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“I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to tell him who I was, but I was afraid. We clicked, the moment he sat down at the bar, and we were having such a nice conversation. He was flirting with me—no one ever flirts with me. He made me feel beautiful. We had a connection I’d never felt with anyone else, and I didn’t want to ruin it. If I’d told him who I was, he would’ve probably thought the only reason I was talking to him was because I still wanted the interview and that wasn’t it at all.”
“You were in a tough spot.”
“Not to mention, if I said something about the interview and he got angry about it, he could’ve had me fired.” I paused to blow my nose. “Of course, he wound up doing that anyway.”
“Did he report you to management?”
“I don’t think so, but someone heard us arguing in the hallway, told my boss, and he called me into his office to tell me my behavior was unacceptable. Like I’m the only employee who ever slept with a guest.” I threw myself back against the cushions with a huff. “What am I going to do, Aunt Meg? I have less than twenty-four hours to finish my senior project. The online magazine is done except for the cover story, but that’s the biggest part of it. It was supposed to be Onyx Knight. I was so sure I’d get the interview once I got backstage… now I have nothing but a bunch of fluff articles and album reviews. No meaty content. The way it is now, not only am I going to fail the class, but I won’t graduate either.”
“Nonsense. Let’s go have some dinner. While we’re eating, we can put our heads together and potentially come up with a plan.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what else to do, so I got up and followed her to the kitchen.
“What about your friend Sam’s band?” she asked as she put a thick slice of meatloaf on my plate. “The one who got you backstage.”
My friend Sam worked at the arena as part of the in-house security team. We’d had a couple of classes together and he’d offered to sneak me backstage in exchange for featuring his band in the e-zine at some later date. I’d quickly agreed, so confident I’d be able to talk someone in the band into letting me interview them. I’d put all my eggs in one basket, and now I was screwed.
“Sam’s band is local,” I said, resting my chin in my hand and toying with the food Aunt Meg put in front of me. “I don’t know if Professor Russell will even consider letting me feature a local band. The whole point of the exercise is to push your limits professionally. He told me from the get-go he didn’t think I could get an interview with Onyx Knight. Dammit, what am I going to do?”
“It’s too late to ask permission,” she said softly. “All you can do now is take control and do the story. Dig into the trials and tribulations of trying to make it in today’s music business. Ask him for details about the worst gig they’ve ever had or a time when they didn’t get paid. Stuff that will make people think. Even if it’s not what you’d originally planned, don’t give up. Show them you can pivot and still create something wonderful and interesting.”
“I’ll call him as soon as we eat,” I said, trying to wrap my head around what she’d said. It wasn’t the story I wanted, but it was the one that was potentially available to me. Right now. And I didn’t have time to be picky.
“Cheer up,” Aunt Meg said, winking. “There’s cherry pie for dessert.
I smiled in spite of the churning in my stomach.
I honestly didn’t know what I would do without her.
* * *
Sam came through like a champ, and though it wasn’t the kind of interview I’d been hoping for, it was a lot of fun. The guys in his band, Crimson Edge, were happy to talk, and I got tons of anecdotes about everything from them struggling to find rehearsal space to the summer tour they’d done using Sam’s mom’s minivan to drive across the country, to a gig where the audience threw dildos at them.
I spent the next two days transcribing the four hours of recordings I had and then writing the story. Aunt Meg edited it for me, and an hour before I had to make my website live, I uploaded the final article. The band had given me a few PR photos I could use, and I’d taken a handful with my phone, so I’d done the best I could with what I had. Professor Russell would be disappointed, I know that, but as long as I passed, I didn’t care what grade he gave me.
Once it was done, I stared at the screen of my computer for a long time.
I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept much the night I’d spent with Zeke, and I hadn’t slept at all last night. My body was dragging, but my brain was still on high alert, worried and stressed and trying to navigate a plethora of emotions. I hadn’t had time to process what Zeke and I had done. Not really. Between getting fired and scrambling to finish my project, I’d been in survival mode.
And now I was in recovery mode.
I had to sleep and tomorrow I had to find another job.
Aunt Meg’s disability check wasn’t enough for us to live on, so I didn’t have a choice but to work. Two or three days a week at the resort had been plenty, but if I worked elsewhere, I’d have to get weekend shifts to make similar money. There were lots of restaurants near the mall, so that was where I’d start looking.
I needed to find something quickly, because I had bills to pay, and Aunt Meg didn’t have anything extra to give me. Not even as a loan. Her medications cost a fortune, and I didn’t mind helping out because she was finally starting to feel better. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to cook full meals, but she’d done it the last two nights like she had when I was younger. It felt good to see her moving around again, doing things she enjoyed, like cooking and scrapbooking. So, I’d do whatever I had to for her to be able to continue buying her meds.
There would be plenty of time to think about Zeke and the things we’d done together—not to mention how badly I’d screwed everything up—but not until I had a job. Everything else had to wait.
I was going to get a good night’s sleep and first thing tomorrow, I would walk into every decent restaurant in the area. By the end of the week, I intended to have a new job. Maybe even for the weekend. I’d have to train anywhere that hired me, so the sooner I started, the better.
“Are you still up?” Aunt Meg stood in the doorway of my bedroom.
I glanced up at her. “Yeah. The e-zine just went live. Now I’m trying to wind down enough to sleep.”
“You look ready to collapse. Shall I make you some chamomile tea to help you relax?”
“I can do it, Aunt Meg.” I started to get up, but she waved me back down.
