Page 13 of Noah
When Janette emailed me, all the confidence I’d been building started to slip. No, I’d never had a real job like this before, but getting called into the office already... Well, didn’t seem good. I’d spent at least ten minutes freaking out in the bathroom, trying to figure out what the hell I’d done and how I could fix it. The thing was, I hadn’t actuallydoneanything yet. I’d been set to work sorting and studying photographs, and I’d been doing so. How could I have been doing that wrong?
Wait,hadI been doing it wrong? How? And how did they know when no one else had been in the room with me? Oh God, were there cameras? Had they been watching me the whole time, making fun of me for how I was doing things? My stomach dropped right out of my body and went rolling along the floor,taking my confidence with it. What had I been thinking, acting like I was so much better than anyone else here? I was stupid. An idiot. I didn’t have any training and I sure as hell didn’t know how to work in a real office with people who’d been doing this for years.
I’d been here for an hour and they were already going to fire me. I just knew it.
I walked into Janette’s office with my skin crawling and my steps faltering, positive that I was about to be sent back to the apartment I’d barely been in. I’d have to go back to that tour with the Authors, tail tucked between my legs, and endure the boys either feeling sorry for me–Rivers, Hudson, and Matt–or making fun of me for thinking I’d had a shot.
Noah.
This. Was. Horrible.
Then I looked up and found Janette, all beautiful ebony skin and natural hair, smiling at me like she was welcoming a long-lost friend.
What?
“Molly, sit,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk.
Right, that didn’t seem like the way you welcomed someone you were about to fire. Or maybe it was. I wasn’t sure. I’d never been fired before.
“You must be wondering why you’re already back in my office,” she said, her smile turning to a cat-like grin.
“Um, yeah,” I stuttered. “I was actually worried that I’d already done something wrong and you were firing me.”
She threw her head back and laughed at that. “No, darling,” she said smoothly. “We don’t fire someone as talented as you on the first day. We always get pictures out of them first.”
My stomach, newly back in its place, jumped out of my body again. Oh my God, I was so out of my league. Then she laughedagain, and I told myself I needed to calm the fuck down. They’d hired me for a reason. I just had to keep remembering that. I needed to put my professional face on and keep it in place.
“Well if you want my pictures, you need to send me out to take them. And then pay me.” I delivered the line with a smile, hoping it looked real.
She nodded once. “Good girl. We’ll train you, yet. You’re in luck, because wearesending you out to take pictures. And I think you’re going to like this assignment. It’s going to be long-term, thought I doubt that’ll be a problem. You haven’t been here long enough to have anyone to miss. You didn’t go out and get a kitten last night or something, did you?”
“Definitely not. I’m not a cat person.”
“Neither am I. I don’t like how much they expect of you. In that case, don’t unpack your bags. You’re going to be gone for abut two months. I’m sending you on tour with an up-and-coming band. We’re doing a feature on them and we want to document their tour. You know the deal: candids of them hanging out together, getting ready for shows. Professional shots of them on stage, of course, but we want the story from backstage. I want to see who the musicians really are and what they think of each other. Think the pillow fight pictures of the Beatles.”
“The pillow fight pictures of the Beatles?” I asked blankly. “I don’t think I’ve–”
She waved that off. “Candid shots, Molly. Show us what it’s like to be a rock star. What it’s like to go on tour and live with the same people on the road for months at a time.”
I chuckled at that. I knew exactly what it was like to live with people for months at a time. I’d been going on tour with the boys since I was eighteen, and before that, we’d all been stuffed into a small orphanage with too few bathrooms.
She looked over her glasses at me and tipped her head. “I see you know exactly what I mean.”
“I do. I’ve been on a few tours myself.”
“Which is exactly why I chose you for this job. You know how it feels to be in that position. You’ll know how to shoot it and make it natural. Use some of that amazing technique of yours. Make them human. Make our readers think they can feel the lights on their faces, hear the boys arguing in the bus in the middle of the night.”
That surprised me. I didn’t know Janette had known about my past, and I sure as hell didn’t think she’d ever looked at my work. I mean sure, she was the one that hired me, but I assumed she’d had someone else do the vetting and then hand her their decision. If she’d actually looked at my pictures and chosen me herself, that changed things. That confidence I’d dropped in the hallway started to come back for real.
“Who’s the band?” I asked. “Do I need to research them before I leave? Actually, when do I leave? Where are we going?”
“You’re starting in Portland,” she said, looking down at what I assumed was an itinerary. “Then traveling into Washington and across the top of the country. Nebraska, Idaho, Montana, down into Missouri and then to Kentucky and Tennessee.”
I paused. That was weird. I knew that route. I’d followed it with the Authors before. Though I supposed plenty of bands took the same routes. Certain cities had the best venues, and if you were a small band–even an up-and-coming one–you’d get a better reception in some cities than others.
Janette slid a couple contracts across the desk to me. “Take these and look them over tonight. They’re nothing special, just NDAs that say you won’t reveal any of the band’s secrets, or ours. Once those are signed I’ll give you all the details about the assignment.”
I glanced at them but didn’t have the bandwidth to think too much about them right now. They’d be a bunch of legal information and that would require a much quieter mind than the one I currently had. And I doubted they held anything important. Just the standard Don’t Tell Anyone sort of stuff. That was easy. Especially if it meant I got to keep my job, and go out on the road for a better assignment than I’d been expecting. I’d come in thinking I was going to be stuck doing editorial work here in LA while I learned the ropes for the magazine. According to my research, that was what the newbies usually did. They didn’t get big, juicy assignments.
