Page 7 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

About forty minutes into the set, I was completely enthralled and lost in the music. My body was inching forward along with everyone else’s, assisted by the ever vigilant Sherrie who would find any opening to sneak us closer to the front. Somehow we were now in the second row of bodies, with the stage lights brightly illuminating our faces.

I released my worry – he would never recognize me, and there was no way he would say or do anything if he did.

The drummer counted in the next song more slowly, and a wave of recognition rippled through the crowd. The bass kicked in a slow, romantic groove, and when the guitar joined, I realized this was a ballad. Jack had his back to the audience for a moment, perhaps collecting himself for the next song. That I saw that he was actually taking a sip of water from a bottle on the drum riser.

He turned suddenly and launched himself toward the front edge of the stage, singing directly at us. Several lines in, his eyes locked with mine. He tilted his head to the side, then smiled, not missing a beat. I felt myself blushing and wanting to shrink away.

He winked at me very directly, then moved along to sing to others at the side.

Sherrie grabbed my shoulder. “Oh my god – I saw that. He winked at you!” I nodded, but couldn’t speak.

For the next several songs, Jack kept catching my eye, as if to make sure I was still there, or still real. It was the strangest sensation, as pretty much every girl in the room was fixated on him, but he seemed to have his attention solely on me.

During an extended guitar solo, he disappeared to the side of the stage for a moment, and I could sort of make out that there was another person there. He came back with something in his hand, which he held for the rest of the song.

As it ended, and the guitars died out, Jack darted to the front of the stage, reaching between a few people, and slipped me a note.

Jumping back is if that hadn’t happened, or if he were trying to hide it, he announced, “Hey darlings, thanks so much for coming out to our little secret show, and to Greenlight Vodka for putting this together. Hope to see all of you tomorrow night at our big show at Kuedler Hall. Thanks so much for having us, Toronto. This last song is the single from our latest album – it’s called The Violet Storm.”

They burst into a soulful song that was part rock, part blues, and all emotion. Jack sang of being lost, the dark moods that filled the mind and overtook us, and how hard it was for the human animal to change its ways.

Meanwhile, Sherrie was tugging at my shoulder. “What does it say?”

“I’ll read it after this song,” I said. I was afraid to miss a word, lost in this amazing poem set to music.

As the band came out front to wave, Jack smiled at me d

irectly again, and tilted his head, motioning as if I were to join him. After they left the stage, I opened the note.

Lovely Librarian, please come backstage? Door on your left, tell security ‘animal crackers’, then follow the noise until you find me.

8. A Note to Backstage

Sherrie was reading along with me and dug her fingers into my shoulder. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed. “We’re going to meet Jack Vegas.”

There was no way to tell her that I was too nervous to do this. Why on earth would he want to see me? It was illogical, and my stomach knotted up at the thought of it.

The crowd was thinning out. Sherrie grabbed my arm and led the way to the door on the left. There was a stocky dark-skinned man in a crisp black security uniform blocking the doorway. He looked at me quizzically, with a rather stern look on his face.

“Animal crackers?” I said hesitantly.

His demeanor instantly changed. “Of course, miss,” he said with a British lilt as he opened the door behind him. “Down the hall, second door on your right, and please mind the steps.”

We followed the instructions to an open door where the noise from what sounded like a party spilled out. Sherrie grabbed my arm to stop me. “You didn’t tell me how you know him. How on earth does Jack Vegas know who you are?”

As if he heard his name, Jack poked his head out, then joined us in the hallway. “Librarian!” he exclaimed, in a softer version of his gravelly tone. He immediately grabbed my hand to check my scrape, but it was covered by a small bandage. I tried to smile warmly, not letting on how unbelievably twitchy I felt that he was holding my hand again. As he gently stroked my palm with his thumb, I swear I could feel things sizzling deep inside me.

“Thanks to you, I appear to have survived. No alley disease.” I could feel Sherrie giving me the strangest look. “By the way, I’m Keira. This is Sherrie.”

He very gently shook the hand he was already holding, then reluctantly dropped it to shake my friend’s hand. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Jack.”

“I know,” she grinned. “I have all five of your albums. Even the limited edition British EP.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Damn girl, I thought only my relatives bought that one. Thanks,” he grinned.

He turned his attention back to me, but looked as if he had no idea what to say. I tried to think of something, anything. “I’ll confess, I don’t have any of your albums. But I really loved the show.”

“Thank you. And thanks again for calming me down before that interview.” He checked over his shoulder before whispering, “If I mess up one more media appearance I think I’m going to be in big trouble.”

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