by Maya Hughes
“I figured the musician thing was thrown in there to throw me off. Did you seriously spend the night with a famous musician? Who?” Izzy’s voice went up about two octaves.
“It’s not as scandalous as it sounds. I got food poisoning yesterday after eating some moldy take out.”
“You know I said that to you the last time I was there. Three days maximum. I swear your fridge is like some kind of scientific experiment gone awry.”
“We can’t all be domestic goddesses like yourself.” Her sister snorted. Izzy was an excellent cook and a great mom. She’d been going it all alone since her husband died a few years ago.
“I think you’re confusing basic life sustaining activities with domestic goddess-ness.”
“You cook almost every night!”
“I have a child to feed. They tend to not be too great at foraging and making their own food.”
“How is my favorite niece?”
“You mean your only niece,” Izzy deadpanned.
“Tomato-tomatoe. How’s the little munchkin?”
“Amy’s good. She’s out back with her cardboard sword and eye patch.”
“Ah, still in the pirate phase?”
“Since she has to wear the patch anyway, I figured I’d just let her run with it for as long as she wants. What were you saying about your summer classes and rent? When did you find out about that?” Keira flopped back onto the bed.
“Yesterday. It was a one two punch.”
“That sucks. Do you have savings to cover it? If not, I can try to get some money together to help you out.”
“No, Izzy. No, I’ll be fine. I’m good. I have some savings, so I’ll be fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she quipped.
“Learned from the best,” Keira said, sticking out her tongue even though her sister couldn’t see her.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth.” Her sister teased.
“How did you—”
“You’re so predictable, Keira.” She heard a banging on her sister’s end of the call. “Do not climb to the top of the swings, young lady.” She could hear her sister calling to her niece. “I have to go. Your niece is trying to give me a heart attack. Let me know if you need any help and I’m being serious and don’t be a stranger. If you don’t have summer classes then that means you can come to visit, maybe stay with us for a little bit,” she said, hopeful.
“Maybe, we’ll see. I might try to pick up an odd job here or there to cover the difference.”
“Well, if you need a place to stay, you know you’re always welcome here.”
“I know. Love you Izzy.”
“Love you Keira, bye.” She ended the call and put her phone on the bedside table. Suddenly, tired and paralyzed by the stress of trying to make sense of her life, Keira thought about how to get through the summer. Did they still pay for plasma?
Her phone vibrated on the table next to her. Glancing at it, an unknown number flashed on the screen. Surely, debt collectors couldn’t be coming after her already! She accepted the call cautiously.
“Hello?”
“Keira?”
“Yes,” she said, unsure.
“Hey, it’s Eric,” he said, brightly and she immediately relaxed. Checking the time on her computer, it had been less than forty minutes since she left. Why was he calling her?
“How would you feel about coming on tour with me?” She nearly dropped the phone and pulled it away from her face to make sure a call connected and a hallucination hadn’t started.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” she said, bringing the phone back to her face.
“How would you feel about coming on tour with me?” he said, more slowly enunciating each word.
“Why would I come on tour with you?” She was wracking her brain to try and figure out what the hell she’d do on tour with him—other than the obvious. But She didn’t think guys usually went for girls that puked on them. Was that his thing or something? Was he into girls puking on him? Damnit! Of course, he would have some weird fetish, right? He couldn’t just be a hot, multi-instrumental, soon to be world famous musician, of course there was a catch.
“My record label wants to try something new for this tour. Something to engage the fans.” That stopped her from her internal-rambling rabbit hole.
“Okay. And what does this have to do with me going on tour with you?”
“They were thinking of having a photographer travel with me on tour. To give fans an inside look at what it’s like to be out on the road. A special gift to the fans.”
“And you want me to do it?” she asked, incredulous. She’d never done anything like that before. She hadn’t ever been paid for her photography.
“I’ve seen your stuff. It’s impressive. They like the idea and I pitched you as the artist. And they said, contingent on seeing some of your work that they’d go with you.”
“Seriously?” She was glad she was already sitting on the bed, because had she been standing, she’d definitely be on the floor right now. A paying job. A paying job going on tour with Eric Newcastle. She pinched herself. Ouch, damnit! Yes, definitely real.
“Yeah, and it pays well.” He quoted her an amount that nearly made her fall off the bed. Holy shit! That would be more than enough to keep her head above water.
“That’s per month?”
“That’s per week,” he said. Her hand went numb and she dropped the phone. This time she did fall off the bed, plopping onto the floor and scrambling to pick up the phone. The dizziness she thought had been banished earlier with some rest and good food was back with a vengeance. If she got that kind of money for even a couple of months, she wouldn’t have to worry about studio rentals or not getting picked up for summer classes for a long while. Hell, with that money she could take a year off, travel and take pictures to her heart’s content. All the work in the world can’t make up for the fact that you’re such a bland artist, Keira. She winced as old memories resurfaced. But she faced her fears, determined not to let those thoughts get in the way of this opportunity.
“How long’s the tour?”
