Page 34 of Verses Of Us

Dread filled her bones when all the eyes in the room turned her way.

“Alexis? You down?” Marcus asked.

Others could do the interview. Seasoned reporters, ones with way more experience in the field. But with no reason to refuse such an opportunity, she played along. “Absolutely.”

“Will her name be on the piece?” Marcus asked Marie.

With a tight grin, possibly because she hated Alexis getting credit for a job she’d arranged, Marie nodded. “Of course.”

“Excellent.” With a clap of his hands, Marcus moved on to other matters.

Once the meeting ended, the room emptied, and the staff returned to their desks, the sound of feverish typing and ringing phones filling the air.

“Alexis, my office.” Marie stormed through the cubicles into her office, which sat behind Alexis’s desk.

With her yellow notepad clutched to her chest, Alexis went in and sat across from her boss, a large wooden desk between them. Cluttered, and a complete mess, Alexis itched to tidy it up. She couldn’t understand why her boss was so disorganized.

“Here’s the thing. It’s super hush-hush. I got the email this morning from his manager.” Marie moved some papers around, searching for something. “It’s a quick one, but it has to be at the venue, nowhere else, and it has to be at two p.m. today. I tried to get them to fit me in another time, so I could do it. But he’s a bit of a diva,” she explained, with an exaggerated shake of her head. She stopped shuffling the things on her desk and looked Alexis straight in the eye. “So, I guess it falls on you.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the chance, but wouldn’t someone else be better for this?”

“You don’t think I also thought that?” Marie raked her fingers through her messy hair. “Everyone’s busy and with Aisah still out with the flu, well…” She shrugged, as if this was all the explanation she needed. “OK. Here’s what you need to know.”

Details gushed from Marie’s mouth—the where, the location, the angle and tone she expected from the article—as Alexis scrambled to note everything down. Marie spun her chair around, staring at the ceiling as she spoke.

“Basically, find out where he’s been for the last couple of years. Talk about the tour, his new album, you know, all that good stuff.” Her spinning came to a halt, her eyes set on Alexis. “Do not focus too much on his past, OK? The manager says he’s touchy about that.”

“His past?” Alexis asked. “Who am I interviewing?”

Confused, Marie paused. “Oh, right, I didn’t tell you.” She laughed. “I couldn’t mention it earlier because I knew they’d get nosey and I don’t need anyone fucking this one up.” She glanced over Alexis’ shoulder as if looking for spies. “It’s Keenan Jones, you know, from that boy band in the nineties?”

Alexis’ hand seized and her pen fell to the floor.

“Shit,” she hissed, reaching for it. Her stomach cramped as she did and she swore the walls were closing in on her.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Great.” Alexis coughed. “I think you mean Ciarán.” The name was like glass filling her mouth.

“What’s that?”

“His name’s Ciarán, not Keenan.”

Marie’s scalding glare forced Alexis to drop her eyes to her notepad. “Oh, god, you’re not one of his fans, are you? I can’t have you fucking this up, Alexis. You need to be professional.”

“And I will be.” Stowing her frustration, Alexis forced a smile, then what should have been a laugh, but came out a snort. “Don’t worry, I’m not a fan.”

Marie kept staring, sizing her up. “Good. Make him feel special, but not too much. Don’t inflate his ego. I don’t think he needs it, anyway.” Marie laughed a short, succinct giggle. “I want a good interview. Don’t let me down.”

Alexis nodded and forced another smile. “Gotcha.” She gathered her things. “Thanks for the opportunity, Marie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut the door.”

With that vote of bitter confidence, Alexis walked out, lightheaded, and stumbled into her chair, her legs like jelly.

“Man… I can’t believe she’s letting you out of jail and into the wild,” Brandon, another intern in the arts and culture department, said. He peeked over their shared cubicle wall, a coy smile on his face.

“Me neither.”

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