Chapter 2

A week later, Ryan was pleased to be in a soft cast. Her ankle hurt far less and she was off her crutches, but she couldn't wait to be done with the whole damn thing. At least, she thought as she came in from work, she wasn't thinking about how it had happened every time she walked more than a block.

Just a few more days, she reminded herself as she stared at the contents of the fridge. She frowned; pickings were slim. She wondered if there was any mac'n'cheese. A knock on the door distracted her and she went over to answer it.

"Hey, Brody." She smiled. "Come on in."

"How are you? I almost didn't recognize you without the crutches."

"Oh, very funny." Ryan shook her head as he stepped in. "What brings you by?"

"Just thought I'd say hi. Got the night off."

"Nice. Good game last night."

Brody grinned. "You watched. You must like me."

"Don't get your hopes up, buddy. I caught the score and some highlights." And I will never live down checking the score on my computer at rehearsal, she thought, then relented. "Nice goal."

"Hey, Obie could set up a tree stump, but I'll take it."

"And so modest." Ryan laughed.

"Part of my charm." Brody looked around. "So, what's on tap for you tonight?"

"Not sure. I was just trying to decide on dinner."

Brody gave her a skeptical look. "Do you have any food in here? I mean, something not processed into a box or can?"

"I have..." She opened the refrigerator again and cocked her head. "Apples ... and leftover Thai. I think. I was considering mac'n'cheese. I haven't checked the freezer, though. There might be more there."

Brody rolled his eyes. "Jesus. Come on, Ryan. Let's go."

"Go where?" She closed the fridge.

"Back to my place. I'll make something."

"Brody, I can fend for myself. I'm a big girl, you know."

He looked on the verge of saying something, but shook his head. Ryan wondered what he'd been about to say, but didn't ask.

"I couldn't sleep tonight knowing you were going to eat 'Thai, I think.' Come with me, I'll make you some real food."

Ryan gave in and grabbed her phone and keys. Brody waited while she locked the door, then led the way down the hall to the elevator.

"So, how goes it with the band?"

"Good, thanks." Ryan was pleased he asked. "We've got shows at a couple of colleges coming up, and then we're headlining at the 9:30 Club."

"Really? That's awesome. I was there for a show last year. Which colleges?" He held the elevator door for her. "Maybe I can come."

"We have one in D.C., at George Washington, and another at Maryland. But don't you have a road trip coming up?"

He studied her as the elevator went to his floor. "Is that a hint I should stay home?"

"No, no." She looked up as she stepped off the elevator. "I just thought you'd be busy. Come and bring friends, we need the exposure."

"I could do that." They walked to his place and he unlocked the door and gestured for her to go in.

Ryan walked in and took stock. There was dark leather furniture—a couch, a couple of chairs—and a large flat-screen TV. Not much in the way of knick-knacks, but there were a couple of pictures on the wall, and she saw some books and smaller pictures on a shelf. The layout was similar to her place, but his was much neater.

"Nice place," she said.

Brody grinned. "You say that like you expected it not to be."

She laughed and shook her head. "I don't have much to compare to. My brothers are in college and in my experience, guys aren't the neatest housekeepers. I refuse to go to our bassist's place anymore, because you need a hazmat suit to use the bathroom."

Brody laughed. "I grew up in a messy house and I guess it shouldn't bother me, but it does. So I keep it neat." He went into the kitchen and Ryan followed.

She gave a low whistle as she looked around at the gadgets and appliances on the counter. "Wow. You really are serious about the cooking."

"You bet. But mostly it was good timing; they'd just re-done the kitchen in here when I was looking for a place. Couldn't pass up a new kitchen. Have a seat." He gestured towards the kitchen table. "How's your ankle?"

"A lot better, thanks." She sat with a sigh of relief. "Can't wait until this cast is off, though. I don't like hobbling around, and it's just plain old annoying."

"I know the feeling. I sprained my ankle last year and was out for four weeks." He opened the fridge, muttered to himself, then made a decision. "You good with pasta?"

"Love it."

"Cool." Brody took some vegetables and chicken out of the fridge. "Pasta's handy stuff. You should keep some around. I don't know how you survive without actual food in your place."

"Oh, funny. Do I look like I'm wasting away?"

