Vocal Adrenaline

Emerson Handler was hardly your cliché teenage girl; she'd rather stay home and listen to music and splatter paint her entire wardrobe than bother about boys and nails and clothes. And if there was one thing Emerson could not stand, it was Reliant21. But when the band's lead singer ends up knocking on her door one night, she might just find herself tangled in the last web she wanted to be in.


2. I Get My Dream Job

< < t w o > >

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up when Charlotte was done talking. She shook her head, smiling brightly as if she had no idea why it was so hard for me to grasp the concept. Next to her, Kyle was grinning like he knew something I didn't, while Oliver, Jack, and Devon looked totally excited at the prospect of have a, quote, "hot" new personal shopper and stylist.

"The boys are touring the country at the end of the month, at which point you should be out for summer and completely free to join them. Please inform me if I'm incorrect?" Charlotte asked kindly. I more than anything wanted to say yes, I mean, this was an amazing paying job and I had only planned on a totally boring summer alone, maybe hanging out with my friends a bit before our senior year started, but other than that...

"I would really, really love to just up and accept this offer, Charlotte, believe me. But I don't know..." I trailed off, praying that Emma and her friends would stay upstairs for the next little while. The three had slept at our house last night, and Kyle was in an out before my parents got home, but now, by some strange, occurrence, he and his manager and the rest of his little teeny-bopper pop band were back at my house just to pick up is fancy little car. And somehow, in the midst of this all, his manager had offered me a job. A very, very well paying job.

"Well, how about you come backstage at the boys' show on Thursday, get your bearing on the whole thing, and then consider? You've got my card, so just give us a ring! Until then, here's your backstage pass, and we'll see you then! Be there at four." Charlotte filled in, pulling a backstage pass from her bag and pushing it into my hands. I stared down at it like she'd just give me a dead cat and told me it was my birthday present. What was I meant to do with this?

"Four? Doesn't your concert start at seven?" I asked, looking between Charlotte and the boys while I flipped the backstage pass over in my hands, the plastic feeling cold and unusual.

"Yes, but we'd really like to see you apply yourself, meet the other stagehands and even pick out the boys' clothes for the show. It would be the best way for you to decide for yourself, don't you agree?" Charlotte asked again, not stopping long enough for me to continue before starting up again. "And while you're at it you can try your hand at doing their hair and stage makeup, our makeup artist can watch over you to make sure you're competent."

"This is really a lot to think about," I cut her off before she could continue. Charlotte snapped her mouth shut quickly, staring at me intently while I thought through what I was going to say next. "I'd really have to talk to my family about it. Believe me, I understand that this is a very great offer, and I thank you for that, but I honestly don't think I'll be able to swing it." I admitted, even though I knew it was a lie and I really would probably be able to do this. But after spending just two hours with Kyle, I wasn't sure how much of him I could handle, much less amplified four times.

"But you'll be there on Thursday?" Charlotte chirped. Jesus, Christ she was persistent.

"Yes, I'll be there on Thursday." I snapped, pursing my lips after. Maybe that wasn't how I should have answered, but I'd honestly do anything right now to stop Charlotte from talking.

"Wonderful! We'll see you at three on Thursday!" Charlotte clapped, dropping her white iPhone into the giant designer tote hanging over her arm.

"Three?" I called, my eyebrows knitting together. But Charlotte and the boys were already out the door and heading down the walk. "I thought you said four!"

"We want to see you apply yourself, Emerson! Be there at three thirty or your chances are zero for this job!"

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