Page 73 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“I apologize for not getting back to you sooner.”

“I’m glad I’ve got you now. I’m Harold Lewis withEarworm Magazine.”

“Earworm Magazine?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you’ve never heard of it.”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t.”

“Listen, I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Miss Rodriguez,you’ve probably never heard of our magazine before because, well, it’s struggling to survive.”

“Oh?”

“Our publication is old and unfortunately stuck in the past. I can’t get any new subscribers, and the promising young journalists that come on all ditch me at the last minute.”

“That’s . . . I’m sorry. That sounds hard.”

He sighs. “I know we’re no one’s first pick, but I loved your articles in theStoneman Press.”

“Really? I didn’t think anyone but college students were reading them.”

“I’m trying to build up a younger audience forEarworm, and where better to find talent than a college paper. Both musician-wise and journalist.”

“Makes sense.”

“Is that what you want? To be a journalist?” he asks.

My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I wonder if he can hear it through the phone. “Yes, I do. More than anything.”

“Well, I’ll cut to the chase then, Miss Rodriguez. I’ve read the articles you wrote about Carnal Sins and I have to say, you have a real knack for talent coverage.”

Shivers break out across my arms and there’s a pinching in my cheeks. Am Ismiling? “Really? Thank you, sir.”

“I wanted to discuss an internship opportunity with you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, very serious. What do you say?”

“I would be thrilled for any opportunity to work withEarworm Magazine.”

Like he’s been holding his breath waiting for my answer, I hear him sigh. “That’s wonderful. Well, I happen to know that Carnal Sins are going out on their first tour in the new year and I’m looking for a journalist who can tour with them and chronicle their experience as new and up-and-coming stars.”

My knees buckle beneath me. An internship. A real one. Albeit for a small magazine, but this could be huge. He’s asking me to write about Carnal Sins. He’s asking me totourwith Carnal Sins. Becks mouths something to me, but she’s out of focus.

“I—You . . . I’m not sure I understand,” I whisper.

“It’s obvious you have a connection to the band. They’ve opened up to you, connected with you. As a journalist I’m sure you know how important that is. We’d put together a feature in the magazine based on what you submit. I think it would really help to pull in young readers. Build up our audience again. I heard you take your own photos as well.”

“Ye—yes, I do.”

“I’m afraid we can’t provide much for expenses but perhaps if you only join them for the last few weeks of the tour, we could at least cover some accommodation costs,” he continues.

I don’t even know what to say. If Becks wasn’t pinching my arm, I would think I’m having the most wonderful dream but . . . how did this even happen? There’s no way a magazine editor, even a failing one, reads a school newspaper.

“I’m sorry, Mister Lewis, but . . . I have to ask. Why me? I mean, surely you don’t expect me to believe that you read my college paper for fun and stumbled on my articles.”

He laughs. “See, I knew you’d be sharp. You’re right. Your articles were pointed out to me by the band’s manager. We go way back.”

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