Rye

                  I've got to give it to her, she's working her ass off for this band. Launi has been posting consistently to social media, three of her videos have gone viral already and I'm sure the content from the radio interview this afternoon will make its rounds as well. She seems so at ease in the world of publicity, walking into a room to demand camera angles and lighting. Watching her assert herself to the crew at the station had me wishing for a quick break with her in the bus alone. I push the thought from my mind as the producer reaches for my hand and thanks me for being here.

                  "No problem," I tell her.

                  "It's a short segment," the producer says. "He's going to ask you a few questions and then we will play you out with Baby Girl the version with you on the track."

                  I nod my head but continue to watch Launi work behind the scenes setting up her shot. She leans forward to make a few adjustments on her tripod, the motion causing her skirt to slide up further on her thighs. I shift in my seat and clear my throat. The noise catches her attention, and I swear she blushes when she sees me looking. Trying to remain professional, she tugs the hem back down and gets back to work.

                  "Is anything off limits?" the producer asks as the radio show host sits down in his seat and puts the headphones on.

                  "No," I say distractedly. Launi bends forward to adjust the settings on her camera and now I can see the red lace of her bra, and it doesn't escape me that I never got to touch her there. I can imagine my hands full of her, but that's all I can do. Opportunity lost.

                  "Great. Kenny is going to do the interview. We're about to start." The producer points to a light that tells me when we are on air. She then motions for me to put the headphones on. I do as she asks, shaking off the thoughts from before.

                  The light clicks on.

                  "Hey Portland, Kenny here with Rye Banning, the newest member of Free Pony." The host nods and waits for my response.

                  "Hi Kenny. Happy to be here and thanks for having me on the show." Of course, Launi had prepped me on the ride over. I've heard hundreds of these interviews over the years, but it feels surreal to be the center of attention now. My stress is top notch, and I can't wait for this to be done. My hand shakes slightly from the adrenaline and I grip my leg to make it stop.

                  "How's it been trying to fill your dad's shoes?" Kenny asks.

                  "I'm excited about this chance, but my dad is a legend and I'm not trying to irradicate him, just appease the crowd," I answer.

                  "Oh, come on," he coaxes, "We've seen some of the clips online, it looks like you're pulling in great numbers and are bringing new fans to the band. I had the honor of interviewing your father back in the day and he was quite the rock star."

                  I want to tell him that I hated that about my dad. My plans are to never be that guy that doesn't come home to his family and gambles away all their security, but I just smile and play the game.

                  "My dad left quite the legacy," I say honestly. Now we won't agree on what that legacy was exactly, but for the listeners, that's enough information.

                  "Your dad was one of the most influential drummers we've seen," Kenny says. "You must have heard some great stories growing up."

                  I look down at the table. I try to think of which story I could tell, but to be honest, they all put a bad taste in my mouth. I glance up to see Launi watching me. I have to continue. "Yea, um, I've heard some things," I tell him.

                  Kenny laughs. "In addition to his superior skills on the drums, he was also pretty good with the ladies."

                  Launi doesn't look away. I can see the understanding on her face. Our fathers' lives are something neither of us can escape. People forget we were once little kids having to slosh through their messy lifestyles. It's not funny or anything we're proud of no matter how cool it sounds to regular people and fans. It sucked.

                  "I've heard that," I say, keeping my eyes in hers.

                  Launi nods as if to say go ahead.

                  I switch my attention to the microphone and Kenny. "He must have been something because he got my mom," I half joke. "She was Miss Colorado before his tour bus hit her town."

                  "That's right, the beauty queen and the rock star. That was a great story," Kenny says. "We've heard you're also a rock star with a reputation about to pull through a few towns." I hate where this is going, but he's right on target for the PR we want.

                  "Yep," I answer. I look back at Launi and watch as she worries her lip between her teeth before releasing it. I'd give anything to be alone with her right now. I'd want her to keep the heels on but let her hair down. I'm already cataloging all the places I want to taste her.

                  "There are rumors you and Tinsley have broken up. Can you confirm those? I think there are a lot of fans that want to know your relationship status," Kenny probes.

                  It's like a splash of cold water to the face how quickly it brings me back to the conversation at hand. I try to laugh in a way that might give the impression I'm relaxed and comfortable with this process. I have no idea if it works. "Tinsley is a good girl," I tell him, "We enjoy each other's company."

                  "That's vague," he replies. "Maybe you can tell the listeners your ideal partner. Who has a chance to get backstage?" Kenny asks.

                  Launi shakes her head and motions her hands as if to say 'big.' I chuckle. I get what she's trying to say, but the motion wasn't thought through. She's lucky I don't answer based solely on that guidance.

                  "I love all women," I answer. "No particular preference."

                  "Casting a wide net," Kenny says, "I respect it." He's older than me and comes off as a late-aged uncle at a family BBQ trying to live his wild days through the younger guys at the party.

                  "I'm an equal opportunity performer," I say, "come watch and let's see what happens."

                  Launi gives me the thumbs up. Sex sells and I just put the open sign up.

                  "You heard him ladies, tomorrow night at the Moda Center you can shoot your shot." Kenny gives the rest of the details and then motions for Baby Girl to start. He removes his headphones and stands to shake my hand. "Good luck Rye," he says sincerely. "Your dad was a lot of fun to interview. I hope you guys can keep the band alive."

                  "Thank you," I tell him honestly.

                  Just outside the studio in the lobby there's a small group gathered to get my signature. Launi grabs her phone and records the content as young girls and older women take pictures with me and I sign everything from plain paper to concert merch. I can feel her watching me through the screen of the camera. I can't help but glance up to find her as she switches angles and moves around the crowd like she's oil and they're water.

                  Her arms lower the screen, and she types something on her phone before slipping it into the small bag she brought. I sign one last item as the young security team member enters the room. He helps her gather her things and then puts his hand around her waist to guide her out of the room. It's not necessary as she's fully capable of walking and the crowd is with me and not her. I take a step to follow, but Kenny enters the room and hands me an old picture of my father in this exact studio with three women hanging on him as he speaks into the microphone.

                  "I have another copy," he tells me. "You can have that one if you want."

                  "Thank you. That's really cool. I appreciate it man," I lie as I shake his hand and slip the old picture into my back pocket. I hate the way it feels to watch the door close behind Launi, leaving me in the room with my fathers' legacy.

                  "Will you sign a few more things," a woman asks from beside me, breaking me out of my trace.

                  "Sure," I say trying to hide my reluctance.

                  I take the cap off the sharpie she hands me and wait to be given the surface I'm to sign, but instead she pulls down the collar of her shirt and exposes herself to me with a little bounce.

                  I'm trying hard to be careful where my hand is as I slide the felt tip of the marker over the curves of her breasts, when the door opens and Launi steps back inside. She stops in her tracks as she takes in the image in front of her. The security guard is right behind her which somehow makes the whole scene feel more demeaning than it did when I was here alone. Launi pulls her phone from the bag slung around her body and starts to record. She never looks up again. Once the interaction with the fan is over, Launi puts the phone back in her bag and turns and walks out. The guard moves to retrieve the Ring light I hadn't notice she'd left behind earlier. He nods to me and then is hot on her heels as she heads back to the car outside.