Last year The Knights of Ren picked up a Best Video statue as well as the Viewer's Choice Award for the "Darkside Blues" video. A rare occurrence to win both, considering the former is usually based on artistic merit and the latter on the size of an artist's fan base. Those two things are often mutually exclusive. In 1996 they'd taken home a Best Rock Video award for "Kessel Run." He'd attended the awards off and on over the years back when he thought it was cool, usually sitting in the back of the upper level with the other plebes from his mother's label, except for the one year that Dagobah had been nominated for Best Alternative Video.
For Kylo, the VMAs have become like a yearly office party that you don't want to go to, but you do anyway in case something crazy goes down like Bob from accounting doing a keg stand and trying to fuck an ice sculpture.
This year's red carpet was especially tedious. More marks to hit. More photographers yelling questions they know he won't answer and begging him to smile. He always wants to skip it, but again, there's that nagging question of "What if I miss out?"
When they let Rey join him, she fit herself against him in a way that has become familiar in a frighteningly short amount of time, and some of his tension vanished. She put her arm around him and rubbed little circles on his back, and with his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip barely high enough for propriety, he grazed his thumb along her hip. The noise and chaos fled and he was only aware of the firmness of her body and the smell of her hair and the brightness of her smile.
He'd told the Esquire journalist that he'd only come this year because of Rey, but it's not completely true. Bringing Rey is what makes the night bearable, but once the other guys in the band decided to go, Kylo was obligated, to avoid giving credence to breakup rumors. They've been plagued with breakup rumors from day one and usually don't bother addressing them, because it means that the band is relevant enough for people to care, but that was before "Ashes of My Enemies."
Snoke seems to have realized that he made a strategic error when he let Kylo record a solo single.
It's obvious Snoke wanted to let Kylo taste freedom before sending him off to record with those idiots, but it's also obvious that Snoke never expected the single to be so successful. It's a tactical error that gives Kylo an advantage. Despite the contract, he doesn't actually have to record four more albums with the Knights. They'll recoup with the next one and maybe Kylo can convince Snoke to let him go solo. For good. Snoke may care about power over people more than money, but he does still care about money.
But right now, there are more important things to think about, like the look on Rey's face as they take their seats. She grips his hand as she looks around with big eyes. She looks so amazing tonight, in that dress, that all he wants to do is get her out of it as soon as possible. Funny how that works.
"This is unreal. That's Diana Ross at the end of our row! If I have to pee, I'll have to squeeze past her."
"Don't stare, but I'm pretty sure Bala Tik is heading to the seat next to yours."
Watching Rey summon the will to keep herself from turning around and gawking is so endearing that he tugs her toward him and kisses her.
"Ach, get a fuckin' room you two," Rey's new neighbor says.
Rey turns around as Bala and the rest of the Guavian Death Gang file into the row. Bala introduces himself to Rey and nods at Kylo.
Kylo would rather not get into conversation with any of them but once Bala sits down he insists on making small talk with Rey. Kylo faces forward, trying to ignore it.
He didn't run into this problem a lot with Katya. Men (and women) were of course interested in her, because she's stunning, but she is also intimidating as hell if you don't know her. They looked on from afar, and the few who had the confidence to talk to her were met with a bored indifference that had them skulking off within minutes. With Kylo, it wasn't so much that he ever truly seduced her, but that she decided he was interesting enough to expend her energy on.
Rey has a different energy. People want to know her, to figure her out, which he figures is hard on her since she doesn't let just anyone in. Bala Tik isn't flirting with Rey. He's married, and reportedly faithful. But Rey is captivating.
Kylo is drawn back to their conversation when he hears his mother's name.
"What was that?" he says.
"Bala was just telling me that they almost signed with Resistance?"
"Oh yeah, Han promised he'd sign them but Leia wouldn't do it."
"We were playing a festival in Utah. Us and Kanjiklub. Said he'd get us all signed. Too bad Utah doesn't have verbal contract laws"
"First Order scooped them up. Kanjiklub too."
"Why wouldn't Leia take them?" Rey asks.
"Well," Bala says. "She said she had enough rock bands on the roster at the moment but I think she just wanted to put one over on the old man, let him know who's boss."