“They want to give you a trial run on the tour with Uncharted, so a couple of weeks there and then my North American tour starts and then it’s off to Europe. So, if it works well on the Uncharted tour, they’d keep you on for my solo tour. It would last the rest of the summer.”
“Wow,” she said, dumbfounded. Opportunities didn’t come up like this very often. She’d have the chance to get her photos in front of thousands of fans. Like they’re going to even care about your shitty pictures. Clenching her fists, she squeezed her eyes shut to block out the insidious voice from her past. She could make some serious money and travel around to different cities instead of being stuck in LA, possibly waiting tables this summer.
“Why me?” she said, curious about why he would give her such a huge opportunity. Please don’t say he just wants to get into her pants.
“Why not you? I’ve seen your stuff. It’s good. You could use the money, you’re off for the summer and available on short notice. Plus, you’re a friend of Mark’s.”
“And it’s not just because you want to sleep with me,” she cringed the second she said it. Did it really matter at this point? She needed the money and she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of sleeping with Eric, but with the complication of working with him thrown in there, she didn’t want to screw things up.
“I’m not offering you this so you’ll sleep with me. I’m offering you this because you’re a great artist. Not to say that I don’t find you attractive and haven’t thought about how your lips would taste since you sat next to me at the bar last night.” Her mouth hung open at his candidness. He chuckled on the other end of the line and she snapped her mouth shut.
“I’m not going to lie, Keira. I find you incredibly attractive. But if a condition to get you to come on tour with me is that we don’t sleep together, then I can abide by that. As long as you can,” he paused and she held her breath. He was a s
eriously dangerous man. But if she wanted to be taken seriously and wanted her art to stand on its own, she couldn’t have people thinking that she’d only gotten the job because she was sleeping with Eric.
Mulling it over in her head, she debated back and forth about the whole thing. What were her other options? There weren’t any. It was way too late to get classes somewhere else. Her rent was going up and she didn’t have the money to cover her portion. With this money, and exposure maybe other opportunities could come along with so many people seeing her work. She bit her bottom lip, trying to think it through.
And then there was Eric, the silence on the other line drawn out even longer. How would she deal with him?
“Hello,” he said, probably thinking she’d passed out.
She imagined being on tour meant close quarters. Could she resist him and maintain her artistic integrity? Could she take the type of pictures they needed? Only one way to find out.
Standing from the floor, she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this. She could do this.
“I’m in,” she said with more confidence than she felt. He chuckled and the baby birds were flapping away in her stomach.
“Good, I thought the line had disconnected for a second. Glad to hear you’re in, Keira. Welcome to the tour. I’ll give you the address where we’ll be having the meeting. I can’t wait to see how we work together.”
Oh shit, she was in deep trouble.
11
In less than forty-eight hours, Keira had gone from ‘How the hell am I going to pay my rent?’ to sitting in a record label office, beside Eric Newcastle with some record executive in a hoodie flipping through her portfolio. After the phone call about the tour, her cramped, dark and lonely apartment couldn’t hold a candle to hanging out with Eric in his hotel suite for the day. After the call, she flipped through some of her huge prints of her work from the gallery show she’d backed out of looking for ones that put her best foot forward. Deciding against using any of those, she pulled together a bunch of portraits she’d done recently and put them in a portfolio. After swapping out about twenty different ones, she found the ones that showed off her technical skill as well as captured something special about the subjects.
Going to sleep the previous night had been a nightmare. Her roommates had been in and out at odd hours during the night, the door slamming after them as they stomped through the apartment. Tossing and turning, she laid awake for most of the night unsure of how the following day would go. Would they hate her? Pick someone else? After hearing how much they were willing to pay her, Keira was willing to take pictures standing on her head if need be. Finally, as the sun came up, the stress of the day ebbed away and she closed her eyes, only to be shocked awake by a knock at her door.
Grabbing her phone, she saw that she was late. Jumping up, she opened the door, ushered Eric in and scrambled to get showered and dressed for their meeting. Thankfully, she’d put together the portfolio the night before, or it would have been even more of a mad dash. Getting things ready, she made a quick cup of instant coffee, and then they were out the door.
Everything was in a fog. Going on tour with a band, that’s something you fantasize about. Following them around the country, listening to all their performances. Since she didn’t play an instrument, it had been a fleeting and silly dream. But now it was a possibility, as long as the label thought her work was good enough. Half the time, she didn’t think anyone would want to see her work and the other half she knew they wouldn’t. This opportunity was daunting and exhilarating all at once.
Eric took the bag from her at her door and brought it down to the car for her, pulling Keira along. That zap of electricity between them and clenching feeling in her stomach was back. Whenever she was around him, it was like a live wire ran through her. Heart pounding, sweaty palms, and naughty thoughts often followed.
“Pretty swanky, huh?” she said, climbing into the car as Eric held the door open for her.
