Page 30 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

“It sucks that I have to start our day with this stupid interview,” he said. He seemed to be getting jittery, as if he were overcaffeinated, or was preparing himself for a firing squad.

I looked into his dark eyes and saw that he was genuinely nervous. “Who is the interview with?”

“I have no idea. Kelly set it up.”

“I like Kelly. She really seems to be working hard for you guys.”

“Yeah. Sometimes it seems like she’s pestering us for information, and setting up endless interviews, but I know it’s always the right thing to do.”

“Right. May I text Kelly and ask about the publication? Maybe if I researched it a tiny bit, I could tell you what they’re looking to hear. That way you can just give them what they want and everybody’s happy.”

He pondered that for a moment, then nodded. Grabbing his phone, he sent me Kelly’s cell number. I immediately sent her a text, explaining my idea of prepping Jack so that the interview would go smoothly.

“Are you hungry?” Jack asked.

“Starving.”

“How about I order some roast beef sandwiches and garden salad from room service?”

“Perfect. And real coffee? And orange juice?”

He grinned. “Anything you like. I’ll order food then take a quick shower.” He kissed me on the forehead and went over to the beige phone on the clear plastic nightstand. Hotel decor the world over is usually either so fancy you’re afraid to touch anything, or so bland it puts you to sleep. This place was sort of caught in between.

Kelly had already sent me a reply, with the name of the publication and the interviewer. After thanking her, I slipped straight into fast research mode. Grabbing the thin cardboard box that held the coffee supplies, I flattened it to use as notepaper. I took point form notes about the depth and tone of the most recent three interviews by this particular journalist. Then I ran a search on her.

By the time Jack came out of the shower wearing only a towel, I was already dressed, with my hair tied up, and finished with the basic information that he needed. I handed him the cardboard while trying not to ogle his perfectly chiseled torso. I didn’t try hard enough, and my eyes wandered across the planes of his muscles, down his ripped stomach. How did he have time to work out?

Jack looked at the notes, then at me, astonished. “You did all of this in ten minutes?”

“Fifteen, really. It’s not the in-depth version, but it should get you through the interview.”

He skimmed my notes on the music scene the show usually covered, the tone of recent interviews, and personal notes on the interviewer. She was more into metal than hard rock, so I listed several of her favorite bands for him to drop into conversation if possible.

“This is wicked,” he grinned. “You really are an angel.”

“Hey, I don’t know if it’s okay to talk about this, but her musical tastes reminded me of something I found yesterday.”

“What’s that? And you can talk to me about absolutely anything.”

“Well, it’s totally not my business, but Paul was hired by his brother at the record company to promote metal bands, but something happened about a year ago and he ended up with you guys and a techno band.”

“Why would Paul want to work specifically with metal bands?”

“He used to be in one,” I said.

“What the hell?”

I showed him a couple of the links that I had bookmarked from yesterday on my phone. “He was in Tombstone Messiah.”

Jack choke-laughed for a second. “What a cheeseball name.”

“Yeah, right? They never went anywhere, but Paul still wanted to be involved with metal so he begged his brother for a job. I’m just extrapolating from the things I’ve found of course, but it looks like the metal scene didn’t click with him and he was a total failure. So his brother had him promote a band that Jason loved, but Paul didn’t particularly think were going anywhere.”

“What the actual fuck?” Jack hissed with fury. “Jason Murray is his little brother? Why wouldn’t they tell people that?”

I shrugged. “Different fathers. Jealousy. Weird family vibes. It could be anything.” I paused, then finally asked, “What happened a year ago that messed up the band’s image?” I didn’t want to anger him, but it had to be figured out.

Jack suddenly slumped on the couch with his head in his hands. He spoke very quietly, suddenly sad. “About a year ago Noodle and I were thrown on a TV interview at the last minute. It was supposed to be some big opportunity, and we completely blanked when the cameras turned on. He turned into a giggling idiot, and I was too nervous to string a complete sentence together. None of our fans gave a shit, in fact, they were sort of sympathetic. But all of the suits thought we were losers that didn’t know our asses from apples.”

---