by Amy L. Gale
I lift my head and stare as a man who could easily be mistaken for a Greek God turns the corner carrying a microphone stand and joins us. Maybe Thor is coming to save me. His chiseled body accentuated by his tight black T-shirt could stop traffic, but those emerald green eyes are the most magnificent I’ve ever seen.
“Hey, Ali.” I jerk back, sending my pen rolling across the floor. “Since I’m doing the introductions, this is my husband Marcus, and the guy you’re ogling at is Van.”
Van nods toward me. “Hey.” He sets the microphone stand near the drum set.
Heat fills my cheeks and my stomach hardens. Wow, the only thing that would make this better is if I spontaneously burst into flames. Can it get any worse?
“Oh, and that’s Van’s fiancée, Lexie.” Jenna’s voice drips with sarcasm. She waves at a woman who had just emerged in the doorway.
I gaze at the brunette in the doorway. If I don’t get my ass kicked by one of these girls, I’ll call it a win. Wow, Lexie’s not what I expected. She’s cute but not a knockout like Jenna. Maybe there’s more to Van than meets the eye.
She walks forward toward the couch, her lips in a thin line.
Either this room isn’t as sound proof as I thought or Jenna’s voice can break the barrier. Except for the drummer who wants to fuck me, I’m pretty much not wanted by anyone else here, and Lexie probably wants to kill me. Great, no one will even be able to hear my cries for help in here.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Come on Ali, get it together; you’ve got a Master’s Degree in Journalism and a B.A. in English, no reason to let a few musicians ruin your first assignment.
I exhale slowly, open my eyes, and sit up straight. “If you’re all ready, I’d like to get started now.” I rummage through a few sheets of my papers and click open my pen.
“Oh babe, I’m always ready.” Chaz blows me a kiss and winks.
Tyler reaches around and slaps him in the back of the head.
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Chaz. It won’t kill you to be serious for like, ten minutes.”
Chaz shrugs. “Never kept it in my pants for that long.”
Jenna grabs a gray pillow from the couch and throws it at him.
Jake probably had an easier time conducting interviews for the dog wedding. It’s like I traveled back in time to middle school and I’m dealing with a bunch of horny twelve-year-olds. Arrogant rockers might even be worse. How did this band make it? I mean, I get it they’re the-rules-don’t-apply-to-me rockers, but a certain amount of professionalism needs to exist. Or at least maturity for that matter.
Chaz plops on the couch next to me and slides his arm around my shoulder. “Go for it! Analyze me, babe. I’m an open book.” He raises his eyebrows.
The aroma of pungent deodorant burns through my nostrils. Dear God, get him off me. I reach around and pick up his hand, throwing it off my shoulder and move forward toward the edge of the cushion.
Tyler sighs. “Get away from her before she catches something.” He kicks Chaz’s boot.
“I love it when you babes play hard to get.” He winks and heads back to his drum set.
Tyler sits down next to me. He runs a hand through his hair. “What’s your first question?”
Wait a minute. I run my pen along my bottom lip. Oh my God, Tyler’s in the band. How did I overlook this? I rummage through a few more papers and pull out my detail sheet. Devil’s Garden, an up and coming metal band, is in Los Angeles recording their new album. Originally from Silent Springs, Kansas, the band was founded by four high school classmates, Van Sinclair, Marcus Crane, Tyler Young, and Chaz Nicols, whose unique heavy music along with powerful vocals catapulted the band into widespread success. Their third album will be launched a few weeks before their international tour begins.
A wave of nausea flows through my body, spewing a sour tang in my mouth. Great, nothing like having a one-night stand with some rocker who probably screws everyone and anyone. No wonder he didn’t call me. Guess he can’t keep up with his army of floozies. I should take off running and head for a blood test. No more drinking… ever.
I swallow hard, trying to hold my stomach contents inside my body and turn toward Tyler. “What makes Devil’s Garden different than other metal bands?”
“Kick ass drum beats, babe.” Chaz pounds out a quick drum solo and tosses a stick in the air, catching it in his teeth.
