Sarah’s dad was out in Hugo checking on a complication with a pregnant mare, so Dr. Anderson was covering the afternoon at the clinic. Sarah could hear her chatting in the back room with Cheryl, the vet tech, about the doctor’s three-month-old daughter, and pictures were involved. As much as Sarah liked children, she just wasn’t in the mood for another slide show. She had already cleaned the back kennels, hosing them out and disinfecting them first thing this morning. They were spotless. No animals were boarding for the weekend, and there was nothing else to do, so Sarah sat at the desk, behind the raised counter, thinking about her plans for the night.
It was her twenty-first birthday, and in truth, she was having a hard time concentrating on anything but tonight’s plans. She had agreed to work on her birthday only so she could have off the following day. Today Sarah crossed the legal drinking age line—the last of her close friends to do so—and she wasn’t sure how she would be feeling in the morning. The original plans for the evening had boasted club hopping in Minneapolis with her brother as the designated driver. Her friends had planned to initiate Sarah into her age by hitting four or five places for maximum exposure. She knew she would probably just end up getting drunk, throwing up on someone, and feeling awful the next day, which didn’t really excite her. Sarah’s friends had tried to convince her that this was what she was supposed to do on her twenty-first birthday, but she wasn’t buying it. So she had been thrilled a week ago when the plans had changed.
Now, they were all going to the sold-out EXpireD concert at the Lindbergh Theatre. Tickets were impossible to get, but Will had assured her that he had it all arranged and they were going to celebrate her birthday at the show.
“Will,” she whispered, thinking about their plans. She still couldn’t believe she was going to meet him—the guy from the Internet. It just wasn’t like her to be so reckless. She normally didn’t talk to strangers on the phone for hours and hours, share her most personal secrets with them, and then agree to meet them in person.
Am I crazy? she pondered.
She knew this wasn’t the type of thing smart girls did. She was usually so cautious. But in truth, she was tired of always doing the right thing. She wanted to listen to her heart, not her head, for once. There was something intriguing about relinquishing control and letting fate take over that just felt right this time.
“Will,” she whispered again to herself, remembering back to how excited she’d been when she saw his username pop up on her screen after their first chat. She had just finished making a quick comment on someone’s dissertation of the gossip site. A guy had written a three-hundred-word blog post about how celebrities deserved what they got from the press. The post was linked to an article about a well-known comedian who had gotten arrested after he smashed a guy’s phone. Apparently the guy had taken a picture of the comedian using the urinal before the incident, but the comedian still got arrested.
The blogger’s point was that celebrities got paid a ton of money; therefore, they should have to put up with people snapping pictures of them. It was part of the deal, in his opinion.
Sarah volleyed back. “Was the guy taking the picture paying the comedian?”
That’s when Cracked23 joined in. “Good point, Supermodel.”
His comment made her laugh. She couldn’t believe he had remembered her. Quickly, it seemed as if they had slipped into their own chat room. She lost all track of time, spoke with him on the website for another hour, and ended up late for class, but she didn’t care. She was thrilled just to have found him again.
She met up with Will several more times online over the days that followed. She logged on to the site a couple of times a day, searching for him, hoping to find him, and when she did, she relished in their conversations. She spent that whole first week walking around campus wondering whether each guy she passed on the sidewalk or in the hall was him. When Will admitted that he lived in Los Angeles, her heart sank. She knew she would never get to meet him. Though the distance disappointed her, it also freed her. She opened up to him in ways she had never done before with anyone, and it felt so right. She told him everything—how she didn’t think she would ever trust a man enough to fall in love, how her biggest fear was never being taken seriously as a writer, and how she liked to sing pop songs in the shower—every single thought that burst into her head.
And now she was going to meet him. Without any walls to hide behind, she felt so exposed. He knew her better than most of her friends, maybe even better than her best friend, Jessica. It felt that way sometimes, the way he was able to almost read her mind. She felt a connection to him that she didn’t know how to explain, and it scared her to death.
