Insider (Exodus End #1) (2 page)

Toni gave her sister another tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

Birdie didn’t look quite convinced, but she ambled over to Mom and took her hand. “I’ll show you how to feed chickens, Mommy. So next time you can feed them and I can go with Toni.”

Mom patted her youngest daughter’s back and smiled, but Toni knew the woman wouldn’t go within ten yards of the coop. It had been her father’s idea to buy the little farm an hour east of Seattle, and after he’d passed away, Mom had wanted to sell it and move closer to the office. But Toni had convinced her to keep their idyllic property. For Birdie’s sake and for hers. Anything that allowed Toni to keep the memory of her father alive was worth the effort to maintain and the loss of any chance at a social life.

“Call if you need anything,” Mom said.

“I will. Love you both.”

“Love you too, Toni!” Birdie yelled in what most would consider an outside voice. But Birdie only had two volumes—loud and whisper.

Toni waited a few moments before collecting her gear and heading to Susan’s office. Toni didn’t want Birdie to see her again and be forced to go through their goodbyes twice. And maybe if she dawdled enough, Julian would come collect her for their drive to the arena, helping her keep her interaction with her overbearing editor as short as possible.

The ten-yard journey down the hall was just enough to get Toni’s heart thudding and her palms sweaty. How could her mom possibly think Toni was capable of being the boss of this place? She’d never been like her ambitious mother. Toni took after her father—laid back, creative, and painfully shy. She hoped her shyness didn’t hinder her interactions with the members of Exodus End. What would she do if she froze up and couldn’t say a word to any of them? That would make conducting interviews rather challenging.

Toni took a deep breath and tapped her knuckles quietly on Susan’s thick wooden door. Maybe Susan wouldn’t hear her knock over the heavy metal music she always blared into her ears via earbuds.

“Come in,” Susan called.

Dammit.

Toni eased the door open and peered anxiously inside. “My mom said you wanted to see me before I left.”

“I do,” Susan said.

Toni pushed her glasses up her nose with the back of her hand.

“Well, are you going to come in or are you going to stand there staring through me?” Susan snapped.

Toni entered the room, deposited her cases, and closed the door.

“Sit.” Susan waved to a chair across from her desk.

“I don’t think I have time. Julian—”

“Sit!”

Toni perched on the edge of a blue club chair and clenched her fingers into her long skirt. She wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that ratcheted her anxiety into the stratosphere. Toni didn’t handle disapproval well. She always strived to make everyone happy, and she couldn’t figure out how to make Susan happy with her—besides giving up her assignment with Exodus End and allowing Susan to take her place. But Toni refused to back down in this case. She wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted; she just didn’t want much. But she did want to make this interactive biography a success, even if it meant telling Susan to go fuck herself. Toni rubbed her lips together. Okay, no, she doubted she’d ever be able to say something so crass to anyone’s face, but she’d think it, by God.

Susan slid a legal pad across her desk. “Here are the interview questions I came up with.”

Toni read upside down.
Which musician living or dead would you most want to spend a day with?
She blinked hard so she wouldn’t roll her eyes. She was pretty sure fans didn’t care which musician the members of Exodus End would want to hang out with. She sure didn’t. Toni picked up the legal pad, however, and stuffed it into her messenger bag.

“I still don’t think you’ll be able to handle this job,” Susan said.

“I disagr—”

“You’ll probably spontaneously combust at the sight of them.”

Well, they were incredibly attractive men. All four of them, but—

“And the way you dress?” Susan shook her head. “You won’t fit in with a group of rock stars. They’re not going to open up to someone like you.”

Pressure began to build behind Toni’s eyes. “Someone like—?”

“You have absolutely no experience as a reporter. I’ve interviewed hundreds of musicians over the years. How many have you interviewed?” Susan’s voice was beginning to rise, and that scary vein over her left eye bulged.

“Well—”

“Zero! That’s how many. You know you wouldn’t have gotten this assignment if your
mother
didn’t own the company, right? I mean you hardly ever come in to the office . . .”

That was because Toni did most of her work from home so she could take care of Birdie.

“. . . and you have no field experience. So what if you can code and do graphic design and write? You can’t talk. Journalists have to know how to talk.”

She might have talked if Susan had shut her mouth for more than half a second.

“If you can’t talk, you can’t ask questions. So what good are you?”