"No, no. I think I remember this conversation. It was my last Thanksgiving at home and it was a doozy. If I remember correctly, Leia was passing around the candied yams and she said that The Guavian Death Gang sounds like someone put The Smiths through a metal shredder and shit on it. She liked Kanjiklub but couldn't sign them without you since Han made the offers at the same time."
"Fuck you, Ren," Bala growls. "And your mum."
Kylo figures he would have about thirty seconds before security arrived, if he were to drag Bala out of his chair, throw him down and kick him a few times. He moves to stand but Rey puts her hand on his thigh and squeezes it. He looks at her and she widens her eyes and all the fight goes out of him because he wants to kiss her again.
He doesn't kiss her. But he puts his hand on top of hers and settles for giving Bala Tik a long, baleful look. Bala curses again and trades places with his drummer, four seats down from Rey.
Good.
When the lights go down, Rey sits up straight, looking around as the light show for the opening number starts.
Suppressing a groan, Kylo slumps in his seat as a full choir enters from the lobby and makes its way down the aisles to the stage, singing the chorus of Kid Greedo's "Mos Ei$ley Rodeo," gospel style. When the two halves of the choir meet on stage, Greedo rises from the floor on a platform and spends a full thirty seconds soaking in the crowd's adoration before he starts his rap.
As annoying as it is to watch, Kylo understands it. Playing on this stage is insane. Not only do you have the energy of the live audience to feed off of, but also the knowledge of millions of people watching from home. The first time they played an awards show he got a boner in the middle of their number. That performance, they were dressed in cassocks and for the first time, he was grateful for their ridiculous stage costumes.
Despite his disgust at Greedo's theatrics, he looks on everything with a longing that only serves to worsen his mood.
When it's finally over, they go to commercial and people immediately turn around in their seats and even jump out of them to start having conversations. The networking that's done in five minute intervals during these things is incredible. The guy in front of him turns around and it turns out to be Terex, a producer with videos for three songs up for awards tonight.
Kylo shakes his hand and lets him pitch him on an idea. He's mostly a pop and hip hop producer but he started out producing rock albums.
"Sounds like we should talk some more," Kylo says. "But ultimately it's up to Phasma. And Snoke."
"I'll be back in LA on Monday. I'll have my girl set something up."
"Sounds good."
Rey grabs his arm as Terex turns back around. "Oh my God, are you kidding me? How are you so calm?"
Kylo shrugs. "I'm used to it. But hey, if anyone pitches anything to you, tell them to talk to your manager or A&R, depending on what it is. Don't agree to anything."
"Okay."
"But, there's a good chance you'll find your first video director here."
The thought of working with Terex intrigues him, but he can't get too excited. He would want Terex to produce the whole album, and Phasma wants them to use multiple producers this time around. Her logic is that it'll push more singles, since producers are stars these days, too. But he's also heard some of the growing panic over digital file sharing, and wants an album that's more than a few good singles and a bunch of filler. Ultimately, though, he doesn't care as long as their next album makes enough money to buy him some leverage.
They get the on-air warning as the lights go down again. When their host enters, Kylo sits up, squares his shoulders and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
This is where it gets tricky. On the one hand, being poked fun at in an opening monologue is great because it means you're relevant enough to be mentioned, but it still stings a little, and you have to smile and laugh it off like you're in on the joke, because the camera will cut to you. Even if you already have a reputation for being a dickhead it's best to go along with it, no matter what they say. Kylo has no personal beef with Chris Rock. He's never even met him. But no one is safe in the monologue.
It happens about halfway in. Rock has the audience warmed up and in the palm of his hand when starts talking about boy bands.
"And boybands! Look at all the boybands in the audience tonight. We've got Backstreet Boys, 'N Sync, The Knights of Ren…" He holds for the laughter and Kylo smiles like he's supposed to. Irritating, but not too bad.
"You know," Rock goes on. "Boybands are interesting, because you've got your types in every band. The same types in every band. The cute one, the bad boy, the heartthrob, and the funny looking one. Now most of the time, they keep the funny looking one in the background, but in the Knights of Ren they've got him front and center. Not hard to guess whose idea those masks were!"
It's harder to smile this time but he manages, and when Rock finally moves on, Kylo takes a deep breath.
Rey takes his hand between both of hers. "It wasn't even a funny joke," she whispers to him. "And I like your face."