What did she really know about him?
He had worked for his dad, a director, when he was younger. But when she asked what he had done, he said it was nothing exciting, and seemed embarrassed to tell her. She knew that Will had not gone to college. He could have, his grades were good enough, but like most people, once he started working, he found it too hard to give up his paycheck to go back to school, and Sarah thought this might be why he was insecure about his job. She pictured him fetching coffee for Julia Roberts or holding up lighting shields to prevent shadows on Jake Gorboni’s face. His dad had most likely gotten him the job, and that probably embarrassed him.
She knew that Will really didn’t like to talk about his family very much, but she didn’t know why. She figured he would tell her about them when he was ready. She didn’t even know his last name. He said he didn’t want to share that detail until he met her, since his dad was fairly well known and he didn’t want her prejudging him because of some Internet story about his family. She’d tried Googling movie directors to figure out who he was, but nothing matched. Will didn’t even have a social network account. He was kind of mysterious, and that was captivating to Sarah.
Sarah also knew that Will was super funny and always made her laugh. He was intelligent and enjoyed reading. He had read as many books as she had, which was rare for most of the guys she dated. He actually enjoyed talking about what was happening in other parts of the world and rarely bored her with sports talk.
She would be seeing him tonight, and there was one thing she was still uneasy about. Will had described himself to her as six foot one, “decent looking,” but he didn’t want to exchange pictures. He wanted it to be a surprise, and that was the part that made her the most nervous. She was worried that this guy she was so attracted to intellectually might not spark her attention physically—or worse, he might not find her attractive. She had been worrying about this for a week now, ever since she found out he was coming for a visit.
She contemplated this as she sat at the reception desk. She knew looks weren’t everything. She had dated good-looking guys before, but never felt the attraction for them that she felt for Will. She had dated intellectual guys before, but never felt the connection she did with Will. So what if he wasn’t a hottie? She knew she would give him a chance even if he had an evil twin growing out of his back, but she hoped he didn’t.
Just then, her phone vibrated, and a huge smile spread across her face. She slid her index finger across the touch screen and raised the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Will.”
“Hey, beautiful. Happy birthday.”
“Shut up! You don’t even know what I look like.”
“I can tell you’re beautiful inside and out. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I think I may be in love with you.”
“Quit saying stuff like that, or I’ll think you’re a stalker,” she blurted out louder than she should have. This wasn’t the first time he had said this. He had joked about being in love with her a few times over the last month. She fiddled with the papers in front of her. She was getting more and more nervous about their meeting, and his teasing wasn’t making her feel any better.
“I’m just messing with you, Sarah. I know you’re at work, so I’ll keep to the reason I called. My flight is running late, and I’ll have to meet you
at the show. Just tell them your name at the door. The guys in the band are good friends of mine, so they’ll take really good care of you. I promise! Only five of you, right?”
“Yep, six with you.”
“Jeff’s coming?”
“Are you kidding? My brother would disown me if I didn’t bring him. EXpireD is his favorite band. He’s been talking about it all week. Besides, he and Jessica are pretty inseparable lately. It’s been a while since they’ve spent a Friday night apart.”
“Sarah, I have a few surprises for you, so just take it as it comes, OK?”
“Not too many?”
“Only good ones. See you tonight, Birthday Girl.”
“Can’t wait.”
As she set down her phone, Sarah melted back in her chair, anticipating what the night would bring, somehow knowing that her life would never be the same.
Meanwhile, Jonathan sat staring out the plane window, fidgeting with the phone in his hand. The plane was getting ready to take off, and he had just finished his call to Sarah when the announcement came prohibiting the use of electronic devices.
He wore his usual travel attire—a baseball cap, jeans, a vintage T-shirt, an edgy black jacket, and combat boots. He liked to be comfortable when he traveled, and he hoped no one would recognize him. He looked around the first-class cabin, keeping the bill of his hat down and making sure not to make eye contact with anyone.
