Page 40 of Hard Rock Fling
"We crashed on friends' sofas sometimes. We busked for money. We made do."
"That's how August found you, isn't it?"
Ian frowned at me. "What? How did you know that?"
"You told me before that August found you playing in a shitty garage band. But you said you only played together for two years. You couldn't have been in a band while you were homeless. You lied."
His lips quirked. "Yeah. I lied. Sorry. I didn't want to get into my whole sob story. Anyway," he shrugged, "the truth is close enough. Damon and I were jamming together on a street corner. August was walking by, on his way to check out some proper bands, scoping out some guitarists. It was like fate."
"It must have been wild, going fromthat,"I gestured to the street outside the window,"tothis." I gestured to the interior of his luxury car.
"Wild doesn't begin to describe it."
"Homeless at fifteen. No wonder you're not used to any of this rock star stuff."
"You have to agree, though, I've adjusted to the lifestyle quickly." He flashed me a forced grin.
I sensed the change in our conversation's tone. Perhaps Ian had shared as much as he was going to.
"It's awesome your hobby became your career."
"What about you?" He nodded his head to the file folder full of sketches in my lap. "You always been obsessed with art and stuff?"
"My parents got me this little kid's art kit one year for Christmas. Cheap watercolors, colored pencils, stencil notebooks, things like that. I didn't think much of it at first. It sat on my bedroom shelf for a good six months. One day I got bored and pulled it out. The moment I put pencil to paper I knew I'd found something special. Of course," I added, "I wasn't any good in the beginning, either. And no, you're not allowed to see any of my childhood artwork."
"So you've always been an artist," he mused. "How'd you come to work at Etude?"
"I just applied for an internship like everyone else. I suppose because of my artistic background they decided to put me in the Product Development department."
A look of consternation appeared on Ian's face. I help my hand up to stall his protests.
"And I know musicians hate to be calledproducts, but that's essentially how you guys are viewed by music execs."
A crease appeared between his brows for a brief moment, but soon smoothed out. "So you were already helping artists develop their image?"
"Well. Not technically. My job was to do whatever my boss told me, whether that was ironing outfits, picking up clothing from the dry cleaners, or making sure each band member had the right accessories before performing."
"I can testify you did well with that last part."
"Glad to hear I did something right."
"Are you worried you're not doing a good job? You shouldn't doubt yourself. You scored this internship for a reason. They must have seen something in you."
"I no longer feel completely out of my depth, at least."
He frowned. "Why would you feel that way?"
"Are you kidding? My first day as an intern was nerve-wracking. I'd shown up at this tall office tower in the heart of downtown. The height of the building is nausea-inducing. That avant-garde exterior design, all angles and glass? It's something out of a futuristic sci-fi film. I'd known Etude Entertainment was one of the top entertainment companies in the world with all its rock bands, actors, and other celebrities, but it hadn't sunk in until I saw the building housing your headquarters. I wasthis closeto just turning around and walking away."
"I hadn't thought of it that way. I'd probably be intimidated, too."
"I can't imagine anything throwing you off guard. You seem pretty…"
He lowered his sunglasses, pulling them over his eyes, and gave me a cocky grin. "Confident?"
"I was going to say full of yourself."
He laughed. "I have a feeling spending time with you is going to cure me of that."