In the back of the town car her leg tapped against her bag. She’d packed a small suitcase to bring along to the meeting, at his instruction. If she got the gig, they’d be flying out that night and she didn’t want to have to come back to her apartment. She’d left a note asking for her roommates to stash her pictures until she came back. They’d been cool with her needing to leave the apartment, which she was grateful for, not that she couldn’t have paid them once her first paycheck came in—if she got the job.
“Now that I’m getting my own tour, it seems they are trying their best to woo me and keep me happy. Before it was broken down cars and the bus. Can’t say that I don’t mind a little spoiling.” He scooted in beside her and they were on their way. The minute they pulled up to the label’s building her palms started sweating. She was afraid her portfolio would slip out of her hands they felt so wet.
But here she was, in this office where the record label guy in a navy-blue hoodie, jeans and Converse sat behind the large desk glancing up at her every so often. Eric gave her little pats of reassurance on her arm whenever a frown would mar the man behind the desk’s face.
“So, you teach art?” he said, not looking up from the pad.
“Yes, I’ve been an art instructor at the community art classes at the local university for the past couple of years. I mainly focus on still life.”
“Has your work ever shown anywhere?”
“No, not really. I haven’t really had time for that. I would like to show some of my art in the future though,” she said, feeling like her shot was getting further and further away. He went back to flipping.
“How long would it take you to get enough shots to fill a book for the whole tour?” he said, still flipping.
“A few hours, depending on how many locations you wanted me to highlight,” she said, sitting up straighter in her chair.
“A tour is very busy, we don’t always have lots of time for you.”
“I’m more than happy to make whatever time she needs to get the right shots,” Eric said, trying to save her ass.
“Yes, but you’ll be doing press. Meet and greets, sound checks. We can’t have you tied up in this for that long,” he said, closing her portfolio and her chances of being able to make some serious money and go on the tour. She could catch a bus to visit Izzy for the summer. Regroup from there. Maybe start over in a new city.
“Do you think you’d be able to create a unique photo book taking the fans on a journey, touring with Eric Newcastle,” he asked, folding his hands on top of her pictures, staring directly at her.
“Absolutely!” She sat up straighter in her chair. “I promise you that I can. Give me a chance to get it done and you can be the judge.”
The navy-blue hoodie looked her up and down. His eyes focused in on where Eric’s hand was still on top of hers.
“Fine. We’ll give you a shot. You can do the first five dates of Eric’s time with Uncharted and we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you!” she gushed, turning and giving Eric a hug. “I promise, you will not be disappointed!” She stood to shake his hand across his massive desk. He handed her the portfolio back and shook her hand.
“Welcome to the tour, Ms. Weston. Don’t make me regret it.”
“You won’t, I promise you won’t.” Turning to Eric, she smiled so hard she thought her cheeks ached. He gave her a thumbs up and stood to walk her out.
“Eric, just a second,” the hoodie called out as he held the door open for her.
“Yeah?”
“I need to speak with you about something. Ms. Weston, if you would wait outside for a second. There’s something I need to discuss with Eric.”
“No problem,” she said, shaking with excitement about the chance she’d been given. Closing the door, she paced in the waiting area, freaking out about what just happened. She was going on tour with Eric Newcastle! She needed to dig her camera out, she needed to pack, she needed to figure out how in the hell to not screw this up!
The door closed behind Keira and
Eric turned back to navy-blue hoodie. It was Greg or Graham, something like that. He had trouble keeping them all straight.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair he’d just stood from. “I like this idea. I think it could have possibilities, but I also think that there are some other benefits we could have with inviting Keira on tour.”
“Benefits like what?”
“Keira is cute and this will head off any bad press that might have come up after the hotel incident the day before yesterday. I’m getting a bohemian vibe off her and she matches well with your personality. Coming off what happened with Talia.” Eric attempted to speak up, but Greg or Graham held up his hand. “Whatever happened it’s in the past. I’m not worried about that. But I think we can use it to your advantage. You said you had a single about Talia on the album, if we can get it recorded in time, right?”
The heat coursed through him and the boiling creep of red made its way up his neck and across his face, inflaming his cheeks, as embarrassment and anger at what she’d done brought back those ugly thoughts. He had yet to record the single, but once he did, he hoped it would be like his other songs, he could wash those feelings away and never think about her again.
“Yes,” he grumbled.
“Okay, great. Well when the single comes out people are going to start talking. And if they think you’ve had your heart broken by Talia that makes for good optics for the album release. And if you’ve left her behind and are now with someone new. Someone more on your wavelength, we think it could be good for your image. Talia was a bit too rough for your image to fit in with your fans. You had a broken heart, but now you’ve found someone you can connect with. It will play very well in the media. They’ll eat that crap up. Someone bohemian, artistic, and cute.”
“And you want me to do this pretend thing with Keira?”
“Yes, Keira! I saw the way you held her hand. You pitched her for this photography thing. And it will make these prints fly off the shelves even quicker if they think these are intimate moments between the two of you that are being shared. It all works out. You get the girl, Keira gets her art out there and the fans get to feel like they are a part of your heartbreak and recovery.”