Sam Kachinske sat next to him, and most of the other seats were filled with gray-haired couples or business travelers. Jonathan had traveled with Sam many times before, and he trusted him with his life. He was an ex–police officer who had quit the force after losing his partner to a gunshot wound. It was mostly his wife’s persistence that had made him switch to a career in security, and now that they had children, he was glad he had made the change. Sam was a big man with broad shoulders and bulky muscles, the kind of guy whose sheer size intimidated practically everyone. He was thirty-one, had dark hair cut in a military flattop, olive skin, and a square jaw. He was pleasant, once you got to know him, and Jonathan chatted with him a little before opening his book.
“Big night ahead,” Sam said in his husky voice. “You sure you want to go through with this, Jon?”
“I’m kind of committed now. We’re pulling away from the gate.”
“We’ve got the whole flight. There’s still time to back out. I know security will be amped at the concert for you, but”—he looked at him inquisitively—“something tells me that nothing I say will change your mind.”
“Nope,” Jonathan said, reaching up to adjust the air valve that was blasting musty air in his face.
The FASTEN SEAT BELT sign flashed on, and the flight attendant came around to make sure everyone had what they needed before takeoff. Jonathan was too nervous to get anything out of the book, so he stowed it in the pocket of his chair. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but tonight. He was excited to finally see Sarah, to connect a face with her personality. He wanted to study her face when she said something sarcastic like, “You think so?” or “Really?” He imagined she would speak with the slightest smirk.
As much as he anticipated the night ahead, he was also dreading it. He knew the horror he was about to release on Sarah’s world. He lived with the destruction of the paparazzi every day and didn’t want her to have to deal with it as well. He thought he was being selfish dragging her into his world. He wished he could protect her. He didn’t want to share her with the photographers or the media. He didn’t want them to stalk her or lie about her. He didn’t want people to hate her just because she was out with him. Jonathan knew all this would happen if she was seen with him, and he loathed himself for involving her. But he yearned for her to be a part of his life, and he didn’t know what else to do. Jonathan felt guilty about not really giving her a choice, yet he was sure she would say, “Bring it,” and she would mean it—probably.
Jonathan and Sarah had spent hours talking about celebrities, their fans, and the press. She always said she didn’t understand why people obsessed over celebrities. “They’re just human and not any more special than you or me,” she had told him. That’s when Jonathan started to think he might be able to trust her with his secret. Now, he was certain he could trust her. She seemed to be such a part of him already. Jonathan knew tonight would be the litmus test, though, and there would be no going back.
Sarah, Jessica, Jeff, Alli, and Megan inched their way closer to the front of the line. They had gotten there at six and followed the crowd all the way around the building in the scorching heat. It was ninety-four degrees, humid and sticky, with very little breeze breaking around the tall buildings that surrounded the Lindbergh Theatre. Heat emanated from the cement sidewalk, the street, and every rock set in the exterior of the old stone building—taunting them as they walked. Sarah was glad she had worn layers, but she was down to her last, a tank top with a flirty miniskirt, and as much as she yearned to be cooler, she couldn’t remove any more clothing. She was carrying her blouse and her black fitted jacket over her arm, wishing she had worn lower heels. The rest of her friends were faring about the same in the heat, and everyone was complaining, especially Megan.
“I don’t even know why I bothered putting makeup on before we left. It’s dripping off my face. Seriously, can it get any hotter?” Megan grumbled. “You don’t have an electric fan in that mammoth bag of yours, do you?” Her short blonde hair flipped back as she turned to her redheaded friend.
“No, but I have sunscreen and water if you want it,” Alli answered, pulling a bottle of water out of her bag.
“Now you tell us.” Megan grabbed the bottle. She gulped down about a third of the liquid before passing it to Sarah. As the bottle made its way around the group, Megan asked, “They have food in there, right? I missed lunch, and I’m starved.”
