Page 91 of Kind of Famous
Sorry, DF. On topic, did anyone notice whether they played any other new songs?
Chapter Twenty-Four
After such a killer weekend in which literally all my rock n’ roll fantasies came true, I worried I’d lose the thrill of going to the office. But it would take me about a thousand years to fail to be awed every single time I came up out of the subway into Midtown Manhattan. The small-town girl in me couldn’t even pretend to adopt an air of nonchalance about the big city.
Once I got to my desk, I settled back into my groove and remembered why I loved doing what I did. Ajit had helped me install coding software and showed me around the source files. It was better than constantly asking him what logic they’d used behind every feature or how they might implement something new. The code was a maze and a puzzle, and time slipped by much more quickly while I tried to navigate the complex web.
Suddenly it was time for lunch. I grabbed my purse and headed out where I got in line at a cart to buy my new favorite food: street meat. I carried it over to a ledge to enjoy the warmth and get some sun, legs stretched out.
“Can I join you?”
Without waiting for an answer, Gabe sat beside me with his own sandwich wrapped in the aluminum foil.
“It’s a free country.” I kept eating. Damn, the lamb was too delicious. I’d never be able to go back to Indiana where I couldn’t get this right outside my workplace.
“You have a good weekend?”
“Indeed.” I dragged a wedge of pita across the tzaziki sauce, sighing as I took another bite.
“You seem pleased. Your boyfriend didn’t dump you?”
I choked. “What?”
“I figured he’d balk at dating someone who’s so obviously using him.”
I breathed in and counted to five. “Gabe, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not using Shane.”
“So, he’s okay with you upgrading?”
“What the hell are you even talking about? I haven’t—”
“Friday. Aren’t you sitting in with Walking Disaster? Wasn’t that your goal all along?”
I shook my head, trying to ignore him. The rice had a spice in it that I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, I loved it.
“You’re going to sit here and pretend you aren’t looking forward to a private concert with your favorite band, Pumpkin?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you jealous, Gabe? Did they spurn you or something?”
He snorted. “You think I want to meet all these people? I have access to their contact info. I’ve been invited to their parties. But I keep it professional, Layla. That way I can write fair reviews.”
“You mean, so you can pan musicians without having to look them in the eye.”
Damn, my food was gone. I cracked open the can of soda that had been sweating on the ledge and took a long sip.
“Or so I can praise them without looking like a suck-up. Do you think Lars is going to want you writing these blogs if he finds out you’re running a fan site?”
“He knows, and he approves. Got any more questions?” I snatched up my napkin and dabbed the corners of my mouth, ready to end this insipid conversation. Why was he even bothering?
“He might care that you’re dating the musicians.” He shaded his eyes which only gave him the impression of piercing me with his gaze. He was so off base.
“One of the musicians, Gabe. And so was Jo when he hired her.”
That stopped him dead. “Right.” He stroked his chin. “Though she works in a different medium.”
I crumpled my trash and stood. My stomach churned. Street meat tasted great going down, but I hadn’t figured out how to stop myself from overeating. “Are you done questioning my life choices? I’d like to get back to work.”
“I’m hardly questioning your life choices. Well, not all of them.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Just the musician.”