He sits through the rest of the show stony faced and distracted, only paying attention to what's on stage when Rey reacts to something. He buts a good face on during the commercial breaks and introduces Rey to everyone who comes to talk to him. They each slip about a dozen business cards into her purse.
When it's over, he ushers her to the courtyard, where everyone is milling around, waiting for cars.
"Hey man, how were the good seats?" Mikey says as the other Knights join them.
"They were good."
"Too bad you got slammed like that."
"He referred to the entire band as a boyband."
"Yeah but you were the one he called funny looking."
"Sorry I stole your thunder."
"Fuck off, Ren. So who all's going to the after party?"
Derek and Banks beg off, and decide to sneak around the corner to get a cab instead of waiting for the limo.
Kylo turns to Rey, who is still looking around like she's in a dream, frantically hoarding details in case she wakes up. "Do you want to go?"
"Of course!"
They climb into the limo again for the five block drive to Coma, the club that's hosting the official after party. From there, later in the night, guests will splinter off to different apartments and suites. He gets pressured every year to have a party at his loft, but he's always refused. He doesn't like enough people for it to be worth it, and people always treat his home like it's a museum.
Moff makes the driver circle around the block for fifteen minutes before they can get out, so they don't arrive too early. The club is crowded but not packed when they arrive, and there aren't very many people who are stumbling drunk yet. Kylo has to hand it to Moff. About club life, he's an expert. All those years spinning records at clubs before signing with the Knights paid off.
At the door, Moff and Mikey stop to sign a few autographs, but Kylo rushes in, holding Rey's hand and ignoring the shouts from fans and photographers lined up on either side of the awning.
When they get into the main room after checking Rey's jacket and going through the rigamarole of getting wrist bands, Rey stops cold in the entrance. "Holy shit," she breathes.
The club is a former ballroom, round with a domed ceiling, and decked out in what could only be called neo-Victorian. All of the original gold leaf molding and friezes are in place, with purple lights illuminating the columns. Most of the furniture looks like it came from a Victorian estate, all tufted with spindly legs, but upholstered in purple and gold paisley. There are two levels, with the upper galleries reserved for VIP. Which on a night like this means people like Madonna and Janet Jackson.
Taybin Ralorsa finds them immediately and takes Rey's hand
"I'm going to steal her for just a minute," she says. "I've got some people she needs to meet."
He manages a kiss on her cheek before she's swept into the crowd. Mikey and Moff chase after a couple of Britney Spears' dancers and Kylo gets stuck talking to an exec from an indie label he's never even heard of.
When Rey circles back around with Taybin, Kylo takes her hand. "Do you want anything to drink?" he yells into her ear over a remix of a Mandy Moore song.
"Just a Coke," she says. "But tell them to put a lime in it so I don't have to listen to people asking me why I'm not drinking all night. We're gonna go sit down over there."
"Okay." He kisses her on the cheek but she's already talking to Taybin.
The crowd is dense near the bar, a huge circle in the center of the room, and it takes forever. It's not easy getting special treatment in a room full of VIPs. There is a hierarchy, though, and at least he gets served before the dude from Smashmouth.
"Coke with lime and a club soda with lime."
He's not going to drink it, because pissing is not an easy task in these pants, but Rey had a point about at least appearing to indulge. The bartender slides the drinks across the bar. He grabs them and starts to go, but turns around.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I'll add a Dos Equis and a Heineken." That should be right. He's spent enough time with these guys he should at least know their drinks.
"No problem."
As he's walking back over with the drinks, he spots Kid Greedo talking to Rey, sitting close to her on a setee. She's laughing, but when Greedo leans in to say something in her ear, and the smile drops off her face.
Kylo absently shoves all the drinks at Moff and Mikey and stalks over to Greedo, looming over him.
"What the fuck did you say to her?"
Rey stands up and touches his arm. "Kylo I've got it handled don't worry about it."
"No, what the fuck did he say to you?"
Greedo hands his drink off to one of his bodyguards and stands up, facing off with Kylo. "I asked her if you fuck her with your mask on."
There's a moment when the rational part of Kylo's brain warns him that what he wants to do is a bad idea. That moment seems to stretch into a much longer moment, as he contemplates all the ways he could hurt this asshole. But all of that occurs in the space between beats and before his brain can catch up to his body he's punching Kid Greedo in the face.
