by Amy L. Gale
My heart pounds as footsteps grow closer. Ok, second impressions are just as important as first ones. There’s still time to get on my boss’s good side. I take a deep breath and turn my chair toward the door. I exhale and sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint, neighbor. Is this seat taken?” Jake plops a manila folder on the table and sips his coffee. “Expecting Brad Pitt or something?”
I’m really nailing the second impressions so far. I grab a pen from the table and chew on the top. “I was hoping he’d be my first assignment.”
Jake sits down and flashes a half smile. “Wow, you’re aiming high. Mine was a dog wedding.”
We both burst into laughter.
I glance at his warm brown eyes and sweet smile. At least I’ve made one friend, and he’s easy on the eyes too.
A small army of people file through the door and take seats around the table. I tap my pen along my lips, waiting for the festivities to begin. Jane bursts through the door and plops a slew of files on the table.
“Alright everyone, let’s get started so we can continue with our day. Today I want to focus on Entertainment Rocks!’s new agenda. We’re going to be shifting our focus from pop culture to music, television, and movies. I want to see up and coming new talent grace our pages before another publication snags the story. I’ve got assignments for everyone which Claire will be distributing later today. I expect nothing but 110%. I’ve got a conference call in five minutes. Any questions?”
The room is so silent we could probably hear an ant crawl.
“Good, carry on with your day.” Jane rushes out of the room, her heels smacking against the tile like a battle cry.
Claire steps inside and lugs the paperwork out to her desk.
I push my chair back and slide out from under the table, knocking one of my ink pens to the floor. Jake grabs it and stands up next to me. “Brad Pitt interview may be on the table.”
I giggle. “Or maybe his dog’s wedding.” I grip my legal pad close to my chest. “Are the meetings always this short?”
He shrugs. “Depends on the Boss Lady’s mood. Always unpredictable.”
Great. Maybe my best bet is to steer clear of her until she actually wants to talk to me. Then maybe I can have a conversation face to face rather than floor to face. We all file out of the meeting room, and I retreat back to my desk. I’ll try out some of these passwords before lunch. I glance at my phone next to the keyboard, no new calls.
***
“Ahh,” Chloe runs at me at warp speed and pulls me into a bear hug. “How’s the first day going Ms. Reporter Extraordinaire?” Chloe locks her arm around mine and trots down the sidewalk toward Café L’amore.
“Fell face first in front of my boss and acted like a teenager from back in the day who just met Elvis, you know, typical day.” I shrug.
“Ouch.” She grimaces. “No worries, nothing a café latte can’t fix.”
Ah, if only life was that simple. I give her arm a quick squeeze. Maybe I don’t have the best luck when it comes to guys, but I hit the lottery when it comes to best friends. The aroma of fresh baked bread and coffee greet me as I step inside Café L’amore. My mouth waters as I walk up to the counter to order.
“No way, I’ve got lunch today. We’re still celebrating.” Chloe steps in front of me and leans over the counter. “We’ll take two café lattes, two turkey Reubens and two raspberry cookies.”
I grab a few napkins and head over to a secluded table by the window. Chloe follows a few steps behind.
I sling my purse over the chair and slide into the seat. “Thanks, Chlo.”
She swats her hand through the air. “Oh please, you deserve it.” She sets our buzzer on the table and sinks into her seat. “Time to spill it, what happened with the hottie you went home with Friday night.”
Ugh, I guess I have to relive this disaster of a night one more time. “We hooked up, he took me to breakfast, then never called me.” I look down at the table, then back up at her.
Chloe puts her hand over her mouth, slowly dropping it. “What an asshole. He slipped right under my radar. Plus, he’s the only guy who could actually keep up with you on the dance floor.” She puts her hand over mine. “I bet he’s psychotic.”
We break down into a mess of giggles. “They’re the ones I usually attract.”
Bright red lights dance in a circle, blaring like a beacon. “Order’s up, be right back.” Chloe hops out of her chair and heads to the counter.
I just don’t get it. What was the whole point in taking me to his ‘special breakfast spot’ if he wanted to ditch me? He could’ve just said goodbye and left my house, never looking back. Does he think everyone he hooks up with deserves a meal?
Chloe sets the tray on the table and settles back in. She sips her coffee. “Enough about him, so what else happened at work?”
I bite my turkey Reuben and then set it on my plate. “When I was taking that selfie, the guy in the cubicle next to me came over to say hi. He’s kinda nice.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Is he hot?”
I sip my coffee and set the cup down. “He’s really cute but conservative, safe. You know, the kind of guys we should hang out with but never do.”
Chloe breaks her cookie in half and nibbles at it. “Yeah, those bad boys are just so damn irresistible, but never worth the trouble.” She sips her coffee. “Let’s make a pact, no more hot, sexy-as-hell guys who are everything we want and nothing we need.”
I bite my cookie and raise my eyebrows. “Wow, don’t make it sound so fun.” I finish the last bite of my sandwich. “One exciting thing happened, well is about to happen.”
“Ooh, do tell.”
“I get my first assignment this afternoon.”
Chloe drops her cookie and claps. “Oh my God this is big news, any idea what it is?”