He turned, took his time looking her over, and grinned. "No, you look just fine to me."

"Thanks."

"So, how big do you think the crowd will be at your shows?" Brody put some water on to boil, then started sorting through the vegetables.

"Not sure. We're trying to get the word out, and we've got some fans, and it'll be a Saturday, so that should help. We have web pages, and Lara updates them. And we're working on flyers."

"Here, eat this." He handed her a carrot.

She took it and laughed. "Brody, I actually do eat vegetables of my own free will."

"Humor me." He watched until she took a bite, then turned back to his preparations. "Let me know the dates and I'll see if anybody else on the team can come."

"That'd be great."

"Does your family come to your gigs?" When she didn't answer, he looked over and saw her frowning. He felt a little guilty. "Sorry. Sore spot?"

"A little." She shrugged. "My youngest brother, Evan, he comes sometimes. My parents don't come."

He glanced at her, then put some oil in a skillet. "Why not? You'd think they'd want to."

"You'd be wrong."

"Come on, it can't be that bad." He started slicing a zucchini.

"My family is obsessed with sports. Suffice to say that I haven't had a ton of support in my musical ambitions." Ryan studied the carrot before taking another bite and didn't look at him.

"Really? I mean, I know I only heard the one song, but it was great." He looked at her and then checked the water. "My parents would have been all over that. My mom plays the piano, and my dad plays the guitar."

"That's nice." Ryan was silent for a moment and then changed the subject. "So, what are you making over there?"

"Not sure yet. Some kind of pasta-veggie-chicken thing. With sauce. I'll call it chicken a là Lang."

She smiled, and Brody was glad she seemed to have cheered up. He remembered the call where he'd overheard her talking to her mom, and wondered about it. His parents had always supported him; sometimes it was hard to realize not everyone's parents reacted the same way to their kids' choices.

They chatted about Ryan's day job while he cooked, and when he brought the food to the table, she asked him if he minded all the traveling he did with the team.

"Not most times. I mean, there are times when you're just beat and the last thing you want to do is drag your ass onto a bus or a plane, but then you get over it." He handed her a glass of water and sat down, motioning her to take some food. "And it's not as bad as the minors, let me tell you."

"We've done a little traveling, the band, I mean. We lined up some dates and did a self-designed tour a couple of times. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to do any kind of extended tour, sponsored by someone." Ryan took a bite of chicken and vegetables. "Hey, this is great. Really."

"Thanks." He grinned. "See, I told you it'd be better than whatever you had."

"I like reheated Thai," she shot back, but laughed herself. "I do appreciate it. When did you have time to learn to cook?"

"Funny what you pick up in the off season." He sipped some water and then ate a few bites himself. "I have four brothers and sisters, so sometimes it was cook for yourself or take your chances on what someone else made. Then one summer my mom was sick and it seemed like I was the only one available, so I started cooking."

"What was the first meal you made on your own?"

"Waffles."

"Waffles?" She laughed. "Frozen waffles?"

He narrowed his eyes and pointed a fork at her. "I'll have you know those were made-from-scratch, cooked-on-an-iron waffles. We had eggs, flour and baking powder; it was waffles or pancakes. I'm a guy; I wanted to use the waffle iron."

"I'm jealous. We were always running around so much I didn't have a real waffle until I stayed at Lara's when I was about fourteen. Her mom made Belgian waffles, with fruit and whipped cream." She smiled at the memory. "Those were fantastic. I got her to teach me and tried to make them at home the next weekend, but it didn't work out."

"What was all the running around for?" Brody almost wished he hadn't said anything, as he could see the shadow pass over her face, although it lifted quickly.

"Sports. What else? My brothers did a lot of baseball and football; we had to travel to games as they got older." Ryan drank some water. "And if it wasn't that, it was going to pro games. Anyway." She cleared her throat. "I guess you learned to get beyond breakfast."

"Nothing like a house full of hungry people to make you expand your cooking horizons."

"So what do I owe you for this?" She waved her fork over the plate. "Not like I can reciprocate in kind."

"Well." Brody scooped some more pasta onto his plate. "How about the all-access backstage pass?" He got up and took the plates to the counter, waving off her offer of help. "I mean, I need the whole experience." He stopped and widened his eyes. "Hey, do you have groupies? Because that could be all kinds of fun."

