Page 35 of Your Rhythm
9Stay Forever || Panama
KAY
Shit.Shitshitshit.
“Reading tabloids, Kay? Have you really sunk that low?”
“Very funny, Pierre,” I mutter. “It’s research.”
My eyes stay glued to the computer screen even as I answer him. A story on Sherbrooke Station’s trip to Ottawa has been blowing up in the past few days, and I narrowly missed being a part of it. As I stare at the photo of me ducking down and yanking my scarf up over my face, I feel almost shaky with relief that I managed to hide myself in time.
If anyone recognized me and linked me to Matt, it would only be a matter of time before all theLast Bastiondetails got dug up and dragged into things. Atlas would shut down the story just like they did last time, andLa Gareprobably wouldn’t survive it.Iprobably wouldn’t survive it either. Any damage repair I’d done to my career over the past year would be gone in seconds.
This is why shacking up with rock stars is a bad idea. This is why I have Rule Number Two. I haven’t evenkissedMatt Pearson and it’s already been insinuated that I’m an escort.
Which I have to admit is pretty hilarious, even given the circumstances.
I wonder if Matt thought the same thing when he read it, which he must have done by now. Sherbrooke Station fans have been freaking out. The internal battle between the urge to text him and the equally insistent urge to maintain a professional distance is put to rest when my phone lights up with a message from him.
Kind of have some bad news. Can you talk?
I message back to say I’m at work, and then demand to know what the news is anyway. His reply arrives a few minutes later.
Condensed version of the story: Atlas PR is taking over our media relations, so you’re going to have to reschedule all your interviews through them. Don’t shoot the messenger, okay? Shayla was gonna tell you, but I thought I’d do it and soften the blow by asking you to drinks.
I let my phone clatter onto my desk.
“Pierre, can you please do me a favour and shoot me right now?”
He makes a gun with his fingers and fires it at me.
“One of those days?” he asks, distracted by whatever he’s working on. It’s only when he looks over and sees me dropping my head into my hands that he gets concerned. “Hey,qu’est-ce qu’il se passe? You don’t look so good.”
“I think I just lost my Sherbrooke Station story,” I groan.
“Lost it? How?”
I lift my head up wearily. “It’s hard to explain. I’ll be back, okay? I need to see what I can do about this.”
I grab my phone, intending to head into the hallway and give Matt a call to get more details. Whatever is going on, contacting the Atlas Records PR department is not an option. I doubt they even noticed my first Sherbrooke Station story, but if they’re cracking down on media relations and someone remembers me from the plagiarism debacle, there’s no way they’ll let me near one of their bands. Nerves start to claw at my stomach as I wonder if Shayla already went ahead and mentioned me to them.
A door opens across the room just as I’m leaving my desk. I glance over to see Marie-France poking her head out of her office.
“Kay,es-tu occupée?” she calls out to me.
Technically Iambusy, but I guess I can wait a few minutes and see if there’s any more bad news I have to face.
“Non,” I reply.
We take seats on either side of her desk once I’ve followed her back into her office. She takes one look at me and asks me if I’m all right.
“I’m okay,” I answer. “Just a stressful week. “
She nods as if constant stress is just a fact of life she’s come to accept.
“I take it you’ve heard about that Sherbrooke Station article?” she ventures.
“I have, yes.”
