comprehension. “Right. Good. It’s incredible how much the world is changing.”
Lars could best be described as “one cool cat,” but he didn’t seem to want to chat about the philosophy of his magazine or impart any on-the-job wisdom to me. In fact, he seemed like he’d just smoked a giant bowl and wanted nothing more than to mellow out.
What I did learn from him was that there was no way I would ever be the most underdressed person at the office. If someone had told me he’d been transported directly from the late seventies, I would only wonder why his clothes appeared to have experienced every minute of the ensuing decades. Lars was worn in. I was beginning to think nobody was at all who I thought they would be. Crazy
He continued to watch me through his stoner lids, and it was like we were playing a game of chicken. Finally, I blinked. “Did you need something?”
“Got an interesting visit today.” He tore a rectangular piece of paper from a small pad and tapped it on the desk. “You know Shane Morgan, I think?”
“Indeed, I do.” So, Shane had gotten me noticed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“He tells me you’re a big fan of the band. Said you’d probably get a kick out of hanging at rehearsal with them.”
I coughed. “Well, yes. Who wouldn’t?”
“You’d be surprised.” He glanced at the paper, one eye narrowed further if possible, as if making a decision. Then he turned those slits on me. “Can you write?”
“Write what?”
He leaned back, lifting the mysterious paper off the desk, where it hung between his thumb and forefinger midair. “Articles, blogs, that kind of thing.”
“I—” I took a deep breath “—actually yes. I’ve written my share of blog articles.”
His tongue darted out and took a slow tour of his upper lip before he sat back up. “Where exactly?”
“Fan sites?” I offered this information as if I expected it to be met with derision.
“Fan sites.” He sat there for a moment, considering. “Can you be more specific?”
And there it was. I knew I’d eventually have to come clean about my moonlighting, but I hadn’t expected it to go this way. “Lars, if I were to tell you I ran a fan site for a band, would that be a problem?”
He laughed, though it sounded more like a rock tumbler. “If that were a problem, I’d have fired half the staff years ago. Why? Do you?”
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal.”
“For Theater of the Absurd, right?”
“Actually, no.” The paper he held descended. “Though I am a fan of their music.”
His head bobbed an affirmative. “Curious. Who is it, then?”
Could I tell him? “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“The Backstreet Boys?”
I burst out laughing at the dated reference. “Why would you think that?”
One shoulder rose in the world’s least committed shrug. “You said it’s embarrassing.”
I wondered if he’d ever heard of any recent pop bands. He obviously kept up with rock music. But I’d been raised by parents who wanted me to appreciate the full spectrum of music, from classic rock to the cheesiest of boy bands. Appreciate. Not necessarily love.
“I actually do like them, full confession. Just not enough to devote time talking about them online.”
“So, who then?” The paper fell to the desk as he leaned forward on his elbows, fingers steepled. “I can keep a secret. Come on. Now, I’m dying to know.”
For the first time I saw the whites of his eyes, and I froze.
Could I trust him? Was it a secret I’d be able to keep forever? Ash wouldn’t stay mum about my dual life indefinitely. And once the forum knew, how long before the connection trickled back upstream? Even Jaclyn had nearly identified me from the little bit I’d shared with her. I bit my lip, nervous now. Was I actually about to confess my alternate identity?
Yes. Why not?
Straightening my spine, I exuded the confidence I didn’t feel and then exploded my protective barrier. “It’s actually Walking Disaster. The site’s called Talking Disaster.”
His eyes widened to nearly normal. “That’s you?”
My surprise matched his. “You know it?”
“Well, yeah. We get trackbacks from your site, and I’ve clicked around. Lots of energy there.” His weathered face cracked out a whole smile. “This is a fortuitous turn of events. You have exactly the youthful vibe I’m hoping to tap into.”
At the words “youthful vibe,” I nearly chortled, but I wanted to be absolutely clear on one point. “So, there’s no conflict of interest or anything, right?”