When we reached the other side of the room, we came upon Adam Copeland strumming a guitar and singing. I figured he might be there, but I hadn’t seen him come in, and it took me by surprise to find him hanging out like any normal guy. Micah was a bit of a fascination in the tabloids, but Adam was the real deal. I stood in the presence of a huge rock star.
But as weird as it was to see someone that famous in this intimate setting, it didn’t make me feel anywhere near as nervous as I’d been moments ago making small talk with Micah.
Adam didn’t notice us as he sang quietly without an audience or a microphone. Only his guitar carried into the room past a few feet, but as close as we were, I could hear his voice, too. Another voice wove in, and I located Eden, standing in the shadows, leaning against the wall. Her eyes were closed, and she was harmonizing with Adam, but it was as if she sang to herself. I wasn’t used to musicians, and I gaped, completely awed listening to them create something so private right there in the chaotic cacophony.
As the song ended, her eyes opened slowly like she was reluctant to come out of a sweet dream. Adam put the guitar down and jumped up. He took two steps and pressed her up against the glass separating them from a soundproof booth as if the song served as some kind of aphrodisiac. I worried these two were about to share an even more intimate moment surrounded by partygoers.
Micah reached over and picked up the guitar. When he hit a chord, Adam drew away from Eden and looked over. His face lit up. “Micah! When did you get here?”
Maybe Andy was right. If I were cut out for this, I’d have thought to get pictures of Adam and Eden lip-locked in that hot embrace. By the time it occurred to me, it was too late.
The expression Eden shot at Micah was equal parts frustration and forbearance—until she saw me. Then storm clouds gathered. “Micah, what’s she doing here? Isn’t it enough you’re dating your groupies? Do you have to feed the strays as well?”
My camera bag weighed my shoulder down, as if I carried a baby elephant in there. I hadn’t taken a private picture of her when I could have. She had no reason to be angry with me. And yet, I felt like I should leave.
Micah swung an arm around my shoulders, protective. “Hey. You need to remember that reporters are people, too.”
She scoffed. “You need to remember that they are not your friends, Micah. She’s probably looking for an angle right now that she can sell to her editor.”
She wasn’t wrong. In fact, I worried I’d never be allowed to take my camera out now that she’d seen me.
Micah retracted his arm and lifted his hands, palms up. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Eden wasn’t having it. “Like they care. You of all people should know she’ll twist reality if she can’t find any actual dirt.”
“But Eden, she might have some good in her yet.” He elbowed her, and any doubts I had these two were siblings dissipated. “If you could save just one, wouldn’t you want to try?”
She burst out laughing, and her face transformed into a radiant beauty. No wonder she’d hooked Adam Copeland. “I’d love to see one of them redeemed. It would be one less soulless bloodsucker in circulation. But I don’t think she came here to be converted. Your mission is doomed to failure, my friend.”
I felt like I should say something in my defense. After all, I hadn’t asked to come inside. But before I could open my mouth, Micah followed through with his request. “Let her shoot pictures tonight, okay? It’ll be fine. I’ve already cleared it with Hervé—as long as you give your blessing.”
The laughter she’d shared with Micah melted off her face. She sucked on her lip for a minute, then appraised me. “You’ve got three options.” She held out her index finger. “First, you can pack up and leave.”
She was so tiny, I could have laughed, but right then, I thought she might bite my face off, so I nodded to let her know I was listening.
Her middle finger joined the first, making a sideways peace sign. “Second, you can leave your camera with me and enjoy the party.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t relinquish my camera. For one thing, it wasn’t mine.
“Third, you can move around and shoot any pictures you want. But there’s a catch. And if you don’t agree to my terms, I’ll personally escort you out. Okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Sure.” It came out a croak. I glanced over at Adam, standing with his fist covering his mouth like he was trying to hide his laughter. I wondered if he was laughing at me or Eden.
She started over with her index finger. “First, you will let me see everything on your camera before you leave here. Anything I don’t like, you’ll let me delete.”
Damn, she liked lists. I wondered if I should tell her I could upload pictures to our server via a hot spot on my phone periodically anytime I wanted, so waiting until the end of the night to check my pictures was going to be pointless. But I agreed and actually meant it. I could tell Andy I didn’t have good service if he’d even hung around this late on a Friday night.
“Second, you will not alter any of the pictures in any way that would change the context in any meaningful way. I understand you need to clean them up, but you will post nothing intentionally misleading.”
I could make that promise for myself, but Andy liked to frame a photo with a context meant to lure readers. He specialized in rampant speculation.
But Eden wasn’t a fool and said, “Those are my conditions. I recognize that you can agree to them and then do whatever it is you do. But if you break your word, it will be the last time you come to any party I’m at.”
I nodded. “No problem. And thank you.”
With Eden’s permission to shoot the party, I wanted to start moving around, but Micah stuck to my side like a chaperone. Every time I’d lift my camera to get a candid shot of a group of people, Micah would tap one of them and say, “Hey, guys. Say cheese!” Then he’d throw an arm over someone’s shoulder and smile perfectly. Confirming my fears that his true interest lay in my camera, Micah insinuated himself into every single shot. But if he hoped to show up in the morning paper, he was wasting his energy. Unless any of the others revealed themselves to be Banksy or Daft Punk unmasked, I didn’t expect Andy would use any of these posed pictures.
Yet, I followed Micah from group to group, my lip firmly caught between my teeth as I fought the urge to ask him to let me work alone. After all, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have been there.