Marcus throws his hands in the air. “Dude, turn it down a notch. It’s not the Chaz show.”
Van settles in the leather chair across from us. “Lots of different styles influence our music. It’s like a mix of blues, rock, and metal.”
Finally, a half way decent answer. How the hell am I going to come up with an article that doesn’t belong in a letter to Penthouse? I jot down a few notes and flip to a clean sheet of paper. Lexie slides onto Van’s lap and wraps her arms around him. Holy hell, that rock is huge. I squint as her diamond reflects off the dim light, casting a rainbow of colors onto the dark walls.
Maybe I can smooth things over with Lexie. I’m sure she’s used to girls gawking at her hot piece of man candy all the time. Oh God, now I’m in that category. First, a one night stand with a band member and then getting caught admiring the sexy singer. I’ve got to learn to get it together or this business will eat me alive. I turn my gaze toward her and smile. “Your ring is gorgeous. When’s the big day.”
She lowers her eyebrows and then smiles. “Thanks. We’re thinking a beach wedding in June.”
Ah, my kind of girl. “Beach weddings are beautiful. Make sure you have a sand ceremony. It’s really nice.” I pull a business card out from briefcase. “I’ll leave you one of these in case you need any wedding advice from one of our event planners or fashion reporters.”
She twirls her hair around a finger. “I might just take you up on that.” She sits up and leans forward. “I know I’m biased, but another thing that separates Devil’s Garden from other metal bands is their interactions with the fans.” She looks over at Van and then back at me. “Believe me, it’s not all that enjoyable for Jenna and I, but Devil’s Garden makes sure they spend at least an hour with their fans backstage.”
That’s pretty cool, spending time with the fans is important. Wait a minute. My stomach turns. I bet Chaz and Tyler spend more time with the fans than the other guys, they are both single. Images of half-naked women flash through my mind. God Dammit, it’s like I’m a groupie. Tyler just used me and threw me away. Yeah, great way to treat your fans. A few more questions and I’m out of here.
“What can fans expect from album number three?” I tap my pen on my lip.
“Hard, catchy guitar riffs, some pretty heavy songs, but also something new for Devil’s Garden, a few ballads.” Marcus strums a sweet melody.
“I die a little each time I’m forced to play them.” Chaz taps the snare drum with a stick.
“God bless the poor chick who gets you.” Tyler shakes his head.
Whatever. Every second I spend listening to Chaz makes me want to blow out my eardrums. I bet women backstage sit and listen to his degrading words as if they’re the meaning of life. “What’s the best thing about touring the country?”
Tyler runs a hand through his hair. “Freedom. Never being tied down to a boring life where you do the same thing day in day out. Every day is an adventure.”
Ah, maybe I’m too boring for him. Glad I could fulfill his daily adventure. Maybe actually calling me would infringe on his freedom. Jerk.
I bite at my pen cap. “Where’s Devil’s Garden going in the next few years?”
“Straight to the top, baby.” Chaz points at the ceiling. “Hell, yeah!”
Cheers fill the small space. Wow, it’s like I’m back at high school at a pep rally.
“How about the girls, I know Lexie’s planning a wedding. Any plans for you Jenna, maybe kids in the future.”
She flinches and wrinkles her nose. “Um, yeah I don’t plan on ruining my body, plus the road is
no place for kids.”
Van turns his emerald eyes toward mine. “We’re going to keep rockin’ and meeting new fans.”
Tyler leans back against the couch. “Heading to new places and living the dream.”
Yeah, I’m sure he lives it up every night. Finally, last question. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
“Easy, Tavarua Island, Fiji.” Tyler flashes a sexy half smile.
Wow, that’s random. He probably saw some chick in a magazine he wanted to bang. I doubt he has any interest in the culture or seeing the landmarks.
“Brazil, baby. They’ve got hot chicks down there.” Chaz licks his lips.
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like they’d want anything to do with you.” She flicks her hair over a shoulder. “I can’t wait to go to Paris, heard the shopping’s great and the tour’s headed there next year.”
