Heart Shaped Spotlight Page 4

  * The Email *

  I hated it when my life was in flux. One of the many amazing things that Trisha taught me was that being on a schedule and knowing what was going on actually made me more creative. I’d become accustomed to having an agenda, and a sense of control.

  Now I was in limbo while people all over L.A. and Hollywood fought over where I should be dragged for interviews first. The thought of it was exhausting.

  A knock at my hotel room door made me jump. I don’t know why I was so twitchy.

  Dave was standing there with an odd expression. “I need to show you something,” he said, barging in and sitting on the sofa. Although Dave was a nice, take charge sort of guy, he usually had a bit of a cheeky, playful attitude about him. He ran a hand through his thick sandy brown hair, looking agitated. His serious vibe was out of place.

  “Take a breath, and take this with a grain of salt, okay?” he said carefully. “We don’t know if it’s a hoax. Check your email.”

  I grabbed my phone from the table, opening the latest message he had forwarded. The split second I read the first line, my knees buckled, and I swerved my ass into a chair before I completely fell.

  “Hi. I’m a friend of Trisha O’Reilly. She would truly kill me if she found out that I was contacting you, so please never let her find out. If you really know her, you know that she’s pretty shy, and a very private person. She doesn’t need any drama, so please don’t freak her out. But if you’re ever in Toronto, you might want to drop by Hum 103.1 and say hello to the IT person.”

  My hands began to shake so hard I could barely read anymore. “Book–”

  “Plane tickets to Toronto,” Dave said, scrolling quickly on his phone. “I’m checking flights already.”

  He stopped, looking at me carefully. “What if I get you an interview at that radio station? That way you have an excuse to swing by. And if it’s not her, doing an interview in your old home town is still a worthwhile trip.”

  “Perfect,” I nodded. “Thanks.”

  This was the moment I’d been dreaming of for seven years. All of the hope that had been swirling in my guts now had a focal point.

  The voice of reason in the back of my mind reminded me that she might not want me. She might be married with three kids. She might not be interested in being in a relationship with someone who didn’t have a normal job, and had to travel so much.

  But I might be able to look her in the eyes and ask. That was the most important thing. If I could do that, I could move on with my life in any direction.

  ***

  Dave was a trooper on the flight, trying to brainstorm how to milk the most publicity from the contest win. It wasn’t about the money, thank goodness. I’d ghostwritten three successful albums for giant stars over the past four years. I kept the love songs for myself, but I could still write party rock for whoever had the money.

  The thought of my new band starting with such great momentum filled me with hope. It was a killer group, and the first round of short tours would likely be packed with Love Rocker fans. We just had to convert them to be fans of Hemlock and Emeralds, not just me. Which shouldn’t be a tough sell.

  As the plane began its descent, Dave shot me a look. “This isn’t going to make you lose your focus, right?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “My career always comes first. You know that.”

  He nodded, but his eyes looked tight. “If things change and get messy, I’ll try to help. Just keep me posted.”

  I flashed him a grin. “Thanks, man. It’s always a relief knowing that you’ve got my back.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled. “I’m always getting your back, your coffee, and my fifteen percent.”

  Chapter Seven ~ Trisha

  * Dark Corner *

  Fridays were supposed to be chill. Usually this place was pretty mellow. Today was frantic, and I wasn’t sure why. People were extra irritable, and by noon I felt like the walls were closing in around me. My office wasn’t big enough to pace in, so I headed out to the lobby. Maybe a few laps around the building would chill me out.

  “Did you hear?” Kim squealed as I tried to pass her desk unnoticed. “Nate Roberts is coming by this afternoon for a live interview!”

  I heard the words, but it was like they didn’t fit properly into my brain. “What?”

  “The guy who won Love Rockers.” She was practically bouncing. “He’s been doing interviews in the States, but this is his first Canadian interview. Did you know that he’s from Toronto?”

  “Yeah, I heard that,” I muttered. My hands were already shaking. How could he be coming here?

  “Gary was saying something about testing the video so that we can live-stream his interview,” she said. I hoped that she couldn’t see how flushed and breathless I obviously was. “You should likely go check in with him when you get back from lunch.”

  “No time for lunch,” I muttered, marching to Gary’s office.

  Sure enough, since the publicity surrounding the TV show was such a big deal, they wanted to live stream the interview. Today. At two pm. Slightly less than two hours from right now.

  Thank goodness I was ahead of schedule. Thank goodness I’d already been double-checking everything. I trusted my system, I hoped.

  Preferring machines to people probably wasn't polite, but it was easier for me. I found people too hard to read sometimes. They were easily over-emotional. They didn't always say what they meant. And I was usually too intimidated to ask them enough questions to draw out the real answers.

  With machines and other technology, it either worked or it didn't. If something failed, it was because a part broke, or I needed to figure out another way. Taking personal responsibility for things made me feel more stable.

