Page 9 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

Ricky nodded approvingly. “Yeah man, I never thought of it that way. So, Jack, you’ve been touring like crazy, talking endlessly about the new album, are you getting sick of answering the same questions all the time?”

Jack burst into a perfect charming laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to ever say that I’m sick of people talking about us. But yeah, sometimes it gets a little tricky saying the same thing fifty different ways.”

“So tell me something different. Tell me about the creative process of the new album.”

Jack suddenly stared into space as if he were either blanking, or thinking of too many things at once. I shook his hand to get his attention, and mouthed the word, ‘chocolate’.

He grinned, as relief flooded his eyes. His thumb was stroking the side of my hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world and it was hard for me to focus on his words. “I think one of the most creative things that happened with this album was an accidental overdose.”

Ricky looked shocked. Before he could ask, Jack continued quickly. “We all had way too many dark chocolate espresso beans one night, and got super hepped up on the sugar and caffeine. We went down to the studio to just jam and goof around, and decided to work on ‘The Eyes in her Stars’. Tate counted it in way too fast as a joke, but Marky and Noodle jumped in and we all just took off like a bat out of hell. Our slow meaningful ballad was suddenly a rippin’ rockabilly tune. You should have seen our promoter’s face when he heard it, but it turned out so great we just had to crank out another ballad instead a few days later.”

Ricky laughed uproariously. “So you were high as kites on candy and revamped your own song? Almost like a parody?”

“I know,” Jack said. “It’s not very hardcore. But we need to do something insane once in a while. We’re not the type of people to start fires or smash up cars or whatever people did back in the seventies. We certainly don’t want to get into a situation where we lose a band member, like Hanoi Rocks.”

“Wow, man,” Ricky looked impressed. “You are way too young to know about them.”

Jack shrugged. “You have to cut corners, or fade away.”

“Brilliant, man, brilliant.” Ricky’s voice boomed as he wrapped it up. “We’ve been chatting with Jack Vegas of Vegas Mud Disco, and hope that you will check out their new album in stores now.”

He cut the audio, then shook Jack’s hand. “That was perfect dude, thank you so much.”

“Thanks for having me, Ricky,” Jack said warmly.

Jack took my hand again as we left the room, and stopped me as I began walking back to the party. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. Everyone needs a little help now and then.” I smiled up into those impossibly deep eyes. “I think you did really well. Ricky seemed happy.”

He stared into my eyes as if he were trying to memorize my face. “I don’t want to go back to those loud people. I want you all to myself. May I walk you home?”

I had just gotten used to the idea that he wanted my help with interviews. But he wanted to spend time with me, instead of... well, any other girl backstage, or the hundreds out front who had just been screaming his name? This was illogical.

“Well, I guess,” I said hesitantly. “It’s pretty far.”

“I don’t get a chance to go out and walk much,” he shrugged. “Unless…” He looked down to check my boots. “Are those comfortable enough?”

“Yeah, these are fine.” I was surprised that he’d even think to check.

“If you don’t want to go walking around late at night with some strange guy, I’ll totally understand.” He was being sweet, but his eyes were almost begging. It was totally off kilter to see a guy who was so confident on stage less than an hour ago look so desperate.

“Just let me tell Sherrie that I’m taking off.”

“Of course.”

The moment we stepped into the room, a beefy blonde man clapped Jack on the back. “Great show kid, and I already got a text from Ricky saying that you aced the interview. Well done.” It looked to me like the smile on his lips didn’t touch his eyes. He was also looking around Jack’s face too much, which implied that he didn’t want to be saying what he was saying. Or that I read too many psychology websites.

“Thanks,” Jack said. “Paul, this is Keira. Keira, this is our promoter, Paul Fleet.” I shook his hand and noticed that he was far too gentle, as if his real handshake would break a girl. I just hated when guys did that.

“Lovely to meet you,” I said.

“And lovely to meet you,” he said, with the slightest trace of a leer. Maybe he just talks to all women that way. He checked that Jack was turned the other way, then his smile turned from polite to greasy. “Fan of the band, are you?” He looked me up and down as if I were dinner. Snatching my hand away, I immediately stepped back. He looked amused, then continued looking down my cleavage.

I saw Sherrie across the room and excused myself to go over and join her. She was snuggled up beside Marky on the couch, sipping from an unnaturally pink bottle. “How’s it going?” she asked, looking up at me with amused eyes.

I took a deep breath to shake off the gross feeling I got from Paul. “Great, just wanted you to know that I don’t need a ride home. Jack is going to walk me.”

Her expression flashed from surprised, to amused, to her ‘you go girl’ sassy approval.

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