I sat across from the Rolling Stone editor in his office overlooking midtown Manhattan.
I’d arrived 15 minutes early for my meeting. I thought I was there to interview for some lowly staff position. Layout grunt… gofer… toilet scrubber.Actually, I hoped and dreamed it was a staff position. As desperate as I was, I would have taken an unpaid internship.I mean, come on. It was Rolling Stone.Glen the editor sat across the desk from me, hands folded, serene. He was bald on top with curly hair around the sides, and he wore black, plastic-frame hipster glasses. His personal sense of style was somewhere between 70’s Rocker and College Professor.“Kaitlyn Reynolds. Finally we meet. Good to put a face with the voice over the phone.”“Same here. Nice to meet you, too.”“Journalism degree from Syracuse, right?”“Yes.”“When did you graduate?”“A year ago.” I put on a polite smile. “Almost to the day.”“I read the pieces you emailed me. Not bad. Not great… but not bad.”Not great… but not bad.My temper spiked a little bit. I’m a bit of a hothead sometimes.But I calmed myself down by thinking, When an editor at Rolling Stone says your stuff isn’t bad, ignore the ‘not great’ part.“Well, I’m still working on building up my portfolio – ”Glen interrupted me, ignoring what I was saying. “There was something I especially liked, a short story you wrote for the Syracuse literary magazine.”I frowned. “I… didn’t include that in the email.”“I know. I went and tracked it down on the internet. I liked it. Had a distinctive voice I don’t really see in your articles.”My jaw set a little. “Um… thank you?”Glen smiled. “I’m just saying I think you’ve got it in you to be a very good writer. It hasn’t come out yet, but you have a lot of potential. But you’re going to need to bring it out quick if this is going to work.”My heart raced.This sounded like it might be something better than a toilet-scrubbing position.I swallowed. “Are you… are you offering me a job?”“Not a ‘job,’ per se. But we want to give you a shot at a feature article. Shanna didn’t tell you?”Shanna was my college roommate from freshman year at the University of Georgia. We lost touch when I went to Syracuse, but we stayed F******k friends – which basically means I just read what she posted on her wall. She moved to New York City a couple of years before I did. When I announced on F******k I was moving, too, she told me to look her up. That’s how we rekindled the friendship. We occasionally had dinner when I had the extra money (which wasn’t often) and when she wasn’t seeing three different guys at once (which was practically all the time).I was starting to get dizzy. A shot at a feature article. “No, she was pretty vague about the whole thing.”Glen grimaced. “Yeah… she said you might not be that happy with the assignment.”Two minutes ago, I would have scrubbed toilets for free.Now he was talking ‘feature article.’‘Might not be happy with the assignment’?HA.I was fighting to get pieces published in crappy independent newspapers. You know, the kind mostly devoted to club ads listing what bands were playing, with dubious ‘massage’ ads in the back.As for my online endeavors, the Huffington Post had turned me down three times in the last month.I couldn’t even give my writing away.And now I was talking with an editor at Rolling Stone about a feature article.There was nothing I wouldn’t do for a break like this. Undercover hooker? ‘Day in the life of a sewage worker’? Pro bono proctology exams? I was there.“I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” I laughed, a little too giddily. “I mean – what exactly do you want me to do?”He settled back in his seat.“Shanna told me you once dated Derek Kane.”My face froze. I could feel every individual muscle straining to keep my smile in place.Shit.Please God, not this.Anything but this.Derek Kane was currently the hottest thing going in rock. And not just because his band had three singles currently in the top 20, with ‘If There’s A Next Time’ poised to hit number one in the next week or two.No. He was also the most gorgeous guy to front a rock band since Jim Morrison.Six feet tall… black hair… chiseled face… cheekbones to die for.Most rockers outside of Death Metal are scrawny little dudes with pasty bird chests and no muscles. Not Derek. He looked more like an underwear model, with a muscled chest, incredibly strong arms, and abs you could scrub laundry on. Broad shoulders, muscular legs, and an ass that