  Even though our station was pivoting and expanding all the time, sometimes at the edge of our technical limitations, those were the challenges I loved. I was given a brief, a schedule, and I made it happen. It wasn't easy, but it was clear.

  I had to admit, setting up broadcasts for musicians and other celebrities was a bit thrilling. I got to be ten feet away when giant movie stars were being interviewed. I had world-famous musicians complement my cable runs. In the midst of my computer tech job, I had become a sound tech as well, simply because I was the only person handy with the patience for details.

  Any topic that had manuals on the subject, I could easily handle. I just needed a few hours and a coffee.

  I realized that my nervousness about seeing Nate could be disguised as tension about the stream working perfectly. Shifting tension was one of the things that I’d learned from Nate’s paper about anxiety from long ago, and I felt a stab in the center of my heart.

  I still missed him so much, and now that I was finally going to see him, I didn’t know how to feel.

  As I went through every computer, switcher, and piece of gear near the set, it was nearly impossible to focus completely. Where was I going to hide when he was here? They’d need me in the room. I had a little setup in the back corner surrounded by monitors. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me.

  My attention jumped wildly between testing tech issues and trying to quiet my racing heart. By quarter to two, I was trying to make myself believe that he wouldn’t see me in the darkened corner with headphones on.

  There was no way he would be looking for extra faces, I told myself repeatedly. Nate would be laser-focused on the job at hand, as he always was. He would be polite to people, but wouldn’t be looking to introduce himself to everyone in the room. He’d talk to the host and leave. That’s it.

  When I heard people coming down the hallway, I hunched down at my desk. Turning the brightness down on my main monitor so that it didn’t illuminate my face, a small crowd of people came in.

  Gary, the office manager, was showing everyone around. Rosie, our on-air personality who was all dolled up for the video, glided into the room, laughing with the men behind her.

  He strolled into my line of sight, and my breath stopped. Those chee
kbones. Those smoldering gray eyes. The ways his lips quirked a bit unevenly when he was amused.

  Nate. My Nate.

  I had to blink quickly to force the tears away. I didn’t have time to fall apart or get emotional.

  He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that still seemed to be his uniform. Around his neck was a steel guitar pick that he’d scored at his very first concert ever. He’d added an extra chain and some sort of larger charm. Seeing the fabric stretched snugly over his shoulders almost made me forget to blink.

  Hunkering down as low as I could, I glanced at the man in a crisp dark suit hovering behind him. He leaned in to speak quickly in a low voice. He seemed to be in his early thirties, with sandy hair and a businesslike attitude.

  Nate laughed. “I’ve got it. Thanks, man,” he said, handing him his phone.

  The man in the suit got out of the way, sitting to the side, stashing Nate’s phone in a pocket. He must be some sort of assistant or manager. It struck me how different Nate’s life must be. Even farther away from my small, comfortable world. There was no way we had a single thing in common anymore.

  They got settled, and Gary handed microphones to Rosie and Nate. “I hope that handheld is okay,” he said sheepishly. “Our lapel mics are still on backorder. This is our first live stream interview.”

  “Sure, this is great. Thanks,” Nate grinned. He was always so easy going. They could ask him to stand on one foot in ice water and he’d play along. Anything for the audience.

  Rosie went over a few points with him, making sure that she had her facts straight, since this was so last minute. She was clearly staring at him, obviously infatuated, but Nate didn’t seem to notice.

  The door opened, and Nate’s head whipped around to see who was walking in. When he saw Kim bringing in a basket of chilled water bottles, his face absolutely fell. He was back in character in a blink.

  My stomach was churning. My fingers were wooden sticks against the keyboard as I checked the signal, and the feeds for both audio and video.

  They seemed to be ready, and Gary looked around for me. “Are we ready to go live?”

  Ducking even lower, I just gave him a quick thumbs up. Nobody else seemed to notice. “Thanks,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  I had set up the stage monitors so that the guests and hosts could see a ten-second countdown before the red light. Initially, this had been so that I didn’t have to speak with famous people and get nervous. It was extra convenient today.

  “This is going to be a blast,” Rosie said with her sweet, perky energy. She took a look around the room where Gary gave her a big smile and nod.

  Knowing that it took a second or two to start the stream, I hit go as the countdown reached three seconds. Everything locked in perfectly, and I breathed a tiny, silent sigh of relief.

  Then I looked up to the brightly lit stage area just as Nate’s head turned and his stunning eyes met mine. His gentle smile looked relaxed, but I knew those eyes. He was absolutely delighted.

  Fear flooded me as I wondered what he was going to do. But he just gave a nearly imperceptible nod as Rosie introduced him.

  “Today on Hum 103.1 we have the latest Love Rocker winner, Nate Roberts in the studio with us. Nate, the contest just finished two days ago. How are you handling everything so far?”

