The Heartbreakers (9 page)

I wasn’t expecting a call.

A week had passed since my adventure in Chicago, seven full days since Oliver and I said good-bye. Dad had taken time off from work for Cara’s homecoming, and we’d spent most of our time curled up in the living room watching classic movies or sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. For our birthday we went to a local park, enjoyed a picnic, and watched the fireworks for the Fourth. It wasn’t a beach day in South Carolina, but it was still nice.

My life reverted to the boring routine that had existed before my path collided with the world’s most famous boy band.

Or so I thought.

Today, it was just Cara and me—Mom and Drew were in Minneapolis for his class registration, and Dad was back at work. Cara had dozed off some time ago to
E! News
, but I refrained from changing the channel to something I actually liked. Instead, I was skimming through one of the books my mom checked out of the library for Cara when my ears perked. A small part of me was hoping to hear anything about the Heartbreakers or Oliver.

I had made the decision not to call him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; I did, but I also knew that nothing was ever going to happen between us. He was a world-famous musician, and I was just normal, boring Stella. I’d had my one Cinderella night, and I didn’t want to ruin its magic with a letdown. By not calling, I was figuratively closing the door on Oliver Perry.

It wasn’t working very well. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop thinking about him or how I’d felt when he kissed me.

When my phone rang, the book flew from my hands and hit the floor with a flutter of pages.

“Hello?” I answered in a whisper, not wanting to wake Cara. I slipped out of her room, carefully closing the door behind me.

“Is this Stella Samuel?” a man asked on the other end of the line.

“Speaking.” I settled onto the worn couch in our living room.

“Darling!” he exclaimed, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear so I didn’t go deaf. “I’m so excited to finally talk with you.”

“Sorry, but who’s this?”

“Oh, how silly of me. My name is Paul Baxter. I’m the Heartbreakers’ publicist. I wanted to speak to you about some photographs you took of the band.” My back instantly straightened. Why was the Heartbreakers’ publicist calling about my pictures? When had he even seen them? “Stella? Hello?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Um, you mentioned my photographs?”

“Yes, yes! Alec showed me the shots you took a few weekends ago.”

“Oh, right,” I said, remembering the email I’d sent to him.

“You’re quite talented with a camera. There’s this quality about your pictures that I can’t put my finger on. It’s like—” Paul paused as he tried to explain himself. “I suppose this sounds cheesy, but you have a knack for capturing the energy in a moment.”

For at least three full seconds my mind was completely blank. Paul’s praise was so unexpected, so unbelievable that nothing he said registered in my mind. But there was warmth flowering in my hands and feet, the feeling growing and spreading through my body like a vine, and finally my brain jolted out of its lag.
The
Heartbreakers’ publicist likes my work?

“Stella, are you still there?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice squeaking. “Sorry. My head’s all jumbled up right now. I don’t even know what to say. You really like my stuff?”

I could hear Paul smiling into the phone. “Cross my heart and hope to die. You’re phenomenal, and that’s why I’m interested in working with you.”

There was a flutter of lightness in my chest and head, and I didn’t know if I was going to pass out or float away. Was this a joke?

I’d always hoped to make a living from my photography, but I also knew it wasn’t the most realistic career in the world. That’s why I’d decided to go to college before pursuing my real interest. Maybe I’d get a degree in advertising or marketing and somehow spin that into a commercial photography gig. Or maybe by the time four years were up I’d have discovered a completely different passion, and photography would fade into a high-school hobby.

But Paul’s offer could change everything. Suddenly a dream was in the foreground of my life, closer than it had ever been before. How was that even possible? I was proud of my work because it meant so much to me, but I never considered it good. Not like Bianca’s. Did Paul really want to hire a teenage girl with no professional training?

He dove right into his proposal. “My job with the band is to generate and manage the Heartbreakers’ publicity. Think of me as a bridge between the boys and the public. Now, it’s no secret there are rumors about the Heartbreakers splitting up. Some say there’s tension between the boys, and others talk about too much pressure from the label. Regardless, it’s my job to squash those rumors—they’re poisonous—but the more I try to quiet the buzz, the louder it gets.”

Paul sighed into the phone, and even though I’d never met him, let alone finished our first conversation together, I felt bad. The stress in his voice was evident, all his earlier cheerfulness gone, and the rumors seemed to be poisoning him as well.

Why
in
the
world
is
he
telling
me
all
of
this?

“Sounds frustrating,” I said carefully, “but I’m a little confused. Is there something you think I can do to help?” As I spoke, I shook my head, struggling to believe the words coming out of my mouth. A lot had changed since my trip to Chicago—one week ago I would never have offered to help the band I disliked so much.

Paul sighed again, this time in relief. “As a matter of fact, there is. None of my normal strategies are working, so I’ve been toying with an idea that’s a bit unorthodox. Tell me, do you have any experience with blogging?”

“Not really,” I admitted. I’d thought about posting some of my pictures on Tumblr in the past, but I’d always chickened out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Paul said quickly. “For this project, I want to turn my focus away from the rumors. Instead, I need to concentrate on showing the world that the Heartbreakers are stronger than ever.”

“Okay?”

“You managed to capture the band when they were goofing off and being themselves.”

“We were just hanging out. I’m still not sure what you’re asking of me.”

“Stella, I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen the boys look that happy,” he said, “and I want more of that—it’s gold. What’s I’m proposing is that you run an official photo blog for the Heartbreakers. You’ll take pictures of the band, shots of them doing everyday things like hanging out and having fun.”

“So more pictures like the ones I took the other weekend?” I asked.

“Exactly like those. You’ll also be responsible for the actual blogging. With each picture you post, there should be a short description of what’s happening. Talk about your time with the band so fans feel like they are there experiencing the moment with you.”

I paused. “But how will I take more pictures?”