Ryan couldn't help but smile and shake her head. "Groupies wouldn't fit in the backstage area. Trust me, the band barely fits."

"And another bubble bursts." Brody told Ryan to go into the living room while he dealt with the dishes, and she did. She indulged herself and curled into the overstuffed sofa.

"I could probably fall asleep on this in no time flat," she said when he came out.

"Don't do that. We're going to watch something."

"We are?"

"You bet. No big revenge stories, though. This is something different. The most basic competition—man versus man. Who's the fastest? Who's got the right strategy? Who will come out on top?"

"Um, Brody, I'm really not much on watching sports."

"Iron Chef is more than a sport."

"Iron Chef?" Ryan stared at him. "You want to watch a cooking show?"

He turned to her with mock indignation. "This is no mere 'cooking show.' Could you plan a four-course meal cold, with no previous knowledge of the main ingredient? In an hour?" He raised an eyebrow as he waited for her answer.

"No, I could not." She shook her head. "You win. But I bet they couldn't write a song."

"True, but that's not what it's about. So, what do I win? Oh, I know." He grinned. "That kiss."

Ryan laughed. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on. You must know the song, right? Love the one you're with?"

"Nice try, Brody." She shook her head, still laughing.

"All right, I'll let it slide tonight. But some day, Ryan, you're going to let me kiss you."

"You're confident, aren't you?"

"More of a positive thinker."

A few days later, Brody huffed out a breath as he dropped onto the bench in the dressing room. He grabbed some Gatorade and gulped it down, exchanging high-fives with his teammates as they filed past.

"Good job." Chuck Baxter clapped him on the shoulder as he dropped to the bench next to him. "Now we just have to do it all again next game."

"No problem." Brody grinned. "Give me ten minutes."

Baxter laughed and started unlacing his skates. "Ten? Come on, man, you're ten years younger than I am. You shouldn't need more than five."

They joked and horsed around for a few more minutes, then Brody took his turn at a shower, relishing the hot water that poured over his tired muscles. He was looking forward to some food, then maybe some time to unwind with a video game. He wondered if Ryan would be up, and if she'd eaten anything with any nutritional content.

It had been a good night, he decided. A win was never a bad thing, and he had two assists to add to his totals. He'd taken a couple of hard hits, and a slash on his arm that would leave a bruise, but it was worth it to gain the two standings points.

His thoughts wandered back to Ryan again. She was an odd one, but he liked her. Plus, he mused to himself, there was the kiss that she'd avoided so far. Now it was a challenge; a matter of principle.

"Come on, Langer, let's go grab a beer." Baxter looked over from buttoning his shirt. "It's early yet."

"Excellent idea. Since you came up with it, you can buy the first round."

Baxter rolled his eyes. "You are one cheap bastard, Lang."

Brody just laughed.

At the bar, they rehashed the game for a while before moving on.

"So, Bax." Brody tapped a finger on his beer bottle. "How supportive were your parents when you told them you wanted to play hockey?"

Baxter scoffed. "Are you kidding? I'm Canadian."

Brody laughed. "Right. What was I thinking?"

"Actually, my mom wasn't so enthused. I got a million lectures on how hard it was, how long I'd have to practice, how hard I'd have to work, how zillions of guys want to do that and don't make it."

"Typical mom stuff."

"Yeah, but you know." Baxter shrugged. "I got support with the lectures. She'd drive me to practice: 'Work hard, Chuck. You can do it.' She'd pick me up: 'It's a long shot, but not impossible.' All kinds of shit like that. She's a great mom."

"With me it was my dad who was the skeptical one. He kept telling me how slim my chances were and all that. Wanted me to have a back up in case it didn't work out, so I went to college." Brody grinned. "I started with an English major. You should have seen his face."

Baxter laughed. "I bet."

"But they were supportive, right?" Brody studied his beer, then looked at his friend. "Never ... I don't know ... never made you feel bad about it?"

"What's wrong with you? You never get maudlin over beer." Baxter narrowed his eyes.

"No, no. I was just talking to someone and it got me thinking."

"I thought I smelled something burning."

Brody rolled his eyes.

"Come on, out with it." Bax took another swallow and waited.