I shake my head. “All I know is it’s something to do with movies, music, or television.”
“This is so awesome. All exciting topics.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “You’ve got to call me as soon as you find out what it is. Who knows, maybe you’ll get to interview someone famous.”
I hold up my hands. “Doubtful, but I’m going to have my name on a byline in a national magazine.” An ear to ear smile graces my face. “I might frame it.”
“I want an autographed copy.” She finishes the last bite of her cookie. “We’ve got to celebrate, your first byline.”
Uh, yeah because our last celebration went down so well. “How about we keep it simple, pizza and wine coolers at my apartment.” I slug the rest of my coffee.
Chloe lowers her eyebrows and tilts her head. “What are we, sixteen? We are going to dinner and a club Friday night, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Lovely, another disaster of a night waiting to happen. Ok, dinner and a club but she didn’t mention anything about drinking. I nod. “Deal.”
***
Note to self, if I ever plan on being on time, factor in the busy elevator. I get it, the building rivals a New York City skyscraper but I can scale the building faster than waiting for the elevator to make it to the lobby. I stare at the shiny silver doors willing them to open. Ugh, I’ve got to get to my desk before our assignments are given out. No need to add tardy to the list of qualities branded on me today.
The bell rings, echoing through the foyer like an angel’s choir. Thank God. I step inside and press six. It lights up, glowing like a firefly. Footsteps pound against the foyer floor as if a stampede of wild cattle are charging toward me. I step back and press my body against the cool metal wall.
A slew of people step inside, holding the door for more. I’m like a sardine, trapped in a tin box. The crew starts pressing buttons as soon as the elevator doors start to close. I peek my head around a tall man in a pinstriped suit who clearly chose to bathe in cheap cologne. I cover my mouth and cough. You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re stopping at every floor? Figures.
A briefcase slides in between the doors right befor
e they close, sending the steel panels back to their opening position. I let out a loud sigh. Really? It’s not like there’s an inch of room for anyone else. Great. I’ll probably get stuck in here and asphyxiate.
Jake drops his briefcase to the floor and lifts his arm to slide in between Mr. Pinstripes and a woman yakking on her cell phone. “Thanks for waiting.”
Low pitched grumbles fill the small space.
He nods toward me. “Claire always starts in the front cubicles so by the time she gets to us we’ll be on our third game of solitaire.”
My tense muscles relax. “Guess it’s not always bad to be last.”
The elevator stops, letting a few people out, then stops again, lessening the crowd. I stare up at the large numbers above the doorway, biting my lip. Yes! Floor six. The doors open, exposing the shiny white tiles. I suck in a deep breath and charge toward the doorway, nudging Jake on the way.
He grabs his briefcase and stomps forward to keep up. “Are we racing?”
I slow my pace. “Sorry. Guess I’m over eager.”
I turn the corner and gaze at Claire handing out file folders. Jeez, she’s already in the middle of the second row. My fingers tremble.
Jake grabs my hand. “Relax, we’ve got this.” He pulls me down the first aisle to a small space between the wall and edge of the cubicles. “Secret passageway.”
I hold up my arms and slide in between the small space, grazing my suit jacket against the textured wall. For the love of God, please don’t let me rip it. I make it past the first row, now on to the second. I glide by and turn, gripping the edge of my cubicle panel. My breathing slows to an acceptable rate, and I pull down my suit jacket, trying to restore it to its former glory. I plop in my chair and fan my blonde strands around my shoulders. Yes. Made it.
Claire pops her head in my cubicle. “Allison, how’s your first day going?” She sets a file folder on my desk.
I flash a quick smile and grab the folder. “Definitely memorable.”
“Good luck with your first assignment.” She turns and walks toward Jake’s cubicle.
I run my fingers along the black letters, Reporter Allison Whitman. A kaleidoscope of butterflies flutter in my stomach. My lips upturn into an ear to ear smile, so wide my cheeks hurt. The words I’ve waited to see are right in front of me.
***
I slam my shifter into park and pull open the door of my silver Toyota Camry. This is it, my first assignment. I slide my hand across the gray leather and glance at the top sheet of paper in my file folder. Okay, so it’s not exactly what I expected, but I’ve got to hit this one out of the park if I want to make a name for myself. I’m a professional, and I can handle whatever they throw at me. Now, if I can only trick my mind into believing it. I grab my folders and trek toward the tall, red brick building with the large black door.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Come on Ali, you can do this. I exhale and walk forward. Why couldn’t I have gotten Jake’s assignment about the pilot of a new television comedy? I mean, I watch TV all the time. But no, I get an up and coming metal band. The research I’ll need to do just to come up with five hundred words may take me weeks. I’m so out of my league.
I clutch my folder to my chest and trudge up the concrete stairway. Please don’t let them be doing anything illegal. Getting bailed out of jail for any drug offenses is not on my list of things to do today. God knows what a metal band does for fun.
I press the buzzer and wait by the door. My whole body trembles as I stare at the intercom.
“Come on up.” A female voice resonates through the air.
My heart pounds. Oh God, there’s nothing in this file that says anything about a girl being in the band. Did they send me the right information? I frantically leaf through the papers in the folder. Come on Ali, get a hold of yourself. Maybe it’s a groupie or one of the band members’ girlfriend.
