Page 25 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

“I like vodka coolers – anything red is fine.”

He cocked his head, giving me that strange look that I’m pretty sure meant he wasn’t sure whether he should laugh at me or not. “Red isn’t exactly a flavor, but sure.”

He grabbed himself a beer and brought me back a strawberry cooler. “Red enough?”

I giggled, taking a sip of the soothing sugar water. “I’ve tried a lot of these things, and if they are red or pink, I tend to like the flavor. But when they’re blue raspberry, or lime, they tend to taste a bit too much like chemicals.”

“I hear you.”

“So you’re a beer guy?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “I also like whiskey and good tequila, but I don’t have those very often. Two beers after a show to unwind seems a reasonable amount to drink. Hard liquor... I don’t know. It seems like a bad habit to get into.”

I nodded. “I remember reading something about Janis Joplin needing to chug an entire bottle of whiskey before she could perform sometimes, because her stage fright was so dreadful.”

“Precisely. If you have a habit that’s actually more of a crutch, it’s too easy to need one more, and then one more next time, and suddenly it’s not a crutch, it’s the thing that drives you.”

I nodded, looking around the room, now filled with the band, and what seemed to be a few friends and record company types. Kelly appeared in front of us. “Jack, remember I told you about the radio station winner, who got front row tickets but they also get to meet you?”

He looked at me apologetically. “I’m so sorry, this should only take a few minutes.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Take your time with the winners. They’re probably thrilled out of their minds to meet you. Spend a little time, take some photos. I’m fine waiting here.”

Kelly grinned, obviously appreciative of my attitude. “How about I go introduce you to them, then I’ll come back and hang out with Keira?” This seemed to make Jack happy. “Cool,” Kelly said. “I’m just gonna grab the other guys, they want all four of you, so let’s boot it.” Jack handed me his beer, and took off, as he and Kelly collected the other three and left the room.

I wondered about his attitude of not leaving me alone. Was he possessive? Paranoid? It was a bit strange.

In seconds someone was sliding into the seat beside me. I turned and saw that it was their promoter. “It’s Keira, right?” he asked.

“Yes. How are you, Paul?”

“Pretty good, pretty good,” he said before taking a huge slug of his beer. “I see that you’re hanging around with our Jack again.”

“Yeah. It turns out that we’re both bookworms,” I said, by way of explanation of why the heck a girl like me would be hanging out with a guy like him.

“Guys always seem to like the Toronto girls,” he said with a dark chuckle. I wasn’t sure what he was implying, so I kept my mouth shut, wondering if he would elaborate, or hopefully get bored and leave.

“So, what do you do, sugar?” he asked, barely holding back his sneer. “Let me guess, barista? Receptionist? No – I bet you’re a sales girl at a ladies clothing store.”

I could not help giving him my best ‘I am trying to murder you with my eyes’ stare. “I’m the head librarian at Denson College, actually,” I said with only a trace of bitchiness.

“Oh, so you think you’re a smart chick?”

“No, actually, I know that I’m a smart chick. Do you still think that you are a heavy metal guy?” I couldn’t believe I just said that, but was amused when his mouth actually fell open so wide it was comical. “You used to be in that band, Tombstone Messiah, right?”

His lips snapped shut and he glared at me for a moment. “And why are you digging your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“Information that is freely available on the Internet isn’t digging very hard,” I said flatly.”Your band didn’t make it, so now you’re a promoter, possibly desperately trying to keep your fingers in the music industry pot somehow.”

His light blonde coloring was making the slight flush from his absolute rage extremely obvious. I knew that I should not be angering a complete stranger, but he was obviously a douchebag. He was a skeezy little man, who came over to try to call me a random groupie. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn’t help digging into him.

“So how is band promotion going for you?” I asked with fake sweetness. “They seem to be a little bit lost since you’ve taken over. It’s like nobody is driving the ship at all.”

“You watch it, honey,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You’re just a fling of the week, and I’ll see to it that Jack stays the hell away from you.”

I took a long, slow sip of my drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

“I mean it. He’s leaving tomorrow afternoon anyway, you’ll never see him again.”

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