Page 24 of Out of the Blue

I flip the camera over, checking out all the buttons and settings. Sweet! I vow to take a ton of good photos and videos of Joey performing to show my gratitude.

Holding my new present up, I start snapping shots of the room and capture each of the guys. I flip through the images, pleased with the quality. I play with the settings some more, finding a way to post directly onto social media from the camera. All of my limbs feel lighter.

Is this what happiness feels like?

The band leaves the room, and I jolt out of my stupor. Cradling my new camera, I follow, documenting their every movement. They’re about halfway through their set when I return to the green room to sort through all the photos. Fans go crazy for these shots, especially when they’re posted during a performance.

Photos of Dwight banging on the drum set make me smile. His face is etched in concentration, with beads of sweat flying off his hot bod. Nice. I post that one with the caption “Banging out a hard beat.”

Several pictures of Maurice at the keys are pretty decent, although none really call to me. I keep scrolling through my images until I stop on one. His head is thrown back while his fingers rip at the keys. Nice. This one goes up with “Feeling the keys in Connecticut.”

Joey’s next up. Because of everything he’s been going through thanks to theFirst Rumorsarticle, I want this one to capture his essence. Several shots feature him interacting with the crowd, which are very good. But not gripping. Sighing, I return to the beginning of the roll. And pause on the third one. In it, he’s holding his phone to his chest, eyes closed, right before the band hits the stage. Must’ve been talking with Cheri. It’s sweet and loving and he’s jazzed. My own excitement at finding this photo bottoms out. Wish I knew the feeling.

Before I can post this one, I should at least ask Cheri for permission. Since I’ve been meaning to speak with her anyway, this might provide a good excuse. I pull up her contact info and FaceTime her. After some pleasantries, I dive into the reason for my reaching out. “I wanted to say thanks for this amazing new camera, Cheri.” I hold it up to the videocam.

She glances at the camera. “It was Joey’s idea. But you deserve it for what you’ve done. I really appreciate how you portrayed what happened with Shane, without sensationalizing his, um, passing.”

Staring at the floor, I take in her praise. “I’m happy you liked what I did.”

Shoulders moving on a big sigh, Cheri says, “You diffused a potentially awful situation. The camera was the least we could do for you. Besides, it helps the band out. Better photos to post, and all that.”

Her compliments are foreign to me, so I push forward with the reason I called in the first place. “And toward that end, I wanted to ask if it would be okay for me to post this photo?” I text it to her.

She sucks in her breath. “It’s so—personal. But, so long as you don’t say who he was talking with, feel free to post it.”

I nod. “How about a caption that says, ‘Getting into the music zone.’?”

“Oh, I love it!” She squints as she examines the photo. “Would it be okay with you if I framed it?”

In my veins, my blood buzzes. I wrap my hair around my finger and pull, unable to believe she’d want to actually keep a photo of mine, little less frame it. Since she expects a response, I find my voice. “Of course. You never need to ask.”

Cheri smiles at me, and her whole face transforms as the sadness lifts, however briefly. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing.”

“You’re really good at this. The band’s lucky to have you on their team.”

Her positivity is confounding. Does she really like me? Nah. Probably stems from how I counteracted the article and she didn’t have to do anything. “Just doing my job.” I disconnect the call, grab a chair, and post the approved photo of Joey.

One band member left. Trent. Why didn’t I do him first? I skip through some photos until I land on his tall, swimmer’s bod topped with those short, intriguing dreadlocks. My fingers itch with wanting to grab onto them.Stop it, Cordelia.

This is why I left him for last.

Sighing, I flip through the shots of him, which are roughly double the rest of the band. Well, he is their frontman. I snort. As if his status is the reason I have so many pictures of him.

I like a few and try to decide among them. In one, he’s smiling at the audience, although it seems to be a fake smile. In another, he’s playing his guitar but the positioning makes it not such a great shot. Then there’s one with him singing, yet the way he’s grasping the microphone makes me think he’s using it to remain upright rather than to amplify his voice.

Frustrated, I go to the beginning of the roll and start fresh, hoping something will jump out at me. No, no, no. Ugh. Why is he being so difficult?

Well, you beat a hasty exit after giving him a blow job the other night.

Frowning, I move on to the next image. And freeze. It was taken just before TLR hit the stage. He’s last in line, and Dwight’s already striding toward his drum set. Maurice’s swinging his wrists and Joey’s fiddling with his bass. Trent, however, isn’t moving. Rather, the photo shows him standing stock still, his head tipped toward the ceiling, kissable lips pursed. His cheeks are drawn inward. But it’s his eyes. Rounded. Scared. Exposed. I suck in my breath at how fearful he looks. No way can I post this photo.

I progress to the next screen and keep moving forward until I reach the end. Nothing grabbed me. Shit. From the stage, Trent’s introducing the band members before their last song. Maybe something will pop up now?

Without a backward glance, I rush to the side of the stage and snap every possible photo of Trent. Something has to be post-worthy. Right before the song ends, I review my shots on the way back to the room. One of which halts me in my tracks. In it, Trent’s rocking out on his guitar. More like fucking it. My girlie parts tingle. Guess I found the winner. I post the final shot with the caption, “Who wants to be Trent’s guitar?”

The guys burst into the middle of the room, exchanging high-fives and pumped from their performance. The tour manager assigned to TLR, Raine, appears almost out of nowhere and ushers them over to a meet-and-greet. I follow, hoping to chronicle this event for their social media pages. With the goal of pushing theFirst Rumorsarticle further and further down in searches. Yeah. That’s my only goal.

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