Page 19 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

He didn’t have many followers, and he certainly didn’t censor himself. Two days ago there was a huge rant about proving that fans are shit because a show coming up a week from Saturday isn’t selling out. He rambled almost incoherently about how a lack of marketing money was no excuse, and the fans were supposed be following the main website. He also babbled about finally getting what he was due, and it just being a matter of time before he is free from a bunch of losers.

The more I read, the more I genuinely thought this man was unhinged. His lack of linear logic clearly stated a lack of intelligence. His anger was unfocused. He was more than an asshole, he was unprofessional and rather dim.

I sat back and sipped the last of my coffee. Here I was analyzing this guy as if he were a research subject. What the hell was wrong with me?

Either old habits die hard, I thought as I ate a quick sandwich, or, I desperately need more real research in my life. Cravings are part of who we are. Then what did it mean that I suddenly craved Jack instantly, completely? It seemed impulsive. But at the same time, it seemed totally natural.

I heard my phone ping and rushed to read Jack’s text.

Jack: Good afternoon, gorgeous. I miss you. Isn’t that odd? The show starts at nine but if you’re free, maybe you could meet me there at six?

I didn’t bother playing coy, and responded immediately.

Me: Sure – Can’t wait to see you. Where should I be at six?

Jack: Text me when you’re at Kuedler Hall. Behind the building will be a back door somewhere. If I can’t come out, I’ll send someone to escort you in.

Jack: I need you to kiss me like that again.

I wanted to reply with a zillion emojis, but tried to be more mature.

Me: Yes, and YES.

13. Pre-Show Weirdness

I took the subway, then walked three blocks to Kuedler Hall. I realized that I was more nervous than I had been about a date in ages. Actually, ever. If this could even be considered a date. I’ve never liked anyone this much right off the top, and even though I had no idea where it was going or if it even could go anywhere, I was putting myself in that head-space of completely going with the flow this evening. Whatever happens, happens.

Although the concert didn’t start until nine, and doors were at eight, at six pm there was a lineup around the corner. It was damn impressive.

I sent Jack a text:

Me: I’m at the hall, cruising around back looking for an alley :)

I walked around the building cautiously, as there were large trucks and many black-clad people out for a smoke break. Must be the tech crew.

As I passed the very back of the hundred-year-old stone building, a door opened on the second floor, and a short, perky woman with black dreads poked her head out. Upon seeing me, she waved and motioned for me to come up the fire escape.

I began climbing. “Hi,” she said, “You have to be Keira,” she said with a charming smile. “Damn,” she said, “You really are pretty. I’m Kelly.” She was tiny, but had a huge energy that was instantly endearing. Her sleeveless flowered dress showed off a large sunflower tattoo on one arm.

When I reached the landing, I shook her hand. “Hi, it’s lovely to meet you.” We went inside and the heavy steel door slammed behind us.

“This way,” she said. “Jack’s just finishing up his warm-ups.” She led me down a hallway, and past an open door that had a huge, loud group of people all chatting. Peeking in on the way by, I recognized the band and some of the other people from last night.

She led me down the hall to a closed door, with the strangest sounds emanating from it. Kelly laughed at my expression. “I know,” she said, “Vocal exercises sound absolutely insane. But it has to be done.”

“That makes sense,” I said, while trying not to giggle at the strange nasal grinding noise, followed by a rather operatic, “Gee-yah”, series of trills.

“He should be done in just a few minutes.” She suddenly made a note on her phone. “I should put this on the list of things for him to write about in the band blog,” she said. “Oh yeah, thanks for that.”

“I just suggested that he write down some of his stories,” I said softly, betraying how proud I felt.

“Well, you must be a good influence on him, because I’ve been bugging him for months. He finally emailed me one post early this afternoon, and promised me two or three a week.”

“That’s fabulous,” I said.

“What do you do?” Kelly asked curiously.

“I’m the head librarian at Denson College.”

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