made you want to tear off his pants. Some women at his concerts occasionally did.He also had the most intense, gorgeous green eyes you’ve ever seen. Like emerald ocean water warmed by the sun.Of course, not many people knew that, because he never let himself be photographed without sunglasses on. Never performed without them. Every candid shot in every gossip rag always had him with his trademark Maui Jims wrapped around his face, his beautiful eyes hidden from the world.I only knew what they looked like because I had met him four years ago. Back before he was a Rock God.I had known him for exactly two weeks.The last time I saw him, we’d spent the night together. I’d told him I loved him… and then I got in my car and drove away, tears streaming down my face.I never saw or heard from him again.But it’s not what you think.However, walking away from him that day was probably the single worst mistake of my life.Now I was afraid I was going to make an even bigger one.I stared at the editor. My smile was still in place, but it was more like a waxworks expression, it was so fake. “Um… what is it that you want, exactly? Because I’m not doing some kiss-and-tell piece.”Glen waved his hands as though to ward off bad mojo. “Oh, no no no no no. Nothing like that.”“…what, then?”“Well, as you know, Kane is notoriously averse to the press.”Actually, I did know that. Just because I hadn’t talked to him since our final day together didn’t mean I hadn’t been keeping tabs on him.‘Notoriously averse to the press’ was kind of like saying ‘The Pope isn’t tremendously fond of gay marriage.’Derek hated the press. Hated them. With a vengeance bordering on lunacy. He’d go on shows to perform, no problem – Letterman, Conan, Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Kimmel. He’d go on Ellen and banter with her.But what he would not do was talk to the press. Not Rolling Stone, not Spin, not The New York Times, not the Anytown USA Herald. He hadn’t for years.Which had the curious effec
It was the spring of my Freshman year in college, two weeks away from finals. I was in my dorm room at the University of Georgia, reading up for a test the next morning in my English Lit class, trying to ignore the phone call from three days earlier that was still playing in an endless loop in my head.“Are you seeing anybody?”“No, Kevin, I’m not. You know I’m not.”“You’re not attracted to anybody, are you? If you are, I wish you’d just come out and tell me right now and be honest about it.”“God, how many times do I have to say it?”“Don’t curse at me, Kaitlyn.”“I wasn’t – fine. Sorry.”“Well – are you?”“Am I what?”“Attracted to anybody else?”“NO! GOD, how many times do I have to – ”“I told you, don’t curse – ”“I wasn’t fucking cursing, Kevin! NOW I’m fucking cursing!”“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”“You don’t even hear me when I DO talk to you!”“Well, maybe we shouldn’t talk for awhile, then.”“…Kevin…”“Maybe we should take a break.”“Kevin, come on – there’s
I heard the key fumble and scrape noisily across the lock. It was the sound I called ‘the Drunk Doorbell’ – a sure sign that Shanna was blasted.It was usually accompanied by ‘the Drunk Disclaimer.’“Shhhh,” she giggled out in the hallway. “We gotta be quiet cuz I got a roommate…”Ah, there it was.“I’m awake,” I called out. “You don’t have to be quiet.”The lock clicked and the door crashed open, and Shanna stumbled into the room. “Oh, thas’ good…”I turned around from my desk to look at her. She was cute – not gorgeous, but she had a great smile and knew how to work a push-up bra. And she was very outgoing. I’d had a lot of practice in fending off guys – most of them assholes, some of them charming – but I never, ever flirted with anybody. Shanna didn’t just flirt, she manhandled.“I didn’t wake you up, did I?”“No.”“It’s okay, right?” she asked, her eyes defocused, her body weaving slightly. “I haven’t had a Shanna Night in… awhile… right?”That’s what we called the ‘one night a w
