Page 36 of The Heartbreakers
He dove right into his proposal. “My job with the band is to generate and manage the Heartbreakers’ publicity. Think of me as a bridge between the boys and the public. Now, it’s no secret there are rumors about the Heartbreakers splitting up. Some say there’s tension between the boys, and others talk about too much pressure from the label. Regardless, it’s my job to squash those rumors—they’re poisonous—but the more I try to quiet the buzz, the louder it gets.”
Paul sighed into the phone, and even though I’d never met him, let alone finished our first conversation together, I felt bad. The stress in his voice was evident, all his earlier cheerfulness gone, and the rumors seemed to be poisoning him as well.
Whyintheworldishetellingmeallofthis?
“Sounds frustrating,” I said carefully, “but I’m a little confused. Is there something you think I can do to help?” As I spoke, I shook my head, struggling to believe the words coming out of my mouth. A lot had changed since my trip to Chicago—one week ago I would never have offered to help the band I disliked so much.
Paul sighed again, this time in relief. “As a matter of fact, there is. None of my normal strategies are working, so I’ve been toying with an idea that’s a bit unorthodox. Tell me, do you have any experience with blogging?”
“Not really,” I admitted. I’d thought about posting some of my pictures on Tumblr in the past, but I’d always chickened out.
“Don’t worry about it,” Paul said quickly. “For this project, I want to turn my focus away from the rumors. Instead, I need to concentrate on showing the world that the Heartbreakers are stronger than ever.”
“Okay?”
“You managed to capture the band when they were goofing off and being themselves.”
“We were just hanging out. I’m still not sure what you’re asking of me.”
“Stella, I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen the boys look that happy,” he said, “and I want more of that—it’s gold. What’s I’m proposing is that you run an official photo blog for the Heartbreakers. You’ll take pictures of the band, shots of them doing everyday things like hanging out and having fun.”
“So more pictures like the ones I took the other weekend?” I asked.
“Exactly like those. You’ll also be responsible for the actual blogging. With each picture you post, there should be a short description of what’s happening. Talk about your time with the band so fans feel like they are there experiencing the moment with you.”
I paused. “But how will I take more pictures?”
“From what I’ve heard, you made fast friends with the boys. All you have to do is hang out with them. I’m positive you’ll get plenty of material to work with.”
“Hang out with them? Like on a regular basis?” How the hell was that going to work? The Heartbreakers were in a new city every other day.
“Yes, of course. You’ll join us on tour. I’ve never done something like this before, so it will be a learn-as-we-go experience for both of us, but I really think an out-of-the-box approach could be successful. What do you think? Are you interested?”
I took a deep breath. “Truthfully, this is all a bit overwhelming.”
“Completely understandable,” Paul said quickly. “I threw lots of information at you, and I’m sure it’s a lot to process. Why don’t you take a few days to think things over and then we can talk?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I told him.
Paul gave me his number in case I had any questions, and we made plans to speak at the end of the week. After hanging up, I collapsed back into the couch.
My head was spinning. I’d just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, the type of job people killed for. An uncontrollable grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.
“Stella, professional photographer,” I said. The words made me giggle, but saying them out loud made it feel real. Someone wanted to hire me as a photographer. Scratch that. Not just someone. The publicist for the Heartbreakers wanted to hire me. “Oh my God, I have to tell Cara!”
Jumping up, I shoved my phone in my pocket. As I raced back down the hall I somehow felt taller, bigger, stronger—ready to take anything on. The feeling didn’t last long.
When I reached the door to Cara’s room, I stopped. She had decorated it with pictures of the three of us. It was a collage of our childhood: Drew, Cara, and I in matching outfits as babies, the first day of kindergarten, standing outside Cinderella’s castle at Disney World, waiting at the bus stop in high school. The more I studied the pictures, the more I was overwhelmed with a sense of dread.
I’d wanted an opportunity like this for so long, a chance to go off on my own, and this job was more than I could ever hope for. But instead of being ecstatic, I felt a slow, paralyzing coldness cascade from my head to my feet. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so terrible, but I couldn’t let Cara see that I was upset. Before I could talk to her, I needed time to think about Paul’s offer.
Using my sleeve, I wiped away the water building in my eyes before I opened the door. When I stepped inside, Cara was awake and sitting up in bed.
“Hey,” she said. “Where’d you disappear to?”
“The living room,” I said. “Mom called.” The smile I’d forced onto my face quivered, and I hoped Cara didn’t notice.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she squinted at me.
