Brother-in-law

Ryan had no reason to refuse; the nightclub was dumpy, cramped, and the sound system was subpar. The "atmosphere group" of Champagne Babes and the same batch of Rune Warriors coming and going made everyone feel like regulars.

"If we're going out, we're going to the best spot in Nashville!" Ryan said.

"This..." Joel stuck to his original point: "In Nashville, music bars are the main melody of nightlife."

The implication was that it wouldn't be much better anywhere else.

Ryan had to take a step back: "As long as it's better than this dump."

At dawn, Ryan and Joel walked out of the club and parted ways in the parking lot. As he turned around, Ryan saw Abigail standing next to his car.

"What are you doing here?" Ryan chuckled.

"Wanted to give you a surprise." Abigail hurried over and threw herself into Ryan's arms.

"If I recall correctly, I just dropped you off at home before my shift, didn't I?"

"Then you can take me back again."

"Don't ambush me like this next time. It's not safe for a girl to be out in the middle of the night."

"Alright, I got it."

In the car, Abigail brought up the aftermath of the Panama City incident.

"Weren't those three guys already expelled from school?" Ryan asked.

All three had made the news afterward, and their identities were revealed as students from Troy University in Alabama. The guy with the dreadlocks that Ryan had faced off against was even a member of the school's track and field team.

"The three were expelled, but the local sheriff was also forced to resign. Footage of him violently beating the suspect was posted online, and the local Black community protested in front of the police station," Abigail said.

Whether it was Hendersonville High School or Vanderbilt University, both were in the suburbs of Nashville where there wasn't much Black activity. Ryan hadn't been very sensitive to racial issues before.

"If I remember correctly, the guy was trying to run away," Ryan said.

"That's right."

"If he had been white, it probably wouldn't have caused such a huge reaction."

"Also true."

"So, the most correct way to handle it is to avoid physical contact, even if it means letting them get away. If you're under a life-threatening situation, like if they have a knife, you just empty the magazine and take an administrative leave," Ryan added.

"...Let's not talk about this. I have a 6A level competition next week. If I win, I'll likely be able to apply for a scholarship. Will you come watch me?" Abigail asked. So that was why she had come all this way.

In the U.S., student-athletes could receive full scholarships if their grades were good enough, though spots were limited.

"I work the night shift, not the afternoon shift." Ryan shrugged.

"That's great!" Abigail said, quickly planting a kiss on Ryan's cheek.

After the car pulled up in front of Abigail's house, the two lingered in the car for a while before she finally got out.

At the last moment, Ryan mentioned his Myspace. Abigail immediately patted her chest, promising she would get Taylor to help him, and gave Ryan an OK gesture.

·

When Ryan closed the door, he realized the living room light was still on. Usually, Trey would be fast asleep by this hour.

He walked into the living room and saw Trey sitting on the sofa watching TV with a large, long-haired Maine Coon on her lap. Trey was still wearing her black lace camisole nightgown.

"Wait a second."

As Ryan passed by, Trey suddenly spoke up.

Ryan turned around. Trey sat there opposite him, doing nothing but staring at him, which made Ryan feel a chill down his spine.

Just as Trey was about to say something, she noticed Ryan's eyes involuntarily scanning her, and his expression turned awkward. She immediately stood up, grabbed a cardigan to put on, and sat back down. Her first sentence made Ryan's nerves tighten.

"Tell me the truth, did you do something to let someone down?" Trey's gaze was piercing, as if she wanted to see straight through Ryan's heart.

"Who? Abigail?!"

"You ruined Abigail too?" Trey's pupils constricted, as if she had discovered something shocking.

She then chuckled: "I shouldn't have let you be the male lead in Taylor's MV. Then you two wouldn't have met."

"What exactly happened?" Ryan frowned.

Trey's production company had started pre-production for Taylor's new album MV last week, but just today, Big Machine requested a change of director. Considering Taylor's decisive role in the matter, it was entirely her decision.

