Page 40 of The Heartbreakers
Drew laughed. “I’m excited to leave,” he told me. “The nerves—that’s all part of the experience. You just gotta trust that the good will make up for the scary.”
This made sense, but something still wasn’t sitting right with me. “I was excited when Paul first called me,” I admitted, “but then I thought about being away from you and Cara, and I panicked. It’s always been us, together.”
Drew smiled. “The Three Musketeers.”
“Exactly.”
“It’ll still be the three of us,” Drew said, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Being in different places won’t change that.”
“I know,” I said, staring blankly ahead of me.
“Even if you were on the moon.” He held out his pinkie. “I promise.”
Drew was right. The nerves I felt about leaving home were just that—nerves. Which would be manageable except for the awful, nagging feeling that I just couldn’t shake.
It was like this: I’m standing on the shore looking out at the ocean. It’s all a bit familiar, maybe because I’m reminded of the coast in South Carolina. The sun’s beating down on me, and the more I start to sweat, the more I want to peel off my clothes and dive in. But there are all these signs posted along the beach warning swimmers of deadly rip currents. Sure, the water looks peaceful enough, but even though I can’t see the danger below the surface, it’s still lying in wait to sweep me away.
That’s how I felt about accepting Paul’s job offer. I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me so much—it was a blind spot, the danger under the calm. But I knew it was there, and I was terrified of drowning in it. Then again, taking a photography job wasn’t comparable to swimming in treacherous waters. Doing something for myself wasn’t going to kill me.
I’d asked myself what I was so afraid of, but I drew a blank every time. And that was almost as terrifying as the thought of leaving. So even though it felt wrong, there was only one thing left for me to do—take another piece of my brother’s advice. Because if I didn’t accept the job, I’d never figure out what really was lurking below the surface.
I slowly wrapped my pinkie around his. “I think I should call Paul.”
“You should,” Drew said and laughed, “but you might want to wait until morning. I doubt he’d appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night.”
Chapter 11
I had no clue what Paul looked like. We’d only spoken on the phone three times: once when he called to offer me a job, another when I called to accept, and the final time to make arrangements for me to fly out and join the band when they were in Miami. In spite of that, I knew exactly who he was when I stepped into the hotel lobby. He was sitting on one of the many lounging couches and speaking animatedly on the phone. His hair was a deep red, and he was wearing a lime-green shirt that, amazingly, managed not to clash. It was the way he was smiling and waving his free hand that identified him; somehow his mannerisms perfectly matched the voice I remembered from our conversations.
As I approached, he must have recognized me too, because his eyes lit up and he snapped his phone shut. “Stella, darling,” he exclaimed, rising from his seat to greet me. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“You too.” I set down my suitcase. “I’m excited to be here.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We have loads to talk about, but I bet you’re starving after your flight. Why don’t we sit down and have something to eat?” Paul gestured in the direction of the hotel restaurant.
I’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, and the complimentary peanuts on the plane were stale and crumbly, so I’d thrown them out even though I was hungry. Now my stomach was protesting the neglect. “That’d be great.”
We were seated quickly, and after looking over the menu, I decided on breakfast for dinner. I ordered a plate of Southwest scrambled eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and a large glass of orange juice, while Paul went with chicken dumpling soup. I was starting on my last triangle of toast when he pushed his bowl away and pulled a folder out of his briefcase. My name was written across the top in bold letters.
“Let’s see,” he said, mumbling to himself.
Inside was a collection of papers. Paul emailed me the information a few days earlier, but he went over it again to make sure everything made sense. First, he detailed my job responsibilities and what was expected of me. Then he explained my pay. Not only would I received a salary, but Paul would purchase each picture I used on the blog. When I first saw the number in his email I thought it was a mistake, but here it was again and I tried not to gawk—I could pay my way through college if I continued to work for the band.
There were pages of paperwork to read through and dotted lines to sign. By the time we finished, it was nearly nine, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. It had been a long day.
“Sorry to keep you so long,” Paul said, shuffling everything together and stuffing it back inside the folder. “But now that all the boring stuff is out of the way, you can focus on the fun part. Are you excited about tomorrow?”
“I’m a bit nervous actually,” I admitted.
It wasn’t an official work day, but Paul had arranged for me to shadow the band. He wanted me to get a sense of what a typical day on tour was like. I didn’t even have to take pictures if I didn’t want to. All that was required was for me to show up on time and go along for the ride. Even so, my stomach wouldn’t settle.
Yes, I’d decided to accept the job, but I was still nervous about starting something new without Cara and Drew. On top of that, there was Oliver. Would things be weird between us? The thought of seeing him in the morning made the food I’d just eaten slosh around in my stomach.
“Don’t worry,” Paul told me. “Knowing the boys, they’ll make you feel right at home.”
I didn’t find this very reassuring—one of those boys was the reason why I felt nervous. Not sure how to respond, I smiled and agreed. “I don’t doubt it.”
After that, Paul provided me with the information I needed to check in to the hotel. Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking the door to my room. Flipping on the lights, I dropped my suitcase and kicked off my shoes with a sigh. My feet ached and I was beyond exhausted, but I wanted to be prepared for the morning, so despite the fact that the gigantic king bed was calling my name, I forced myself to take a quick shower, set out my clothes, and—even though I didn’t need it—pack my camera bag. I wasn’t going anywhere without it. Only then did I set my alarm and climb under the covers.
