Page 58 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

“Wow,” he said. “You look extra gorgeous.” His eyes fell to my wrist, and he laughed. “That looks perfect on you.”

“I hope you don’t mind. I’d never dig through your stuff, but it was sitting right there.”

He grinned oddly, possibly proudly. “I like seeing you in my T-shirts, my cuffs.”

I felt myself blushing, and couldn’t turn it down. “Um, interview time. Let’s go.”

As we walked down to the lounge, I said to Jack, “Don’t forget to say hello in French. Even if it’s just ‘salut’ or ‘allo’. It’s a symbol that you care.”

He nodded, quite serious. “Right. Thanks.”

“And he doesn’t like Toronto-centric musicians, so touch on Vancouver, Montreal, everywhere you’ve been that you like.”

“Right.” He looked like he was about to walk into an exam that he was worried that he would fail.

“Smiling occasionally helps too,” I teased, taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said, pinning me with that warm, soft gaze that I felt in my knees.

Dropping his hand reluctantly, we entered the lounge. There were only about a dozen people scattered around the room, but I scanned for the interviewer, whose photo I had found online. I saw that Nick was already there, seated near the front window. Taking a deep, slow breath, I walked right up to him.

“Salut, c’est toi Nick?”

“Allô, tu dois être Kelly.”

“C’est Keira en fait. Ça fait plaisir de te rencontrer.”

“Désolé, je me suis trompé de nom.”

“Kelly s’occupe des relations publiques pour le groupe. Je suis juste une amie de Jack qui est aussi à Montréal en fin de semaine.”

“Nick, c’est Jack.”

As I introduced them, Jack’s face was positively priceless as he was obviously gobsmacked by my sudden language switch. He shook Nick’s hand, saying, “Salut. Hey man, great to meet you. I’m sorry I don’t speak French.”

Nick was giving him a genuine smile. “You said ‘Hello’. That’s better than most. Shall we grab a drink?” He gestured for us both to sit, but I shook my head.

“I don’t want to interrupt. I’ll be at the bar catching up on work emails.”

They sat down and seemed to fall instantly into a comfortable conversation. I could hear some fragments of Jack’s stories through the hum of the other conversations in the lounge. He mentioned that he loved the flavor of the ocean air in San Francisco almost as much as he loved the tiki bar where it rains indoors. He loved the burgers at Ottawa’s oldest bar, The Laff. And he said that he loved how different the vibe of the music scenes were in Ottawa and Montreal, which made Nick smile.

I heard my phone ping, and glanced down.

Kelly: Please don’t kill me. Paul freaked out and wanted a report on how the interview was going, and Jack wasn’t answering so he demanded your number. I lied and said I didn’t have it.

“Excusez-moi, miss?”

“Yes?”

The bartender was holding out the courtesy phone. “Keira Avidan?”

“Yes, thank you.” I took the phone from him.

“So you really are stalking Jack,” Paul started, without even saying hello. “What the hell are you doing there?”

“Jack invited me.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have. He has work to do. He should be busy concentrating on this interview and writing his new album, not prancing around Montreal with some groupie.”

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