That made me laugh. “What’s a good fan?”
“Well, I mean, he doesn’t say very nice things about us, or anyone really. He’s not exactly a jerk or anything, but he kind of likes to sensationalize things a bit.”
If there was a sensational Theater of the Absurd website out there other than Jaclyn’s, I’d never come across it. “And he follows you around?”
Shane scratched his chin. “I don’t know what he does, honestly. His site isn’t about us so much as whichever bands he can glom onto. It’s insane what people will do to get a little closer.” He curled his nose, obviously disdainful of that level of overinvestment.
I wondered if anyone might think I’d taken my job only to get closer to Walking Disaster. Obviously, I wasn’t rejecting these invitations, but band access had turned out to be a side benefit to an already golden opportunity.
Surely, I wasn’t the same as Jim.
“So, why’s he here?”
Shane shrugged. “Probably spying on Noah.”
As if that answered the question. I lifted my phone and opened a browser. “What’s the name of his site?”
“Fan something. I wanna sayFan Blog, but that sounds pretty lame. I honestly don’t read it, but he usually introduces himself with a laminate badge like he’s official.”
I Googled, but as I suspected, the name was too vague. I decided I’d ask Ash later and shoved my phone back into my bag.
Shane pushed off the wall. “I mean, he’s got to be pushing thirty. You’d think he’d have a job or something.”
I coughed. “Yeah. You’d think.”
He took my hand. “Speaking of jobs, can I show you around my workplace?”
We followed a fluorescent-lit corridor into a cavernous space that had clearly once been a garage, converted with soundproofed walls, guitars lining the floor, a huge set of drums in one corner, and various other instruments and amplifiers scattered around. My dad would have fainted at the sight. The three aluminum doors that fronted their rehearsal hall had been boarded up, and a makeshift stage stood where the hydraulic lifts had been.
“Wow.” My jaw dropped.
Shane waggled his eyebrows, aware it was a cool-ass space. The whole thing was such a turn-on, I entertained illicit fantasies about doing him on one of those amplifiers.
Sadly, we weren’t alone.
Noah, Micah, and bass player Rick, now standing still with silent guitars, made for a quintessential garage-band tableau. Micah smiled and waved his pick in greeting. Rick set down his bass and lit a cigarette. Noah shot us a glance, then absolutely shredded his guitar with what sounded like a ghostly shriek.
Shane dragged me back into the corridor. “Let me take you on the rest of the tour, such as it is.”
Back the way we came, an office had been transformed into a temporary kitchen with a refrigerator and a microwave. Farther in, what was once a waiting room held a sofa and some other rickety furniture. On the table sat a duffel bag.
Shane palmed his forehead. “Oh yeah, Jo thought to send along some of your clothes and your laptop.”
“That was super nice of her.”
“She also said you’re welcome to stay there tonight still.”
“Oh, I—” hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“But I was kind of hoping—” Red crept up the side of his neck in an endearing display of shyness. Oh, to have five minutes with him alone on an amplifier.
“Let’s see where the day leads, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He backed toward the hallway. “If you really need to work, we can set you up in here. The fridge is filled with snacks and drinks.Mi casa es tu casa.”
I blinked rapidly. If he’d manipulated my day job just to stick me in the corner, I was going to lose my shit. “Uh. Lars expects me to record your new songs. If that’s okay.”
He brightened. “Of course. That was one of my better ideas, yes?”
