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Jack cupped his hands to yell over the rush. “Because I told you! You’re the key, Gemma!”
CHAPTER
4
Gemma climbed inher car and slammed the door. She had no idea what Jack meant. She wasn’t the key to anything, especially not this mysterious time loop he seemed to believe they were stuck inside.
But what about everything he knew? Her shirt, her brother, her morning getting canceled. And they hadkissed?
None of it made sense.
She pulled into traffic, needing to clear her mind and get some perspective on it all. And she knew exactly who could give it to her.
But first, she had to check in with work.
She poked her touch screen console to pull up Carmen’s phone number.
“Yell-o,” she answered in her husky voice after a few rings. Gemma pictured her in the studio leaning back in a chair with her combat boots kicked up on the soundboard. Hugo, their sound tech, would show up and scold her, andshe would flick his ear. Working in close quarters on a daily basis made them all feel a bit like siblings.
“Hey. Are you good to cover this morning? I saw Marsha’s email.”
“Already covered, Gemstone.”
She heard a slurping sound and knew Carmen was finishing one of the protein smoothies she favored for breakfast. Few things annoyed Hugo more than a straw sucking air at the bottom of an empty cup. Gemma didn’t mind it.
“Great. I have something I have to take care of, so I won’t be in for a while.”
“Well, when the cat’s away...”
Gemma smirked and switched lanes to head toward the freeway on-ramp. “That’s not it. I actually have something to deal with.”
She heard a shuffle and athunkand pictured Carmen rocking forward to put the chair’s feet on the floor. “Everything all right?”
She honestly didn’t know how to answer, though she appreciated the concern. There was the fact that she was still damp with coffee, and that her brother was not on his way home, not yet at least. And the whole potentialstuck in a time loopthing.
“Yes,” she said, because she hadn’t planned to explain it all to Carmen. She needed to tell someone a little safer than her coworker—even a coworker whom she considered a friend. She needed the protection of unconditional support first.
“If you say so. What are we going to do with Nigel Black if Marsha can’t do the interview?”
She chewed her lip at the thought of what would happenwith that particular predicament. “Not sure yet, but let’s hope we don’t have to cancel.”
“Well,youcould always do it, you know...”
“Ha,” Gemma said flatly as she accelerated onto the freeway.
Music lived in her blood. She played a few instruments, sure, but she would never be onstage. She had never wanted that, and the mere thought of such exposure terrified her anyway. What existed in her veins was a passion for thepeoplein music: the stories, the history. The human experience tied up in creating the most universally relatable art form. She wanted to talk to those people, to hear what they had to say and then share it. The closest she’d come was producing a small but up-and-coming live radio show in the heart of the entertainment industry—which was miles closer than most would make it—but she had yet to work up the nerve to actually interview someone on air. Starting with Nigel Black, her favorite singer of all time, would be like climbing Everest without so much as ever going on a hike first. But still, the thought was exhilarating.
“I’m serious,” Carmen said. “You scripted the interview, and we all know you’re a closet fangirl.”
She was right on both counts, but she didn’t know Gemma’s history with Nigel. She didn’t know he was the first famous person she’d ever met, her idol even back then, and her seven-year-old brain forced her to freeze up like a statue. All the adults had laughed and insisted her shyness was cute, Nigel included, but Gemma had never gotten over it.
“Come on, Gemma,” Carmen said in her silence. “I think you’re ready. And it’s no secret you want to host. You just have to show Marsha that you can do it.”
Gemma considered for a minute. Her boss knew she wanted to host her own show, and Gemma was right on the cusp. She only needed to step up and prove herself—and the opportunity was hanging right in front of her like a big, juicy berry. But of course it had to be Nigel. Theoneartist she couldn’t possibly face now stood between her current life in the production booth and the one in front of the mic where she longed to be.
“If Marsha wanted me to do it, she would have said so instead of suggesting canceling it,” Gemma said, dismayed and discouraged.
“I’msaying so,” Carmen said. “Come on. What are you so afraid of? All you have to do is ask him the questions you wrote. Easy.”
