“You think she played a part in you getting last-minute backstage passes?” Caleb eased off the light when it turned green. The narrow two-lane Sea Blue Way in the East became six in the West.
“I think Mac Diamond gave me these tickets.”
“Really?” Caleb cut her a side glance as “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” played in the truck. “And FYI, he’s not reached out to me, in case you’re wondering.”
“I’m not.”
“He didn’t Mr. Potter me.”
“Sure looked like it that night.”
“Well, he didn’t. By the way, we have a Main Street meeting this Thursday.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat before or after.”
“Caleb Ransom, did you just ask me out on a date?”
His side grin was so cute. “You asked me first.”
“Since when?”
“Um, now. I’m going to a Beach Boys concert with you. You don’t need me.”
“I had two passes.”
“Could’ve taken Rex or Jane, even Delilah.”
Emery stared out her window. “I’d be okay with dinner.”
His laugh resonated through her and once again took her back to riding around in his Chevy S-10, blasting music and Caleb reaching across the bench seat to pull her closer to him.
“What’s Bentley doing tonight?” Emery spotted the amphitheater up ahead as Caleb navigated the concert traffic.
“Skating with the Feinberg boys.” He made a left into VIP parking. “That kid ... I told him if he got tired of the rink to call Dad and Mom. He says, ‘I don’t have a phone.’ So, this afternoon I bought him a prepaid dumb phone, programmed in emergency numbers, and handed it to him, thinking ‘Not bad, Uncle Caleb.’” He shook his head. “Bentley curled his lips and said something about arealphone, a smart phone, and I said, ‘If you think you’re getting a thousand-dollar phone at age eleven, you’ve got another thing coming.’” Caleb powered down the window to show their press passes to security. “Know what he said? ‘Okay, what’s the other thing coming? I need to check my options.’”
So, with a bit of laughter, they parked, then followed the signs to the press room, Emery shoving aside the missing ads debacle to focus on the opportunity ahead.
She’d solve theGazette’s problems tomorrow. She would. There’s no reason an intelligent, educated woman couldn’t figure out what had happened. For now, head in the game. She was about to interview two of the legendary Beach Boys: founding member Mike Love and longtime vocalist and contributor Bruce Johnston.
“You have ten minutes. Not a second more, so don’t ask.” A bearded man with Rocky Mountain muscles gave Caleb the once-over. “Who’s he?”
“My photographer,” she said. Caleb popped a wide grin and flashed his phone.
“No photos in there.” The man shoved Caleb against a wall and ushered Emery to her seat across from Mike and Bruce. Suddenly she was nervous. While she’d interviewed a few celebs in her time, and a great number of political figures at theFree Voice, this was for theGazette. Her paper. And a little bit for Delilah.
“Delilah Mead says hello,” she said right off the bat, and immediately the atmosphere changed. Mike and Bruce perked up and peppered her with questions.
“Delilah Mead, of course we remember her. Man, how is she?”
“She’s great,” Emery said.
“When we toured with her, every show was a blowout. What a voice.” This from Mike Love.
“Where is she these days?” Bruce said.
“Yeah, what’s she been doing the last forty years?”