Three years of French in high school plus a year in college and I never even got the chance to use it. Maybe someday I’ll get there. I slide my hand down to the end of the paper. “What do you want the world to know about Devil’s Garden?”
“We’re all about the fans, especially the really hot ones.” Chaz winks.
Tyler runs his hands through his hair. “The fans are why we play.”
So that translates into ‘we play so we can bang hot chicks.’ Typical. My lips pinch together. Why do all rockers think they’re God’s gift to women? Like we should be honored to be with them for one night? Damn Chloe and her need to celebrate everything. My life was perfectly fine until I woke up next to him. I inadvertently glare at Tyler.
He scrunches his eyebrows. “Need any more from us?”
I toss my papers into my briefcase and snap it shut. “Nope, I got enough from you.” Much more than I needed.
I stand up and take a few steps toward the doorway.
Tyler grabs my arm. “Wait, I’ll walk you out.” He glides his fingertips along the curve in my forearm.
I pull my arm away and pat my skirt down. Why does he feel the need to see me out? We spent more than enough time together. I guess it would be rude to refuse. I balance myself with each step I take, paying careful attention to my footing. No need to fall yet again. Once I’m out of here, I’m soaking in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and congratulating myself on my first successful interview, if that’s what I should call it.
He reaches for my hand and runs a thumb along my fingers. “It was really great to see you again.”
Well, it could’ve been sooner if he knew how to dial a phone. “Yeah, the article should be in Friday’s edition.” I flash a quick smile pull my hand away. New mission, get as far away from Tyler as possible.
***
The doorbell echoes through my apartment like a choir of angels on Christmas morning. I jump out of bed, slide on my fuzzy slippers, and jog to my front door. Oh my God, it’s here. I swing open the door like the Incredible Hulk and step outside. The bright rays of the morning sun shine down, temporarily blinding me. I squint and take a step forward, stubbing my toe on the object on my doorstep. My heart races as I focus on the black letters printed across the cardboard box ‘Entertainment Rocks! magazine’. Eek! I snatch the box and hightail it to my kitchen, slamming the door on the way. Oh my God, my first byline. I slide the metal edge of the scissors along the brown packing tape and rip open the box. A glimpse of the cover peeks through the plethora of crumpled up papers and bubble wrap.
Oh my God, here it is. “Ahh” I pick up a copy of the magazine and jump up and down, hugging the periodical. I fumble through the pages as fast as humanly possible, carefully trying to prevent them from becoming bent.
A rush of adrenaline flows through me like I’m about to lay my hands on the Golden Fleece. I peruse the shiny white paper adorned with black letters ‘Devil’s Garden: Up Close and Personal as they Rock L.A. by Ali Whitman.’
I set the magazine on the table and cover my mouth with my hands, trying to suppress the few tears forming in my eyes from trickling out. I did it. I’m a published reporter. I grab the magazine again, bounce on my feet, and giggle. The sun shines through my window, illuminating the dark script. I trample through the TV room to my bedroom and launch myself on my bed.
Ah, there it is. I grab my phone from my nightstand and slide my fingers across the screen of my contacts. Time to spread the news. “Guess what came this morning?”
“Hopefully you, if you hooked up with that hottie again from the other night.” Chloe chuckles. “Just kidding, he was a jerk anyway. Hmm, let me guess. Oh my God, it came? Your magazine proof?”
I grip the magazine close to my chest. “I’m holding it right now.” I roll over on my bed and flip through the pages.
“Yay,” she screams. “I’m on my way over. We’re celebrating, Mimosas or Bloody Marys?”
I wrinkle my forehead. “How about orange juice and pancakes.”
“Oh, darling. We’re not in pre-school anymore. Now we party like big girls. See ya soon. Tootles.”
My phone beeps. I look at the screen ‘Call Ended’. Guess she’s already on her way. I glance at the magazine and run my eyes over the words ‘by Ali Whitman’ for the millionth time. My cheeks upturn into a wide smile. Ah, what the hell. If there’s ever been a time to celebrate with a few drinks before noon, this is it. I set the magazine on my nightstand and head to the bathroom to primp myself for my two person party.