  Nate smiled at her, then his eyes flicked to me. “I am absolutely wonderful, thanks.”

  Chapter Eight ~ Nate

  * Interview *

  It was her.

  It was my Trisha.

  A rush of heat flashed through me. My fingers began quivering, and I felt revved up as if I had just eaten a bowl of candy and slammed three coffees.

  It was really her.

  From the second I walked into this strange indie radio station, I'd been checking every corner for her. Now that I realized she was in the room with me, my heart couldn't seem to find a consistent rhythm.

  The tiny corner of my brain that was able to remain professional answered Rosie’s questions about the excitement of the contest, how wonderful the other competitors were, and whether I knew from the start I was going to win.

  I had to refocus and laugh at that. "One thing that I learned with my previous band is that you can never please everyone," I said. "I had no idea what the judges were looking for. It could have been anybody's game."

  "Tell us a little about your old band,” Rosie said, batting her eyelashes at me. "They were called Violet Circles, right?"

  “Yeah, it was a great project. We produced one album, and had countless amazing shows. But people sort of thought we were another party rock band, and I need to be something more."

  "Why did the band break up?" she asked.

  I couldn't help wondering if she would be so flippant about asking people about other intensely personal relationships. Yet that seemed to be considered news these days.

  "It was just our time, I guess," I shrugged. “The drummer was going to university, and everyone suddenly realized we needed to move on." She seemed to react well to my biggest grin. "It's nobody's fault of course," I said, my eyes flashing for a split second to the darkened corner.

  "Yes, sometimes these things just happen," Rosie agreed. "So tell us about the new band."

  Another wave of energy surged through me from knowing Trisha was in the room. I was going to find a way to talk to her in just a few minutes. Dave and I had tried to train my fidgety nature to calm itself during interviews so that I didn’t look mental, but it was extra tricky at the moment.

  "It's a truly amazing group of people," I said. “Hemlock and Emeralds is the team I've been dreaming of since I first picked up a guitar. We're still figuring out a few details, but it's all coming together really well."

  "Well, the promotion from your big win certainly can't hurt," Rosie giggled.

  “I hope so. I guess that's the main reason I went on the show in the first place."

  "What about your long lost girl?" she asked.

  I chuckled, trying desperately to seem casual as I glanced around the room. Poor Trisha was peeping over her monitors, and looked frozen, as if she were holding her breath. It almost looked like she was trying not to cry.

  I shrugged. “I have some leads, so I’m hoping I can chat with her soon. She’s a very private person, and it was a truly tasteless move on my part to mention her on TV at all.” I flashed Rosie the smile that tended to help me change the subject. “Love songs are based on the most dramatic moments, but real life is sometimes quite different. My band’s upcoming album is going to be focused more on stories of literature, movies, and other media.”

  “Interesting,” she nodded, leaning closer. “Do you have a title yet?”

  I battled through the same questions I was always asked, trying to put a slightly different spin on them, and mentioning my hometown of Toronto as much as possible. When I finally dared to glance at Trisha again, she seemed to be breathing more normally.

  The interview wrapped up, and Dave gave me his nod of approval. The host and station manager disappeared as if they didn’t want to seem clingy.

  I did my usual circle of the room, thanking the camera guy, and one of the assistants. Then I carefully made my way to the back corner.

  Trisha was dressed in the traditional clothes of a tech – black jeans, black long sleeved t-shirt, with her long, dark hair held back in a tidy ponytail. Her bright hazel eyes met mine, and I simply stared for a second. She was so damn beautiful. Short, curvy, and delicate. Her figure had shifted in the past few years, and now her plain clothing couldn’t hide how incredibly sexy she was. Her curves had filled out gloriously.

  “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand to her as if we were meeting for the first time. Her skin touching mine was such an innocent gesture, but I already felt that tiny spark. It was really happening.

  Trisha held my hand in hers for a moment, accepting the folded up piece of paper that I slipped into her palm. “This show was totally last minute, and I don’t know whose idea it was t
o live-stream it. I hope that it wasn’t too much of a headache for you.”

  She quickly jammed her hand in her pocket. “Um, no. It was okay, I think.” Her nervous fake laugh was exactly how I remembered it. “We always pull through.”

  Her eyes finally met mine straight on, and I held her gaze. “Clever people like you always find a way,” I said softly. “Even when crazy artists mess everything up. We need people like you to hold us together sometimes.” I nodded, stepping back. “Thanks.”

  She gave me a soft smile. It was a tiny bit different than I remembered. More self assured. I liked it. Glancing behind me, nobody was paying us any attention. Leaning close, I whispered, “Princess of all tech at a radio station? I’m so proud of you.” She was close enough that I could have reached out to touch her, hug her, anything. My arms needed to reach for her, so I hooked my thumbs in my pockets.