"All right, all right. It's a neighbor of mine. She loves music and wants to be a musician, but she said her family gives her a hard time. They're sports fanatics. It just got me to wondering if I'd be playing here if I hadn't gotten the support from my family. I mean, none of us ever questioned that. Mom and Dad were great about helping us do what we wanted. It must be weird not to have that."

"Well, yeah, not everybody does. But people manage anyway. Can't make everyone happy."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil."

"It's true." Baxter shrugged. "My sister's friend wanted to be a hairdresser. Her parents thought it was a waste and tried to talk her out of it. She did it anyway, and now she owns her own salon and she's happy. You want to be happy, you can't care what other people think. Christ, where would we be if we hung on every sports column out there?"

"Good point. Still, it's a lot to do on your own."

"If she wants it, she'll do whatever she needs to, family or not."

"How's your family, anyway?"

"Good." Bax smiled, which emphasized the scar near the right corner of his mouth. "Adam is acing science, and Tara scored a goal in her last hockey game. She'll be the next Cammi Granato, you watch."

"I don't know how you do it." Brody shook his head. Bax had come to the team the year before in a trade with the Boston Bruins, and his wife and two kids were still in the Boston area.

Bax took a pull on his beer, then shrugged. "You just do it. It's not ideal, but it was best for the kids. I feel bad; it puts a lot on Doreen's shoulders, but we both agreed. The kids were comfortable up there, and we didn't want to uproot them. Tough enough being a teenager, I remember. They'd have been miserable having to change schools and all that."

"Yeah, I get it." Brody took a swig of his own beer, tapped the bottle on the table. "Make sense, but ... I don't know. Don't think I'd like it."

"Didn't say I liked it," his teammate pointed out. "I said we agreed it was best for the kids."

Brody nodded but said nothing. He'd watched a number of his siblings and cousins marry and start families young; many times too young in his opinion, and along with the weddings, he'd seen a fair number of divorces. That, he'd long ago decided, was something he could do without.

"I think I'll just wait," Brody said. Baxter raised an eyebrow, amused. "I'm in no hurry for the house, kids, and picket fence."

Bax chuckled. "That's what they all say, until they meet someone. Like you and your musician."

"You're way off base on that one," Brody informed him. "She's nice, and it's cool she's in a band, but neither of us is looking for anything."

"Neither was I when I met Doreen."

"Yeah, well." Brody shrugged, then grinned. "Guess I just have more willpower than you."

Bax guffawed. "That's what I said. Then I asked her to marry me. Jesus, Langer, you sound just like I did. You're sunk."

Brody just shook his head and smiled as he finished his beer.

Ryan stifled a grin as Lara regarded her with exasperation.

"You're not going to tell me anything?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh, come on." Lara threw up her hands. "I swear, you're doing this just to aggravate me."

Ryan couldn't hide a laugh. "You're right. It's much more fun to string you along over any potential love life I might have than to actually have one." She leaned back in her chair.

"So there's potential!" Lara's eyes gleamed.

Ryan berated herself for bringing the subject up during a rehearsal. Well, Lara had brought it up, she thought, but Ryan should have ended it as soon as possible. Luckily the guys were chatting amongst themselves as Nate changed a string on his bass.

"Come on, Ryan. I can tell there's more." Lara crossed her arms.

Ryan dropped her head. She needed to say something or there'd be no peace, not to mention no rehearsal.

"Look, I haven't seen him for a while. There's nothing to say." Lara gave her a skeptical look and Ryan tried to move things along. "I've talked to him a few times; he's been busy with road games, and I've been busy with, what was it? Oh, yeah, the band." She arched an eyebrow at Lara.

Lara was about to say something when Nate said he'd finished with the string. Lara sent her a look that said they'd talk later, and at least, Ryan thought, that gave her time to prepare. Not that preparation would necessarily help; Lara could be relentless.

"Great," said Ryan. "Let's run through the song." She nodded at Mitch, who counted them in and she hit the first notes. Ryan bit her lip as she kept half an eye on Jason; he had a tendency to improvise additions to maximize his parts, which annoyed the rest of them since they'd been playing some of the songs for over three years and had them down cold. This one was newer, but Ryan thought it could be one of their best.

Ryan told herself to relax as she played; to not get upset until and unless anything happened. That lasted about thirty seconds, as Jason started early and trampled on her keyboard intro by soloing over top of it. She stopped and counted to five before saying anything.

