
He looked skeptical.
“Really, Link. I’m just trying to be honest with you.” Nice touch.
“Whatever.” He looked away, back in the direction of the graffiti-covered Duane Reade.
“Why don’t you ever believe me when I say I’m sorry?” Ridley attempted to appear sorry, but she was having trouble remembering how that particular expression looked. She went with sick instead, because she’d faked that one enough times growing up that it was almost second nature.
“Because you’re never sorry,” Link said, as if the thought had only just now come to him. “Because you never really believe there’s anything to be sorry for. This is all just a game to you. It’s never goin’ to be anythin’ more real than that. Not for Ridley Duchannes.”
Ridley knew what he was talking about. Earlier in the summer, when Link had confessed that he loved her, she had freaked out and bailed on him. Neither one of them had said a word about it since.
Sometimes real was too real, especially for Ridley.
“No. That’s not true,” she said, suddenly feeling sort of awful.
Link stood up. “I need to walk.”
“No, please don’t,” she said. “Link.”