The Price

Taylor was pulling Abigail forward through the crowded dance floor when she suddenly felt someone grab her wrist, yanking her off balance.

"Pretending you didn't see me? Don't think I don't know how things work around here." The man in the floral shirt gave a cold snort, grabbed Taylor by the wrist, and dragged her toward his seat.

The women the promoter had brought in tonight wore long evening gowns much like the ones the two of them had on, so their identities had been mistaken.

Taylor immediately cried out, but she was too slender to put up much of a fight.

How could Abigail let her friend be dragged away? But dressed in an evening gown, she could barely move. In desperation, she shouted toward Ryan, who was farther away.

"Ryan! Come help us!"

"Ryan!!"

The nightclub was already deafeningly noisy, and the lights were dim. Ryan didn't hear Abigail calling for him. In the end, some of the club's security staff noticed the commotion and rushed over. One of them happened to be beside Ryan. He turned around and realized that the woman being dragged looked familiar. Then he spotted Abigail in a green dress beside her. Startled, Ryan hurried over without wasting another moment.

The security staff seemed to know the man. Although they stopped him, they didn't help Taylor get free.

Taylor had taken off her sunglasses and was repeatedly telling them who she was, but in the chaos, no one paid attention to what she was saying.

Just as Taylor began to feel uneasy, a tall figure pushed through the crowd and reached out, prying the hand gripping her arm away.

As a football player, Ryan's size and strength utterly outclassed those of this middle-aged man, whose body had been worn down by drink and women.

Ryan gave another tug and bent the man's fingers backward. The middle-aged man doubled over in pain. At the same time, his friends rushed over, and Ryan, the security staff, and the middle-aged man's group found themselves in a standoff. The situation grew even more chaotic.

When Taylor and Abigail saw that it was Ryan, they clung to him like frightened fledglings, one on either side. In this unfamiliar place, Ryan's sturdy build gave them a reassuring sense of security.

Ryan wasn't nervous in the slightest. He'd been stationed at the nightclub for half a month, and a confrontation broke out every couple of days on average. He was used to it by now.

The nightclub manager and the guard who had been checking people in at the entrance also hurried over. As they talked, the middle-aged man's identity came to light: he owned a nearby Spanish Restaurant, and he'd come out with friends that night. He knew the club's owner.

With the misunderstanding cleared up, it looked as if the matter would soon be settled.

But Taylor didn't want to let it go.

"Did you get a good look at my face?!" Taylor pointed at herself, acting as if she wouldn't let anyone off the hook now that she had the upper hand.

Not just the nightclub manager—even the middle-aged man began apologizing to Taylor. She was a celebrity, after all, and making a scene would do nobody any good.

In the end, Ryan stepped in and took Taylor and Abigail away.

"What brings you two here tonight?" Ryan finally asked.

"We already booked our tickets for Spring Break. We're going to Panama City first," Abigail said, bringing up something else.

Abigail had invited Ryan several times over the past few days. He nodded, formally accepting.

Meanwhile, Taylor was still a little angry, but remembering that Ryan had just helped her out, she said through a scowl, "Thanks."

I'll forgive you for playing that song without asking tonight, Taylor thought.

"Oh, by the way, you left your jacket in my room last time. I'll bring it to you the day after tomorrow," Ryan suddenly said to Abigail.

"Sounds good." Abigail nodded, answering quite naturally, completely unaware that Taylor beside her had widened her eyes as if she'd seen a ghost.

Taylor tried to suppress her strong sense of foreboding and casually asked, "By the way, it's been half a month since I last saw you two. How are things going?"

Abigail simply gave Taylor a smile.

That one smile only made Taylor more uneasy. Unable to get anywhere with Abigail, she turned to Ryan instead.

"Ryan, take me home later," Taylor said suddenly, her tone mysterious.

Ryan and Abigail exchanged a glance, then gestured with their eyes toward the car nearby. Taylor had driven there tonight, and it was an automatic.

Taylor was about to say something else, but Ryan and Abigail had already turned and walked away. She kicked a tire in frustration, then immediately started tearing up from the pain.

"Taylor was acting so strange just now," Abigail said from the passenger seat of the Challenger, gazing out the window.

Ryan couldn't help thinking, Weren't you the one who wanted to make it clear there was nothing between you? Why are you getting worked up just because I'm getting closer to your best friend?

"Maybe she thinks that now you're here, I won't be able to spend all my time with her anymore," Abigail offered by way of explanation.

Abigail went on to talk about Taylor's past. After first signing with RCA, a subsidiary of Sony, the two sides never actually worked together. Besides failing to agree on when to release an album, Taylor had also wanted a creative environment free from interference.

Scott, a former DreamWorks Records executive, was willing to give Taylor that absolute freedom. Of course, that was also thanks to the influence of Taylor's father, another Scott. Taylor had the final say over everything, from the direction of her music and the lyrics to the music videos. That set her apart from most singers at the beginning of their careers.

"So what was the price of that freedom?" Ryan asked suddenly. Taylor's experience might be relevant to him.

"I wouldn't know. But Taylor once complained that most of her career as a singer had been tied up in a recording contract. I think the deal lasted more than ten years," Abigail said, trying to recall.

Ryan's heart sank. If even she had to sign a contract that lasted so long, his own terms would only be worse.

A little while later, the Challenger pulled up outside Abigail's house.

Before getting out, Abigail waved goodbye to Ryan.

"See you at the airport the day after tomorrow," Abigail said.

When Ryan got home, he hadn't even had time to change into his slippers before he saw Trey holding a bank statement. Ryan could delete emails, but he couldn't destroy a paper statement.

Trey hadn't even had time to get angry when Ryan took a small stack of bills from his wallet and handed it to her.

He explained everything to Trey, including that he'd earned the money by working as a resident DJ.

That was only part of his total income. Paid downloads would bring in some more, but for now, they weren't earning as much as his live performances. Even combined, all the income was nowhere near what Ryan had expected. In truth, the single hadn't made much of a splash.

"You're sure you haven't been dealing drugs at school?" Trey clearly didn't believe him.

"Of course not." Ryan hurriedly shook his head, then led Trey to the study and had her put on a pair of headphones.

Trey asked him all sorts of questions before finally putting her mind at ease.

"I have to admit, it's pretty catchy." Trey nodded repeatedly, then asked where Ryan "worked."

Only after she left did Ryan notice that she'd left the stack of money on the table. It was less that she'd forgotten to take it than that she'd never intended to accept it in the first place.

Ryan wasn't going to argue with her. He put the money back in his wallet and got ready to keep making Electronic music as usual.

But before long, Trey came back in, holding her phone.

"Taylor Swift."

Ryan read her lips.

He picked up the phone and answered. Taylor launched straight into a furious tirade.

"You went back on your word, you bastard! Who told you to make a move on Abigail..."