Page 54 of Hard Rock Deceit
I pushed some of my hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ears. I met August's eyes, ignoring the interviewer, ignoring the band, speaking onlytohim.
"You said I hadpassion."
"Interesting," the interviewer drawled. She flicked her gaze between me and August,searching.
I quickly glanced away, fiddling with mycamera.
She continued asking me questions. With August's silent support, I managed to answer most of them, talking about my artistic background, my education, my previous work. I'd begun to actually relax into it when she said the words I'd beendreading.
"So what made you want to be aphotographer?"
"I suppose—" my throat closed up, nerves getting the better of me. "It's a way to expressthings."
"What kind of things?" sheasked.
"My thoughts. Feelings. Emotions." I flushed andlookedaway.
Auguststoodup.
"That should be it for the night, yes?" August spoke directly to her and her cameraoperator.
I heard the woman start to argue and plead for more time, but August began to usher them outthedoor.
I fled to my room, glad for the chance to escape. I took a moment to shake off any residual nerves, and started to get readyforbed.
I'd never liked being asked about my work. Why did it matter what my thought process had been while taking the photos? Why did it matter what my inspiration was? Would knowing what I'd been feeling change how the person viewed myphotos?
I didn't like that idea. I didn't like the idea of baring my soul to the public for consumption. I put enough of myself into my art. I had to keep some parts of meprivate.
I'd just stepped out of the bathroom, calmer now with my teeth brushed and face washed, when my doorcreakedopen.
August peeked hisheadin.
"You doing okay?" he asked. "Haven't thrown up or climbed out thewindow?"
"I managed to suppresstheurge."
He closed the doorbehindhim.
"I'm proudofyou."
Isnorted.
"I barely managed to make myselfcoherent."
"You did something that scared you and made it through. Babysteps."
As I contemplated his words, his eyes dropped, taking in the tiny tank top and sleeping shorts I'd put on for bed. A simmering heat glinted behind those iceblueeyes.
My nipples hardened into stiff peaks. "Did you know she was going tointerviewme?"
His gaze was locked on my chest, not trying to be subtle in showing hisinterest.
I remembered his words from thetourbus.
The next time he got me alone he was going to make me scream forhours.
"No," he said. "I would have warned you if I'dknown."