“From what I’ve heard, you made fast friends with the boys. All you have to do is hang out with them. I’m positive you’ll get plenty of material to work with.”

“Hang out with them? Like on a regular basis?” How the hell was that going to work? The Heartbreakers were in a new city every other day.

“Yes, of course. You’ll join us on tour. I’ve never done something like this before, so it will be a learn-as-we-go experience for both of us, but I really think an out-of-the-box approach could be successful. What do you think? Are you interested?”

I took a deep breath. “Truthfully, this is all a bit overwhelming.”

“Completely understandable,” Paul said quickly. “I threw lots of information at you, and I’m sure it’s a lot to process. Why don’t you take a few days to think things over and then we can talk?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I told him.

Paul gave me his number in case I had any questions, and we made plans to speak at the end of the week. After hanging up, I collapsed back into the couch.

My head was spinning. I’d just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, the type of job people killed for. An uncontrollable grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

“Stella, professional photographer,” I said. The words made me giggle, but saying them out loud made it feel real. Someone wanted to hire me as a photographer. Scratch that. Not just someone. The publicist for the Heartbreakers wanted to hire me. “Oh my God, I have to tell Cara!”

Jumping up, I shoved my phone in my pocket. As I raced back down the hall I somehow felt taller, bigger, stronger—ready to take anything on. The feeling didn’t last long.

When I reached the door to Cara’s room, I stopped. She had decorated it with pictures of the three of us. It was a collage of our childhood: Drew, Cara, and I in matching outfits as babies, the first day of kindergarten, standing outside Cinderella’s castle at Disney World, waiting at the bus stop in high school. The more I studied the pictures, the more I was overwhelmed with a sense of dread.

I’d wanted an opportunity like this for so long, a chance to go off on my own, and this job was more than I could ever hope for. But instead of being ecstatic, I felt a slow, paralyzing coldness cascade from my head to my feet. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so terrible, but I couldn’t let Cara see that I was upset. Before I could talk to her, I needed time to think about Paul’s offer.

Using my sleeve, I wiped away the water building in my eyes before I opened the door. When I stepped inside, Cara was awake and sitting up in bed.

“Hey,” she said. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“The living room,” I said. “Mom called.” The smile I’d forced onto my face quivered, and I hoped Cara didn’t notice.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she squinted at me.

“Yup,” I said in the most cheerful tone I could muster. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you’re lying to me.”

“What? Am not!” I said quickly, but I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. “Why would I lie to you?”

“Well, considering I just got off the phone with Mom, I know you weren’t talking to her,” Cara said, crossing her arms. “So I don’t know, Stella. You tell me.”

Shit. There was a sudden ache in the back of my throat, and with each passing second, it grew harder and harder for me to swallow. What was I going to tell Cara now? There was no way she’d drop the subject. And once she found out what that was, I wouldn’t even be given a chance to consider my options. Cara would want—no, she’d demand that I take the job.

“Cara,” I said, taking in a shaky breath. “Can you please just let it go? I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Maybe if you’d just said that from the start, sure. But you lied to me, Stella. And the only logical explanation for why you’d do that is because you don’t want to tell me something,” she said, her nostrils flaring. Then in a much quieter tone she added, “What could possibly be so bad that you’re afraid to talk to me about it?”

In that moment Cara sounded so dejected and lost that it felt like all the energy was suddenly wrenched from my body. I slumped into the armchair by her bed and gave in. “The Heartbreakers’ publicist called me today,” I said, staring down at my hands as I clasped them together in my lap. “He offered me a photography job working for the band.”

At first Cara didn’t say anything, but then she exploded. “Shut up! Are you serious? That’s amazing, Stella. It’s like the perfect job for you and—” She stopped gushing. “Wait. You don’t look excited. Why don’t you look excited?”

I didn’t have a plausible explanation. She was right; I should be over the moon. But when I let myself imagine how amazing it would be to go off with the band, to turn my passion into a potential career, there was a horrible feeling in my stomach, like it had frozen solid.

And that’s when I realized why I didn’t want to tell Cara about the job—not because I needed time to think it through, but because I’d already made my decision. A long, low sigh whistled from my mouth, and my hands went limp. “Because,” I said finally, “I don’t think I’m going to accept.”

Cara blinked. “Are you crazy?” she exclaimed seconds later, leaning away from me as if I’d said something unforgivable. “You love photography.”

“I’d have to join the band on tour, and I can’t leave,” I said, shaking my head. It didn’t make sense, but there was a fluttering in my lungs, the level of my anxiety escalating the more I thought about leaving. “You’re in the middle of your treatment and—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Cara said in a deadly voice. Her sudden mood change was startling, and I leaned away as she bared her teeth at me.

“What?” I asked, my voice jumping up an octave. “Why are you mad?”

“You’re making this about me.”

“Of course not, Cara,” I said in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m just prioritizing, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Prioritizing?” she snapped. “Stella, you’re putting your entire life on hold.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“Really?” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “If that’s the case, why’d you defer school?”

I scoffed. “You didn’t actually expect me to leave when you’re sick again, did you?”

“Drew is.”

“That’s different and you know it,” I said, my eyes flicking up so I could glare at her. “He’ll only be an hour and a half away. I’d be in a completely different state where I would never get to see you guys.”

Cara’s head dropped, and she closed her eyes as she took a moment to compose herself. Three long seconds passed before she looked back up at me. “Is that really so bad?” she asked, her voice a half whisper.

My chest hitched. “Don’t—don’t you think so?” How could Cara be okay with me leaving?

“No, I don’t,” Cara said. “News flash, Stella. We’re not always going to be together, and you need to stop acting like it. The thought of you passing up such an amazing opportunity because of me…” She shook her head. “There are no words.”

“You have to understand. If I leave and something happens—”