He laughed, though it sounded more like a rock tumbler. “If that were a problem, I’d have fired half the staff years ago. Why? Do you?”
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal.”
“For Theater of the Absurd, right?”
“Actually, no.” The paper he held descended. “Though I am a fan of their music.”
His head bobbed an affirmative. “Curious. Who is it, then?”
Could I tell him? “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“The Backstreet Boys?”
I burst out laughing at the dated reference. “Why would you think that?”
One shoulder rose in the world’s least committed shrug. “You said it’s embarrassing.”
I wondered if he’d ever heard of any recent pop bands. He obviously kept up with rock music. But I’d been raised by parents who wanted me to appreciate the full spectrum of music, from classic rock to the cheesiest of boy bands. Appreciate. Not necessarily love.
“I actually do like them, full confession. Just not enough to devote time talking about them online.”
“So, who then?” The paper fell to the desk as he leaned forward on his elbows, fingers steepled. “I can keep a secret. Come on. Now, I’m dying to know.”
For the first time I saw the whites of his eyes, and I froze.
Could I trust him? Was it a secret I’d be able to keep forever? Ash wouldn’t stay mum about my dual life indefinitely. And once the forum knew, how long before the connection trickled back upstream? Even Jaclyn had nearly identified me from the little bit I’d shared with her. I bit my lip, nervous now. Was I actually about to confess my alternate identity?
Yes. Why not?
Straightening my spine, I exuded the confidence I didn’t feel and then exploded my protective barrier. “It’s actually Walking Disaster. The site’s called Talking Disaster.”
His eyes widened to nearly normal. “That’s you?”
My surprise matched his. “You know it?”
“Well, yeah. We get trackbacks from your site, and I’ve clicked around. Lots of energy there.” His weathered face cracked out a whole smile. “This is a fortuitous turn of events. You have exactly the youthful vibe I’m hoping to tap into.”
At the words “youthful vibe,” I nearly chortled, but I wanted to be absolutely clear on one point. “So, there’s no conflict of interest or anything, right?”
“Conflict? More like a confluence of interest. Just think about the traffic we could get from the pool of subscribers you’ve collected.”
“They’ll definitely click over if I drop a link to interesting content.”
“They trust you.” His eyes drifted back to the forgotten paper lying on his desk, and he slid it over. “This is the address where Shane said he’d be rehearsing all morning.”
I picked it up. Something had been scrawled in black ink. I could sort of make out the numbers, though if it were a Captcha code, I wouldn’t feel one-hundred percent confident I’d be getting it right. But I had Shane’s phone number, so I politely took the paper, folded it over and tucked it between my thighs.
“Thank you. Can you tell me what exactly you’re hoping for?”
“One of their new songs. Shane promised he’d let you record something they’re working on.”
“Wow.” Shane hadn’t played with an empty hand. My first reaction was stunned delight. Spending my day immersed in rock band pheromones was the closest thing to heaven next to Shane’s bed. A small red flag of warning stirred, but I pushed it down.
“It’s free publicity for them. And I’d like to see what you can do with it.”
As badly as I’d wanted to meet Lars, I suddenly wanted nothing more than to be out of his office and on my way.
“Go talk to Kate about video equipment.”