“Yeah, I checked online,” answered Jessica.
Ten minutes later, when the group approached the glass double doors leading into the theater, they could feel the cool air spilling out onto the sidewalk and were glad to be finally getting some relief after the last hour in the sun. The middle-aged woman at the ticket counter looked annoyed as Sarah and her group approached without tickets in hand.
“Tickets, please,” the woman barked in a smoker’s voice.
“We were told to give you my name and our tickets would be waiting for us at the front desk here?” Sarah questioned. She wasn’t sure what the procedure was for getting will-call tickets.
The woman simply pointed to her left at a sign that read VIP ENTRANCE. There was no line there, so the group headed toward the other entrance, where a man in his early twenties sat wearing jeans and a band T-shirt. On the table in front of him was a pile of papers and a walkie-talkie.
Sarah spoke up. “I’m supposed to pick up tickets for Sarah Austin and friends.”
The man looked on his list, and as he rummaged through the box at his feet, he said, “You should have come in through the VIP door. It’s crazy hot out there.” The group just looked back at him, dumbfounded. From the box, he pulled out five rectangular VIP backstage passes on black strings. The man smiled as he handed them out. “Let me get someone to bring you back,” he said, then called back on the walkie-talkie.
Sarah and her friends slipped the passes over their heads and looked at each other, stunned that they were actually getting to go backstage.
A short guy with bleached-blond hair, wearing a black T-shirt that read EXpireD Crew in yellow letters, approached and proclaimed, “Hi, I’m Max. I’ll take you back. Just follow me. There’s only about an hour before EXpireD hits the stage, so there won’t be much time to visit with the band. The opener is just about to start.”
“I didn’t know your friend Will was so well connected,” Jeff said to his sister.
“He said he was friends with some of the guys in the band, but I didn’t know we would get to go backstage,” she admitted. “He did say he had some surprises for me, though.”
Max turned arou
nd and smiled at her as if he knew some big secret that she wasn’t in on. They followed him through an unmarked door and down a long cement hallway. The sound echoed as they clattered in their heels. Feeling a chill from the air-conditioning, Sarah paused to put her blouse and jacket back on. At the end of the hallway, Max led them through a second door that was guarded by a beefy woman in a black security T-shirt.
The smell of tacos and stale beer wafted through the air inside the large, open room. There were about fifteen people, some sitting in various chairs and some standing. On the couch in the center of the room sat a strikingly handsome man with long, dark cornrowed hair. He sat between two women—a tall, thin blonde and a shorter, obviously surgically enhanced, well-endowed brunette. Several people gathered around the couch and were talking animatedly to each other. Everyone was very casually dressed in jeans, and Sarah started to feel awkward in her mini and heels.
Sarah and her friends looked around the large room. They noted a long banquet-style table in the corner farthest from the door. A small steam table sat near a pile of plates on one end, and the rest of the table was cluttered with half-empty crystal platters. On the floor below the table sat a stainless steel cooler with a fluorescent-orange sticker that bellowed LOAD LAST. It was scratched and dented and obviously the band’s own personal stash. The group couldn’t see what kind of food was on the table from where they were standing, but by the way the room smelled, there had to be tacos somewhere. They were all hungry and dehydrated, so they felt relieved that getting some sustenance might still be possible.
As Sarah and her friends gawked at the food table, a tall, thin, pale man with perfectly messed black emo hair that hung in his eyes approached Sarah. Offering his hand, he asked with a very charming British accent, “Are you the Birthday Girl?”
Sarah nodded.
“I’m Nick Reyes.” He cleared his throat and magically commanded the attention of everyone in the room. “This is Charlie”—Nick waved a hand around the room—“Marc, Amanda, Tiz, Hayden, Nacho, and everybody else. Hey, everyone, these are Will’s friends.”
Between the Raindrops Page 3