This was highly unusual. The collaboration between Trey and Taylor had brought lucrative returns to both sides. For two consecutive years, Taylor's two MVs had won CMT's Breakthrough Video of the Year, Female Video of the Year, and the most prestigious Video of the Year. It brought fame to Taylor and elevated Trey's reputation in the industry—a true win-win.

Trey couldn't figure it out, but then she associated it with Ryan, Taylor, and Abigail going to Florida during Spring Break, as well as Ryan's previous phone calls with Taylor, and realized the reason.

Everything was now clear.

She shot over ten MVs a year on average; losing one big client was a blow, but it certainly wasn't fatal.

"It's fine if we don't shoot it. I was actually looking forward to having a few more days of rest anyway." Trey got up and headed upstairs.

·

Sure enough, the next day on campus, Abigail brought bad news, saying that Taylor was unwilling to help.

Ryan nodded, having already put Taylor out of his mind. Good news came from the Beatport website backend: due to excellent sales, he had broken out of "What's Hot" and advanced to the more prominent "Trending" section, a recommendation spot featuring only 40 songs.

The backend showed that he was selling over a thousand copies a day on average, which was significantly better than before, and he had even made it onto the site's Daily Best Sellers list, albeit at the very bottom.

"Are you coming to the swimming pool to see me this afternoon?" Abigail asked again.

"I have to attend football team practice," Ryan said.

It had been nearly half a month since his last practice, and Ryan didn't dare to "skip work" again.

"Yo, DJ! Coming to practice?"

"DJ, when are you going to introduce us to some girls from the clubs?"

By now, Ryan had a new nickname at school, courtesy of the big-mouthed Paul; the entire school knew he was a DJ who made guest appearances at Ultra.

However, considering that electronic music wasn't exactly mainstream among the youth, and the school had previously produced a "legend" like Taylor, Ryan's presence didn't cause a sensation; the teammates were mostly just teasing him.

The teammates greeted Ryan not only because they hadn't seen him in a while, but also because they were in high spirits. Last week, the Assault Team had successfully defeated their old rivals, Gallatin High School, keeping their hopes of winning the State Champion title alive. Ryan hadn't even been able to travel with the team to the game; he had been in Florida that day.

Just as he was thinking about this, he saw Paul walk over and say to Ryan as if leaking a secret: "You'd better perform well today, or your position might be in jeopardy. In the game a few days ago, we had an underclassman fill in for you, and he performed quite well."

There was such a thing?

Ryan soon met his replacement from the last game: a tall, burly, white kid with brown, ramen-like curly hair that hung limply on his head. Because he was quite sturdy, he looked rather honest and simple.

"Senior Ryan, I've finally waited for you!" He approached Ryan quickly, looking as if he had just met his savior.

Far from wanting to compete with Ryan for his position, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a little fanboy of Ryan's.

He introduced himself as Austin, currently in the tenth grade.

Ryan soon learned the reason: while other positions could receive guidance from corresponding coaches, Tight Ends were rare in high school-level games, and most Tight Ends only transitioned from other positions during college.

Austin was the same; he was originally a running back, but his speed advantage wasn't obvious. He had been forced to fill in as a Tight End on short notice during the game, and to everyone's surprise, the results were exceptionally good.

Austin now wanted to switch positions, but he couldn't get any specialized training.

Ryan wasn't a football coach, but his coach at his former high school happened to be a former Tight End, and from him, Ryan had learned quite a bit about the techniques and knowledge regarding the Tight End position.

Considering he might be spending less and less time at school, having a backup wasn't a bad idea. Ryan wasn't stingy and taught him everything he knew, though he held back on a few specific points to avoid the situation where the apprentice masters the craft and starves the master.

By the end of the training session, Austin and Ryan had developed a growing rapport.

During a break in practice, as other teammates passed by, they teased Austin: "How many men is your sister planning to stuff into her new album this time?"

Sister? New album?

Ryan whipped his head around, looking at the ramen-style hair on Austin that was the same style as someone else's, though Austin's was short and a different color.

"What is your last name?" Ryan asked immediately.