Page 74 of The Heartbreakers
We were in the process of finalizing this week’s post for the blog. There was only room for one more picture, and we’d narrowed it down to the last two potentials.
“Yeah, that’s a good one,” I said and clicked on the image.
It was a picture of JJ with his hand propped on his hip. He looked like a total diva, but that wasn’t why the picture was priceless.
A couple weeks had passed without any of Oliver’s usual pranks, so JJ received quite the surprise yesterday morning when he got dressed. Every one of his shirts had been cut so that there were two circular holes, one over each side of his chest,MeanGirlsstyle. I had to give credit to Oliver—it was impressive that he’d found enough time in a single night to cut up all the tops JJ owned. JJ took the joke surprisingly well—I, for one, would have been pissed if someone purposely ruined any of my clothes—but for the entire morning, JJ pranced around the hotel room in one of his new designs, nipples on full display as he quoted Regina George. That’s when I’d managed to get the picture.
“Perfect,” Paul said, dropping his pen and sitting back in his chair. “You can finish off the rest of this stuff, right?”
“Yup. As soon as all these pictures finish loading, I’ll add some captions and we’ll be all set to upload.”
“Wonderful,” he said, “because there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. It’s about your contract.”
I stopped what I was doing and turned to face Paul. Because of Cara’s cancer, I didn’t work a high-school job, which meant I’d never had a boss before Paul. In terms of good bosses, I was fairly positive that he was as cool as they came, regardless of my lack of past employers to compare him to. Most of the time he gave me free range over the blog, and when we did work on things together, I felt like I was hanging out with a friend. But now his tone took on a more serious note, and I was reminded of my position as his employee.
“My contract,” I repeated, as I sat up in my seat. Was something wrong?
Paul nodded. “The fans’ reaction to the blog has been phenomenal, Stella. You’ve done such a great job so far.”
“Oh,” I said, my shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”
“Of course, darling. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it. The reason I wanted to talk to you is because I can’t imagine what I’m going to do without you.”
“I—what?”
“I want to extend your contract. Well—actually, I want to make you my full-time employee.”
I don’t know what I was expecting Paul to say, but a new job offer wasn’t it. It was so left field that I couldn’t even figure out if what I was feeling was excitement or joy or pride. Probably all three.
Reaching up, I touched my nose out of habit, running my finger over the diamond stud, and I had a sudden flash of the girl from my English class freshman year—her intimidating bull ring and the wild purple hair that reminded me of octopus tentacles—and I wondered: If she saw me now, would she still remember me as one of the Samuel triplets? My appearance hadn’t changed much, but I suddenly felt so different from the girl I was then, even the girl I was two months ago.
By joining the Heartbreakers on tour, I’d finally taken back some of the time—my moments of independence—that I thought I’d lost in high school. Here I was, running my own photography website and applying to SVA. When I’d decided to accept Paul’s first offer, I thought I’d be returning home in two months. But so much had happened in such a short time. Did I want to go home or did I want to stay on with the band? What if there was something else out there for me?
“I don’t want to pressure you, Stella,” Paul said when I didn’t answer. “I’ll leave you alone to think things over, and you can get back to me when you’re ready.”
Paul quietly collected his things, and when he was gone, I was left wondering: What do I do next?
• • •
I felt Oliver’s eyes on me. “Have you made up your mind yet?” he asked.
I sighed and hit “pause.” For this particular leg of the boys’ tour, we were traveling via tour bus, and Oliver and I were crammed onto the small lounge couch watching another James Bond movie.
“Oliver,” I said. I kept my voice low as I glanced at Alec and Xander. They were busy playing a video game across from us, and JJ was in one of the back bunks sleeping. “It hasn’t even been two days yet. Give me a break.”
He was the first and only person I’d told about Paul’s new job offer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want the rest of the band to know, but I needed some time to think through my options before all the boys ganged up on me, urging me to stay.
Oliver did a good job of downplaying his excitement when he heard the news, but I still sensed that he was eager for me to accept. He made a point of talking about it as much as possible, and when he started fidgeting thirty minutes intoCasino Royal, I’d known it wouldn’t take long until he brought it back up.
My answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Yeah, I know,” he said sheepishly. “I’m just excited you’ll get to spend more time with us.”
He said “us” as in the band, but I knew he really meant him. And that was my main dilemma. Things with Oliver were going so well, but what would happen if I was back home or at school while he was traveling the world? Would a relationship even be possible? I was afraid that turning down Paul’s offer would mean giving up Oliver.
In addition, since sending in my application, I’d spent more and more time researching SVA, reading about campus and the different courses I could take. I could gain invaluable experience in New York that I would never get if I continued to work for the band. On the other hand, what if turning down Paul’s job meant letting go of the best opportunity I’d ever have in my life? If I chose Paul and the Heartbreakers, did that mean I was playing it safe?
Completely lost in thought, I didn’t realize that I’d forgotten to respond to Oliver. Or listen to him for that matter, because apparently he was still talking to me.
“Stella, you in there?” he asked, waving a hand in front of my face.