"Jason, what the hell are you doing?"

"What? It sounds better this way." He looked over at Nate, then Mitch, and at last Lara, but got bland, blank expressions in return.

Ryan glared at him but Lara spoke first. "Not this time, Jason. Just play it like we wrote it, please. Okay, let's take it from the top." She looked at Ryan, who nodded and let out a slow breath.

Mitch did the four-count again and Ryan began, watching Jason the whole time. He joined in on time, but then ran over Lara's vocals, and they stopped again. Ryan wondered if he'd done it out of spite that time.

"Jason!"

Jason glared at her. "What? I wasn't finished the solo. You can't run through the progression once more while I finish?

"This song doesn't revolve around your damn solo. This is not the time to fuck around with the songs. You know it; play it." Ryan stared at Jason until he looked to Nate and Mitch for support. When he didn't find any, he glared at the floor and sulked.

"All right." Lara looked over at Mitch. "One more time."

He nodded and they went again. Ryan made herself focus on her hands so that she wouldn't distract herself trying to make sure that Jason didn't pull any more tricks. He played it straight all the way through, and Ryan was relieved when it was over.

"Okay, pretty good." Lara looked at the others, then exchanged a nod with Ryan. "If we can do it that way, I think it'll be great." Her eyes settled on Jason at the end.

"Absolutely. We should put it in the list for the 9:30 Club," Mitch said. He tapped a stick on his leg.

"Speaking of which." Lara dug out her phone. "Can we take care of some business before the next song?" Everyone nodded and she tapped at the screen. "First off, I want to put up a new song on Facebook and MySpace. I was thinking 'Roam Around, ' but if we can clean this one up, we could use that."

"Either's good with me," said Ryan, and Nate and Mitch seconded the idea.

"I think we should go with 'On the Far Road, '" said Jason.

Ryan all but bit her tongue in an effort to keep her temper. "On the Far Road" was not their best song, but it did have the guitar front and center. "Roam Around" was far better, and the song they'd just finished, "Skyline," could be a close second. Neither of those, however, spotlighted the guitar.

Nate spoke up. "'Far Road' isn't ready, Jason. We agreed on that last time."

"It's Facebook, it doesn't have to be perfect. It's a good song." When no one spoke up to support him, he scowled and shrugged. "Whatever."

Lara took a deep breath. "Moving on. I don't think it's too early to start making flyers to put up about our gig at the 9:30 Club. Plus we have GW in two weeks and University of Maryland the week after. Those would be excellent places to hand out flyers."

"How about songs?" Nate asked. "Maybe we could put another one up before each of the college gigs."

"Sounds good to me." Mitch nodded. "I can help put some flyers up. We should put some up near Adams Morgan and areas like that. We don't usually hit those."

"Cool." Lara nodded and her thumbs flew over the tiny keypad. "Okay, I'm still working on our website, the one with our own domain name; Facebook is good, but MySpace is kind of worthless. I think we can have some fun with this. Maybe we can take turns blogging or something like that. Trout said he'll help."

Ryan murmured her agreement as the guys nodded. Trout may have had an odd name, but the man knew his way around websites.

"Great. Let's get back to work." Lara slid the phone in her purse and settled back on her stool.

For the next couple of hours, Jason didn't make any more trouble, but neither did he hide his dissatisfaction. Ryan couldn't recall the last time rehearsal had seemed so much like work. When they were done, they ordered pizza and talked over the "big gig," as they had come to think of it.

"We should try mixing up the order." Mitch reached for his first slice. "I think we're all getting tired of that, and we know the songs inside out."

Ryan pulled a pizza box over to her and Lara; she knew from experience that otherwise they'd be lucky to get a slice each, the way the guys went at it.

"Good idea." Ryan debated pepperoni versus sausage and went with the former. "Let's figure it out and we'll have the GW and Maryland dates to experiment." She grinned. "We should be all set to rock the 9:30 Club. Good work, Lara."

"Absolutely. It's going to be so awesome," Nate chimed in. "I'm really psyched about it."

"Thanks." Lara beamed. It had taken weeks to get the date.

"Too bad you didn't get an earlier date." Jason took a swig of Coke.

