Chapter 7

Juno

As cars rushed by and other tourists moved through the busy London streets, I finished my call with my agent. He was calmer now but still a little angry that I almost didn't get interviewed.

I had found my anger disappearing as I thought about what would happen next. I was going to have dinner with Jack Starling and his band, the Vampirates.

Although Keith O'Sullivan, or whoever decided his guests, shouldn't have tried to ditch my interview just to make way for Jack, it had all worked out in the end. Thinking about the interview made me feel embarrassed all over again, however.

I'd been asked about writing a character based on Jack while sitting right beside him. My only relief had been how well he'd taken hearing it. He'd almost deliberately not let it embarrass him, so Keith didn't get the satisfaction of getting to us.

Trying to focus on the city around me for the last few minutes of sightseeing, I pushed it from my mind. I wouldn't ever do another interview on the show again, out of principle, so I could get on with my life.

As I walked the last few hundred meters, I felt my stomach knot again. I was going to the studio where a famous band was recording, and I'd been invited to hang out with them. It was a little surreal, but there was no way I would pass up the opportunity.

I was still a little early, so I slowed my steps and enjoyed walking across a section of road featured on an old famous album cover. I wasn't the only one doing so. Many people stopped in the middle of the road, despite the traffic, so they could take photos.

It made me smile and helped me relax again before finding the studio nearby. People were milling outside there as well, but I already knew the best way through them was to act like I belonged and needed to get to the front door.

Although they didn't part as easily as I'd hoped, and I had to call ‘excuse me' several times, I made it to the door, climbing the majority of the steps alone.

There were a few men just outside the open porch, and the nearest stopped me.

"Sorry, miss, we can't let you inside without some kind of invitation or appointment," he said, his voice holding a slight Southern American twang that made me wonder if this was a personal bodyguard of one of the band members or just a coincidence.

"I know. I was asked to get here about now. I'm the author, Juno Fernsby. I was just recording on the Keith O'Sullivan show with one of the fellas," I said, not wanting to say the name while fans were listening.

The guy frowned almost imperceptibly, his eyebrows flicking closer together for just a moment before he hid it. I waited as if I wasn't worried he'd reject me.

"Do you need to check?" I asked when he simply glanced at his counterpart. "I don't mind waiting if you feel you need to confirm and make sure I'm not yanking your chains."

They still hesitated, but eventually, the guy in front of me shrugged and reached for his radio. Before he could do more than speak a name into it and wait for a response, the door behind him opened. Immediately, the crowd of people behind me, most of them young women, started calling names and screaming.

Jack appeared, and his eyes went wide when he saw me.

"Oh, perfect," he said, reaching for my hand. I placed my fingers in his, grateful I'd wiped any possible sweat off them as I walked up to the building. "I was coming down to tell these two to look out for you, but you're here already. I hope they didn't keep you waiting or try and tell you to get lost."

"No, they were darlings," I replied, smiling and giving the one with the radio a nod.

"What is it?" a voice asked, crackling a little and almost drowned out by a young woman screaming Jack's name at the same time.

"Never mind," the bodyguard said as Jack pulled me into the building and closed the door behind us.

Jack immediately made his way toward the back and right-hand side of the building, weaving through doors and passing others using the space. I looked around at the amazing space, noticing signs that led to studio three and then studio one as we made our way past.

"We're in studio two," Jack continued. "The one the Beatles recorded in. It sounds amazing, but we still have a few bits and pieces to lay down. Want to listen in the control room?"

"I'd love to!" I declared, feeling like I might have died and gone to heaven.

How many people got to listen to one of their favorite bands as they recorded parts of a new album?

Jack took me into a room and gave me a quick introduction to the people inside, although I knew I'd struggle to remember the names. However, everyone was more concerned with what was happening in the studio ahead. We were looking into a reasonable-sized studio space, and the rest of the band were playing various instruments.

I expected him to leave me then, but his part didn't seem to be needed for a moment, and he stayed with me, sitting on the sofa at the back of the room.

A moment later, someone came over to us and offered to get us anything in hushed tones. Jack ordered a soda, so I did the same, delighted to have someone treating me as an equal to the rock star beside me for a moment.

He grinned as the band started playing on the other side of the glass, their music filling the room. Although Jack was sitting beside me and not playing anything or singing, I could hear his distinctive guitar playing on the track and now and then his vocals, his voice backing the lead singer in several places.

It was slightly surreal, but he nodded and seemed to really enjoy listening to it as the band laid down extra sections. At the same time, a cameraman was moving around the recording studio, getting clips of them playing.

"What did you think?" Jack asked as the song finished, and everyone started holding their thumbs up.

"That was amazing. Strange listening to you singing while you were sitting beside me and not singing, though."

"Yeah, it's weird not playing while listening to it, too. But do you think it's a good sound? Like, you get the vibe?"

I nodded, surprised by the seeming desire in his voice to have me approve.

"I really liked the lyrics and the drive it had. And the way it ended. Almost like a plot twist," I elaborated, hoping I sounded as enthusiastic and grateful as I was. How many people got to give feedback on a rock band's song as they were being recorded?

"Fantastic. If we nailed those elements for a storyteller, that makes me happy. Thank you."

"Oh, no, thank you for letting me listen. I feel like I should be pinching myself to see if I'm awake or something."

Jack frowned for a moment and looked thoughtful. The band was finishing up in the recording studio, and the door opened, making me look that way as they came into our room, chatting about how it had gone, too.

A moment later, I thought I felt a sort of tickle to the side of my face. I turned back to Jack to find his face only an inch or two from mine.

"Boo!" he yelled as he did. I jumped, feeling my heart skip a beat and my body tense. A sting of pain shot through my side, but I thought I managed to hide it.

"Nope. You're definitely awake," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he was trying to suppress a laugh. For a moment, I didn't know how to respond, still in a sort of shock, but I began chuckling. As I did, he finally let himself smile, and then I laughed even harder, and he joined me.