him with his daughter. I have no idea why I find his protectiveness and softness toward her so appealing. Probably something about daddy issues, but anyway.
He has this weird look on his face I can’t decipher. It’s part mocking, but it’s as if I can see the gears turning in his head. “How has your day been?” He glances around at the mess we’ve made.
Playing it cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.
“It’s been fun. We’ve done some reading, some singing …”
Ryder still looks … something. I don’t know if I’ve done something wrong. It doesn’t feel that way, but he doesn’t stop staring at me.
He puts Kaylee down. “Okay, little miss, how about you clean up in here. I need to talk to Lyric.”
Uh-oh.
I must have done something wrong.
“It feels like all I do is clean around here.” Kaylee pouts.
Ryder grabs his chest. “Oh, the pain of having to clean up after oneself. It hurts!”
“Not funny, Daddy.”
I want to laugh at them, but all I can do is think about whatever it is I could’ve done that Ryder wants to talk to me about. I mean, I guess bribing the kid into learning how to read isn’t how the books say you should get children to do stuff, but fuck that, bribery works. And how long was he standing there?
Maybe Ryder hates the music industry so much he’s taking a Footloose approach to his daughter and doesn’t want her singing and dancing. Though, if he hated it that much, he probably wouldn’t be producing music for Cash Me Outside.
I still can’t believe Cash Kingsley has been in this house.
“We won’t be long, bub.” He bops her on the nose the way he always does, and I follow him down the hall with my head held low.
“Is something wrong?” I ask as he gestures for me to take a seat.
“Yeah. A big something.”
I blink at him.
“You can sing.”
“I’m sor—” I blurt. “Wait, what?”
“When you told me you kept bombing auditions, I thought it might’ve been because you sucked, and then I didn’t want to ask to hear you sing because I didn’t want to be the one to have to point out you have no talent. No one likes being that person.”
“Uh, I’ve met with many label heads who would disagree with you on that, but thanks? I think. I mean, wow. Umm, yeah, I feel super great now that I know you thought I had to be bad at singing and that’s why I haven’t been picked up by a label.”
Ryder purses his lips. “That’s the thing. I don’t understand why you haven’t been picked up yet. What auditions are you going on?”
“Cattle calls, mostly.”
“No manager or booking agent?”
I shake my head.
Ryder leans back in his seat. “Just how bad are you at auditioning?”
I huff a humorless laugh. “I don’t know. The most feedback I’ve gotten was from my last one where they said I’d get a callback if I changed my image and only sang the songs they want me to.”
“What did you sing?”
“Imagine Dragons, ‘It’s Time.’”
Ryder screws up his face.
“Come on. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I mean … apart from it being a big ‘Fuck you’ by saying you won’t change who you are? Not only that, but when you sang that Frozen song, it at least showed off your range. If you really want your voice to shine, you need to sing something marketable that will showcase your amazing pipes. What did you wear?”
“What I usually wear.” I gesture to my tight jeans and white T-shirt under a black vest.
“Hmm. It’s too much. Lose the vest and you’re good. Plain clothes are best for auditions because they can then mold your image to suit your voice.”
Same shit, new person. “I’ve heard all that before, but I want to audition as me. I want to sing the types of songs I want to record, and I want to wear what I’m comfortable in.”
Ryder’s eyes lock on mine. “I want to help. Let me make some calls—”
“No. I don’t want it that way.”
“What way?”
“I appreciate you wanting to help, I really do. And I’m humbled that you see talent in me. The thing is, I need to do this on my own terms in my own time and as me. I’m after the right record contract, not just any deal that will make me famous. I won’t sell out.”
Ryder huffs. “Right. Like me. Because I’m just a guy from a boy band with lazy lyrics and cliché songs.”
I don’t