Page 50 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

“This is one of the many reasons why I absolutely do not let my work life and my personal life connect in any way. I know it sounds paranoid, but this college can be a level of strict that nobody else could possibly relate to.” I could hear my voice rising in pitch and intensity but I couldn’t stop it. “And here you are, marching in like Mr. Rockstar, riling up the students and making me into an evil bitch who has to shush one of their heroes. What does that make me look like?”

By now he was absolutely ashen. “Oh, Keira. I’m so sorry. But I want to be in all parts of your life.”

“Boundaries. I need them for my own peace of mind.”

He reached for my hand across the desk, but I did not reach back. I was so upset that my mind was racing about all of the stupid things I would have to do to mitigate this.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“You could leave very quietly, let me get my work done, let me write up a formal apology to Professor Fletcher for having his meeting time disturbed, and we can talk later.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “I didn’t mean to cause a fuss,” he said.

“I know. Just let me be angry until I deal with this, and we can talk tonight. Okay?”

Jack attempted a tiny smile. “Okay. Thanks.” He left absolutely silently, and the sadness emanating from him was like a gray-blue cloud.

God dammit, I thought. How on earth could I spin this and make it positive? I’d rather eat dirt than apologize to a sexist pig. I stood up and looked out the tiny office window, seeing Professor Fletcher leaving the library.

Then I had an idea. I walked quickly out to where Jack’s fans were still sitting at the large work tables, concentrating on not thinking about speaking to six people from a position of authority. “Hey, folks. Does anyone here ever attend our author series?” They shook their heads no. “We have chats with authors and poets once a month.” Some of them shrugged. They were definitely not into it.

“Would you be interested if Jack Vegas were to come to give a chat on lyric writing?”

A chorus of “Yes,” and “Of course,” rose up.

“Here’s the deal. I’m in the midst of setting it up now, and it would help get it approved if you spread the word on social media in the next half hour. The date isn’t confirmed, but if you all sign up for the email list, you’ll find out the details. Cool?”

“Sure, thanks!” a few of them said. I pointed to the sign on the check-out desk. “Sign up for the list right now, and you’ll get the details shortly so that you can spread the word.” The two with laptops started typing the address in, and a few more pulled out their phones.

I went back to my office and called Jack. “Keira, baby,” he answered immediately. “I’m so sorry I upset you.”

“No time now. Will you be in Toronto at all next month?”

“Yeah, there’s a music conference in four or five weeks the band is coming out for.”

“Can you come to the library and give a one hour talk on lyric writing for the students?”

“Um, sure?” He sounded extremely hesitant, but terrified to let me down.

“I’ll help you, and we can make it easy and fun. You’ll just talk about what triggers ideas, how important it is to have a notebook on you at all times, how to play with words and rhythms. It doesn’t have to be formal, just light and friendly.”

“Okay. How many people will there be?”

“Hmm. Well, we usually get around fifty, but with a special guest like you, maybe double.”

“Oh.” He sounded nervous.

“You sing in front of thousands of people all the time, and say that you love it.”

“Yeah, but I know what I’m doing out there.”

“But you’re in charge of the energy. This will be the same. You can read a couple of songs as if they were poems, then talk about a few parts that are interesting, and the writing process. How it’s different for every song. Whatever. These will be people who already like you, so they won’t be critical.”

“Okay. Anything for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll send out the email right now saying that’s happening, and everyone will know that you weren’t here to cause a ruckus, you were here to chat about an upcoming event.”

“Damn, you’re smart.”

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