“Hello, you coming?”
I clear my throat and press the buzzer. “Yes, be right up.”
I pull open the heavy door and step into the stairwell. Well, it’s now or never. Please don’t let someone be biting the head off a bat or performing any other equally disturbing rituals. I swallow hard and head up the steps to 1C. How ridiculous, I’m meeting a metal band, not walking into a prison. I steady my shaking hand and knock at the door. In a half-hour this will all be over, and I’ll be on my way to having my first byline published.
The door swings open at warp speed. I gasp and freeze in the doorway, paralyzed. A cold burst travels to my core. This can’t be happening.
CHAPTER 3—THE INTERVIEW
“You plan on coming inside or doing the interview from there?” A gorgeous blonde walks toward me with her arms folded, her black stilettos pound against the hardwood floor with every step.
I shake my head and compose myself. “Uh, sorry” I take a few steps forward and close the door behind me. Last time I experienced anything like this was in a demented dream sequence. I doubt Thor is going to show up, swing his hammer, and whisk me away to Asgard. Nope, I made this bed. Guess I’ve got to lay in it.
Tyler’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Ali?” He scrunches his eyebrows.
The blonde huffs. “Looks like I’ll be handling the introductions.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Jenna Crane, and it seems like you and Tyler already know each other.”
I raise my trembling hand and shake hers. “Yes, I’m Ali Whitman from Entertainment Rocks! magazine… Umm…. I’m here to interview Devil’s Garden.” I let go of her hand and step back. Technically, I know Tyler very well, yet he’s still a complete stranger.
She looks at Tyler and then back at me. “Whatever, come on, the guys are in the practice room.” She heads through the doorway.
I watch her disappear into the hall. What are the chances? Tyler works for Devil’s Garden? He mentioned a recording studio. He’s probably their sound tech or something. Maybe he’ll leave and by some miracle I can pull off this interview.
She peeks her head back in. “Uh, you guys coming?”
Tyler clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah” He looks over at me and flashes a half smile. “Ladies first.” He gestures toward the doorway.
I smile and proceed forward. He can skip the gentleman routine. I mean, hello, nice guys call you the day after they’ve spent the night in your apartment. Not that any of it matters now, I’m a professional, and I’m here to get the story.
Tan walls adorned with a few rock posters lead to the intricate metal ceilings. It’s beautiful, just like I stepped backed in time. My shoe catches on the lip of the floor divider, skidding across the hardwood. I step forward, trying to prevent myself from plummeting down. No such luck. My papers fly across the room, and my briefcase slides down the hallway.
Tyler holds out his arm, catching me a few inches before I hit the floor. “Didn’t I tell ya not to fall for me?” He winks.
Why am I so uncoordinated? I could probably hurt myself in a cardboard box. Note to self, flat shoes only from here on in. So much for showing off my professionalism. And who the hell does he think he is? He never even bothered to call me after he said he would. Then he thinks we’re just going to start back where we left off. Yeah, not happening.
Jenna looks back over her shoulder and lowers her eyebrows. “You sure you’re up for this? Maybe I should do the interview and send it to ya.”
Wow, she must be a joy to be around twenty-four/seven. I get it, she’s beautiful, and guys probably fall all over her regardless of how she acts, but it wouldn’t kill her to behave semi-human. I scurry to pick up my paperwork. Great, it’ll take me forever to reorganize this mess. Please let my interview questions be intact. What the hell, at this point, I’ll wing it. “I’m ready, where’s the practice room?”
She gestures with her hands like she’s landing an airplane. If she had neon lights she’d be in her glory.
I take a deep breath and walk into the dimly lit room. The drumbeat resonates through t
he air, echoing against the dark carpeted walls. Huh, guess the place is sound proofed. My shoes sink into the soft burgundy carpet as I continue forward, paying careful attention to my footing.
Jenna jumps on the black leather sectional next to a man playing a guitar. I glance at his thick brown hair and watch his fingers move across the strings flawlessly as if they’re programmed to do so.
The drummer swings his drumsticks through his fingers and stands up from the seat behind his drums. “Awesome. Looks like the babes are being delivered to us. I love this city.”
Jenna shakes her head. “No dumbass, she’s interviewing you guys for Entertainment Rocks! magazine.” She runs her hands through the guitar player’s hair.
The drummer struts forward, still sliding his drumstick along the fingers of his right hand. He runs his tongue along his top lip and raises his eyebrows. “I’m Chaz. Got a name, babe?”
Tyler steps forward and hands me a paper I must’ve lost in the hallway. “Her name’s Ali and forget about it.”
Chaz holds up his hands, gripping his drumstick with his pinky. “Didn’t know you had dibs, dude.”
Tyler shakes his head. “Just ignore him. The rest of us do.” He slides his hand in the small of my back and leads me to the couch.
I squirm away from him and sink into the cool leather. No way in hell I’m ever letting him put his hands on me again. And I don’t need him to be my hero. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Why is he still here anyway? He should be doing whatever it is he does at the recording studio. I set the papers on top of my briefcase and click open my pen.