Greedo crumples, blood gushing out of his nose as one of the body guards attends to Greedo, holding him back, and the other squares up to Kylo.
"You got your shot in," the guard says. He's got at least two inches and forty pounds on Kylo. "You're not getting another one. We'd let him fight to save face, but he's little and stupid and you'd kick his ass."
Mikey takes Kylo by the arms and walks him away, but Kylo shakes him off and takes Rey's hand, pulling her toward the exit.
"What are you doing?"
"We're leaving."
"I don't want to leave yet."
He drops her hand. "Fine. I'll take the subway. You can have the limo. I'll see you later."
He starts to walk off and she grabs his hand. "Kylo, no."
He looks around. The coat check room is the only option for privacy other than the bathroom, which is on the other side of the club. He tells the coat check attendant to go have a smoke break, pulls Rey inside and draws the curtain across the front opening. Still, he keeps his voice as low as possible. "You don't want to leave. I don't want to stay. I'm fine taking the train."
"This is my first time at one of these things and I don't want to leave just because you're acting like a jealous child. And I definitely don't want to give those assholes out there a perfect shot of you dragging me away like a fucking caveman."
"That was not about jealousy. That was about—"
"Oh yeah, protecting me? It had nothing to do with the fact that he has a Grammy and you don't? That he got to open the show? That he was talking to me in the first place?"
"It's a Best New Artist Grammy."
"Oh my God! Like you wouldn't put it on display in the middle of your living room if you had one!"
"Whatever. If you want to stay, fucking stay. Party with Moff and Mikey and whoever the fuck else."
He turns to leave but she yanks him back.
"So you want to leave separately? There's no way the press isn't going to find out about you punching Kid Greedo in the nose and if either of us leave right now it's just some stupid fight over a girl, and I'm the girl and it'll automatically be my fault and I don't want that. I don't know why you didn't listen to me to begin with. I've had guys say worse things to me. I could have handled it."
"Because you shouldn't have to handle it."
"Why? Because it'll make you look bad?"
"No, because you just shouldn't. I don't know why you wanted to talk to him anyway."
"I didn't, but I didn't want to be rude. I can't afford to be rude. But I'm not going to talk to him anymore and it's not because you don't want me to but because he said something gross to me. Okay?"
"Okay."
They stand there amongst the coats, staring at each other. The adrenaline has worn off enough that his hand is starting to ache. Rey's cheeks are flushed and her hair is falling out of its arrangement and he feels like an ass for ruining her night. He takes a step toward her and she backs against the wall. As he's leaning in, there's a knock on the door.
"Y'all can't be fuckin' in there. I need to get back to work. There's more guests coming in."
Kylo opens the door and smiles at the attendant. "Sorry about that. No fucking, just a little discussion." He reaches into one of the zipper pockets on the side of his pants and pulls out a hundred. "Sorry for the inconvenience."
Rey smiles meekly at the attendant as they slip out of the room.
"Do you still want to stay?"
"Not really. These shoes suck. But how do we get our car?" There's a few dozen of them out there."
"I don't know; the valets figure it out. All I have to do is tell the bouncer to tell the valets to find it."
"What about Moff and Mikey?"
"I'll send it back for them, or they'll grab cabs, or go home with someone. I don't care."
"Why are you so mean to them?"
"I'm absolutely not getting into that right now."
He looks down at her, expecting her to be angry, but her eyes are sad and brimming. "Look, Rey, it's complicated and there's been enough drama tonight."
"None of it is my fault."
"I know, Rey. Christ." He goes to talk to the bouncer while Rey retrieves her jacket.
"Yo!" Moff says. "There y'all are. Greedo's goons took him out the back. I don't know how many people saw. The big dude said Greedo's probably not going to press charges but who knows. When that motherfucker wakes up with two black eyes tomorrow he may change his mind."
"Whatever," Kylo says. He won't see the inside of a jail or a courtroom so it doesn't matter. Something for his lawyers and publicist to figure out.
A valet pokes his head through the door. "Mr. Ren, your car is here."
"I'll send it back for you," Kylo says to Moff. "And, um, thanks."
"No problem, man."
Rey's hand slides into Kylo's. He takes a deep breath, puts on his most neutral expression.
"Ready?"
"Let's blow this popsicle stand."