***
The doorbell echoes through the air. Chloe arrives at warp speed in one of the most populated cities in America. Sometimes I think she might be a superhero in disguise. I give my hair one last spray of hairspray and skip to the door. Today’s just as exciting for Chloe as it is for me. I mean, she’s been by my side every step of the way. I swing open the door and bounce on my toes. Chloe rushes inside holding a bottle of champagne and a bottle of orange juice.
We both squeal like two girls who’ve just been asked to the prom.
She heads to the kitchen and sets the bottles on the table. “Mimosa’s are classier for this occasion. So, where is it?”
Oh my God, it’s still on my nightstand. I never thought I’d let it out of my sight. I sprint to the bedroom and slide my fingers over the sleek, shiny, cover. It gleams like a diamond. I hold it against my chest, cover outward and march toward Chloe, turning it from side to side as if it’s dancing.
She sets down the glasses she just pulled out of the cupboard and charges toward me.
“It’s beautiful.” She takes it from my hand and flips through the pages. “Ah, lucky number seventeen.” She glances at the article and then back at me. “You’re a star.” She sets the magazine on the table and pulls me into a tight hug.
“I seriously doubt that.” I turn toward the table and look at the article one more time.
She fills the glasses halfway with champagne and halfway with orange juice. “You’re definitely on your way.” She hands me a glass and lifts hers toward mine. “To many more of these celebrations. Congrats!” We clink glasses and take a sip.
She picks up the magazine. “I’m honored I’m the first to read it.” She heads to the TV room and sinks into the couch, setting her glass on the table as she holds the magazine in her lap.
I watch her eyes move from side to side, unable to peel myself away. I wanted to get published so badly I never realized there’s a change that people might hate it. What if I suck and everyone thinks I’m a horrible reporter? I nibble at my lip. What’s wrong with me? This is much worse than someone reading over your shoulder. I take a sip of my Mimosa and savor the sweet nectar gliding along my tongue. Please let her like it.
Her eyebrows scrunch together and then relax, she tilts her head to the side. “Wow, great job. You really told it how it is.”
I rub my chin. “Huh?”
She sets the magazine down. “I guess these guys are all about partying and one night stands. Good for you for telling it how it is. That’s what good reporters do, right?” She sips her Mimosa.
&nb
sp; I grab the magazine and bite my lip. Is that what she got out of my article? I read through the column filled with black text. She’s got to be reading between the lines.
***
I pull into the parking lot at Entertainment Rocks! magazine and shut down the engine. Ah, my first day of walking into work as a published reporter. I grab my briefcase, step out onto the black asphalt, and pat down my gray skirt. The bright sun warms my skin. Everything is perfect today. The birds are chirping a sweet melody, the soft breeze caresses my face, and I’m on my way to becoming a respected reporter. Hey, my first byline is definitely a start.
I take a step forward and walk right into a wall of pure muscle. Pain skyrockets from my forehead to my shoulder like a bolt of lightning. And I’ve reverted to the first-day-on-the-job Ali. Didn’t take long to regain that title.
“You ok neighbor? Hope you drive better than you walk.” Jake chuckles and runs a hand down my back.
Maybe I should start a club for people who can’t stop embarrassing themselves. I’d clearly be president. Hate to tell him, but I’m not that great of a driver either. “Sorry, new shoes.” It’s not like he’d notice my Christian Louboutins from my first day anyway. I glance at my watch. “You leaving already?”
He nods. “Yep, I’m on assignment.”
I scrunch my eyebrows. “Late for a dog wedding.”
He flashes a half grin. “Interviewing the director of that new comedy, Sliced. It’s based on a family whose father is a popular chef. Anyway, they film in the morning, so I got to head up to the studio now.” He fumbles with his keys. “Hey, congrats on your article. Brutally honest. Good for you.” He waves and hightails it to his car.
Why is everyone saying that? I read it like twenty times, and I don’t see anything remotely brutal or controversial. Either everyone else is crazy, or I’m missing something. Whatever. Everyone’s got an opinion, and I’m only concerned about Jane’s. Please let her be happy with my work.