But I played it as cool as I could, and gave him a You are SO full of shit smirk. “Studying’s important? Really.”He matched me grin for grin. “It obviously is to you.”Shanna was getting pissed that Derek was ignoring her. So she played her trump card.“Kaitlyn has a boyfriend,” she announced loudly.As soon as she said it, my stomach twisted with guilt – and anger.“No I don’t. We broke up three days ago, remember?” I snapped.“You always break up and get back together,” she said petulantly, then turned to Derek. “They’re high school sweethearts. They’ll be back together by tomorrow night, just watch.”In addition to my anger and guilt, I also felt a tiny bit of fear – that Derek would lose interest in me.I reprimanded myself. I was bad to feel that way. Shanna was right, I’d probably be back with Kevin in another couple of days.And if I kept talking to Derek, it would just confirm all of Kevin’s worst accusations.It’s better if he loses interest now, I told myself dejectedly.Bu
The answer sent thrills through my belly.It was obvious that he was flirting with me… and brazenly, at that.But I struggled to keep the upper hand. “It’s the wrong question,” I said.“Oh? What’s the right question?”“What does an individual woman want? Women aren’t all the same. They don’t want the same things.”“Well… what do you want?”Oh my God.His voice…I was melting at the sound of it.And then my roommate spoke up.“I know what Shanna wants,” Shanna slurred from her bed. “Shanna wants to get laid.”Then it hit me how much of a bitch I was being. She’d gotten this guy; she’d brought him back; and here I was, stealing him away from her. Me, with a boyfriend.Well, an ex-boyfriend… who would probably be my boyfriend again within 24 hours.Time to bail.“I should leave you two,” I said, and moved to go.Derek put out his hand. “No – stay. We’re having a very interesting conversation here.”“About the Wife of Bath,” I gently mocked him, totally not believing him.“And the Wife
Derek was still watching me hesitantly, like he was afraid I might be judging him.That was the exact same way I’d felt before, when he’d asked me what I wanted out of life. Afraid of judgment. Afraid of being made fun of.Only difference was, he’d opened up to me, totally and completely.“That was really beautiful,” I said softly.He relaxed. “Thanks,” he said, and flashed that sexy, charming grin.I think it was the grin that broke the spell.I went from seeing the magic and wonder of a child entranced by music, to seeing the incredibly good-looking guy who knew all the girls were into him.I mean, I still felt like everything he’d said to me was real… but for the first time, I considered the possibility that it had also been a performance.I gave him an impish little smile. “And you’ve never told that story to any other girl, have you.”“No. Never,” he said solemnly, though he nodded his head ‘yes’ as he said it.I laughed – at least he was honest (or semi-honest) about his bullsh
Glen stared at me like I’d just turned down a million dollars for doing nothing more than writing a book report.“What?” he asked, stunned.“No,” I croaked, fully aware I was throwing away the best opportunity of my career thus far. Maybe even the best opportunity of my entire career, even if it lasted four decades. “Sorry.”“You do understand what I’m offering you, right?”“To write an article on Derek Kane.”“And the band,” Glen stressed, as though that might be the piece of information I had overlooked.“Yeah. No thank you.”“Not just a half-page fluff piece – I’m talking a full-on, six-page spread. I mean, if you turn in a good enough story, we’re potentially talking the cover.”“Yeah. Thank you, but no.”The longer he stared at me, the more his disbelief turned to anger. “You do realize that is a one in a million offer, right? You don’t just get handed the cover of Rolling Stone – not when you’re some unknown writer a year out of college. I mean, you realize that, right?”“Yes, a
Shanna was cold as ice to me the next morning – and it wasn’t just her hangover. She gave me the glare of death the entire time I was getting ready, though she didn’t say anything.Finally I turned around and blurted out, “I didn’t sleep with him.”“What a coincidence,” she sneered. “Neither did I.”I hustled out of there as fast as possible and went to my English class.I know Shanna was pissed, and she had every right to be – but it’s not like I’d wangled a hot new boyfriend out of the deal.In fact, I was absolutely sure I would never see him again. Not like ‘see’ as in ‘go out on a date with,’ either.‘See’ as in ‘run into around town.’I had resigned myself to that fact for many reasons.He was an incredibly good-looking guy (incredibly good-looking), in a band, cool, charismatic, funny, surprisingly smart – and he was used to picking up women and sleeping with them the same night. He’d had a brief interruption the previous night, that was all. For whatever reason, he had aband