Ryan saw Lara's expression darken a bit. Her friend didn't get angry often, but Jason was good at pushing buttons.

"It was the first open date I could get, and we should take advantage of the lead time to maximize the exposure," Lara said.

Jason grunted and went back to his pizza.

"Jason was a piece of work, wasn't he?" Lara shook her head as she drove them home.

"He was." Ryan paused, trying to get a sense of Lara's mood. "No worse than usual, I guess, but he does get under my skin. I think he does it on purpose."

"Yeah. God." Lara smacked the steering wheel. "'Too bad you didn't get an earlier date?' Next time he can plan the damn gigs. I don't see him offering to help. He won't even put up any flyers!" She shook her head. "Nate did I don't know how many blocks last time, and Jason couldn't be bothered to put them up on his own street. Putz."

Ryan gave a short laugh. "True. You know, I was thinking, Lara. We agreed to six months, but I don't think it's going to work."

"We should keep our word, and we can't afford to lose him now. Let's see how the gigs go."

"I feel so stupid." Ryan shook her head. "Like I should have seen it, you know? But he was Nate's friend, and he seemed so enthusiastic when he auditioned."

"He's Nate's sister's boyfriend," Lara corrected, then made a face. "Try saying that five times fast. Anyway, we all thought he was serious, Ryan. It's no one's fault."

"I know. It's just been bugging me for a few weeks now and I haven't been sure whether to say anything." She huffed out a breath. "Nate and Mitch are on board, always have been, but Jason keeps wanting to rock the boat. It infuriates me." She paused to gather her thoughts. "I know what I'm doing, and I'm glad you guys trust me. If Jason doesn't start trusting, it'll be a problem."

Lara nodded. "It will. I have to say, I keep waiting for you guys to have an actual fight one day."

Ryan scoffed. "Please. I'd mop the floor with him. Hardly worth the effort."

"True. So, how are things with the family?" Lara switched lanes and subjects as their exit approached.

"The usual. I'm such a disappointment."

"No, you're not. They don't say that."

"Not out loud, but it's definitely what they think." She considered. "Okay, not Evan. But the rest of them."

"I've never understood that." Lara turned onto Route 1. "I know they're into sports, and that takes talent and work. But you have talent and you work hard, it's just different talent. So I don't see how they can be like that."

"Are you kidding? With my dad, it was sports or nothing. Thank God the boys came along, or he would have died of a broken heart."

"Come on, Ry, you're exaggerating."

"Am I? For God's sake, Lara, they gave me a boy's name. How much more obvious could they have been that they wanted me to be a son? Geez, if they'd found out ahead of time, they probably would have given me up for adoption."

"Oh, come on. We've been over this."

"Okay, okay. I'll drop it before I start feeling sorry for myself."

"Good. I'm staying home tonight and I don't have time for your pity party." Lara nudged her arm to take the sting out of her words.

"Wow, home? What have I done to warrant the honor of your company?" Ryan feigned shock as they got to their door and she unlocked it. "Did Trout find a mermaid?"

"Oh, knock it off." Lara smacked Ryan's shoulder. "He's off on a camping trip with some friends. I don't do beds outdoors."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"At the Marriott."

Ryan laughed. "Well, they say couples should have their own individual interests, right? So this is good. Time apart. You can appreciate him more when you see him again."

"I'll appreciate him plenty once he showers."

Ryan made a face. "Thanks for the image."

"Hey, mental hands off my boyfriend."

"I don't want my hands, of any sort, on your boyfriend. Have no fear."

"Okay." Lara grabbed some water. "Besides, you should want your hands on Brody Lang."

"Oh, please." Ryan reached in for a soda. "We're friends, ok? We talk. He's a nice guy."

"But?" Lara led the way into the living room and they each dropped onto the couch.

Ryan stretched her legs, reveling in being free of any casts. "But what?"

"There's a but in there, I can tell. He's a nice guy, apparently single. You're single, so what's the problem?"

"Maybe I'm not looking for a boyfriend, ever think of that?"

Lara scoffed.

"Okay, fine." Ryan took a long drink. "I like him, ok? But he's a hockey player. After all the sports crap I've put up with in my life already, I have no desire to date a professional athlete. And let me point out there's no evidence he wants to date me."