Susan actually paused long enough for a response. What good was she? Toni didn’t know. She wouldn’t know until she tried. But every point Susan made was valid. Toni didn’t have any experience interviewing musicians—or anyone famous, for that matter. She wouldn’t fit in with the crew on tour with the band or the fans and definitely not four famous rock stars. Toni’s chest tightened, and she fought the flood of tears that suddenly burned her eyes. What she needed right now was a pep talk, not to be berated and belittled by a jealous cow.

“Are you seriously going to cry right now?” Susan asked, tilting her head forward so that her silky burgundy hair swung over one sharp blue eye. The silver hoop that pierced the corner of one of Susan’s nostrils caught the light and Toni’s attention. Susan would fit in better with a rock band. Toni couldn’t deny it.

“No.” Not at that very minute. Toni could at least hold it together until she found a bathroom before she unleashed a torrent of tears.

“I don’t know why I’m so worried that you’ll fuck this up.” Susan laughed hollowly. “You’ll take one look at the tour bus and flee in terror.”

Toni lifted her chin, which betrayed her by quivering most annoyingly. “I won’t.”

“We’ll see. You mother already told me that if you fail, I can take back the job I was
hired
to do. I guess I’d better start packing. You’ll be home by midnight.”

“You only know how to do interviews. You don’t know how to do anything else this job requires,” Toni said.

“I’ll send all the information to you and you can make it pretty and flow together into a book. That’s what you’re good at.”

It was what she was good at. Design. In the past, Toni had been forced to use the information, photographs, illustrations, videos and audio clips that someone else had decided were important for making an amazing interactive book. For this project, she was in charge of collecting everything necessary to capture the men behind the rock stars. And she was determined to wow everyone with this biography. Even Susan. And maybe her mom would realize that Toni was most valuable as a creative asset to Nichols Publishing, not as the head of it. Toni had to get this book right the first time. Mom wasn’t big on second chances.

“Call me on Monday to check in,” Susan said dismissively. “Unless you’re already back in town. Then let me know so I can meet up with the band at their next tour stop.”

“I’m not going to fail,” Toni said. She lifted her chin another notch. “I can do this.”

Susan rolled her eyes and turned toward her computer, dismissing Toni without a word.

Toni scooped herself out of the chair, uncomfortably aware of her trembling knees. If Susan intimidated her this easily, how would Toni ever hold her own with a bunch of cocky rock stars?

She lifted her camera case and slung the strap of her bag over one shoulder. “I’m not going to fail,” she said resolutely and rushed out of the office, slamming the door on the corner of her messenger bag, completely negating the finality of her angry exit.

She fled to the bathroom down the hall. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks as she shut herself into the largest of the three stalls. She dropped her case on the floor, then yanked toilet paper from the roll and dabbed at her eyes beneath her glasses. Why was Susan so mean to her? Toni was nice to everyone, whether they deserved her kindness or not. She didn’t understand how anyone could say such cruel things to someone else. It was almost as if Susan wanted to rattle her. Wanted her to fail. No one could really be that much of a selfish jerk, could they?

Toni dropped the tear-soggy toilet paper into the bowl and yanked another length off the roll.

“Are you in here, Toni?” a familiar,
masculine
voice called into the bathroom.

“You can’t come in here, Julian,” Toni called to him. She blew her nose before reaching for more toilet paper.

“Did Susan make you cry again?”

“N-no.”

She heard the door close and took a deep, shaky breath, glad Julian had left. She wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Her tears had stopped, but her nose was still running like a leaky faucet. He’d recognize that she was lying as soon as he saw her.

“Toni, she’s a horrible jealous bitch,” Julian said through the crack in the stall door. “Don’t let her hurt your feelings.”

“Julian! This is a women’s restroom.”

“Trust me, honey, there isn’t a thing in here that interests me,” he said.

She could picture the disgusted sneer on his pretty boy face.

“Except making you smile. Now come on out of there.”

“In a minute.” She blew her nose again and rubbed her face with the palm of her hand.

“What did she say to you this time?” Julian asked.

“That I’m g-going to f-fail.” Toni dashed away a stray tear. God, why did she have to be so soft-hearted? It was a freaking nuisance.

“You aren’t going to fail,” Julian said. “You’re going to kick ass. I guarantee it.”

“What if the band members won’t talk to me?”

Julian released a soft laugh. “They’ll talk. They won’t be able to help themselves. Someone has to fill in your long bouts of absolute silence.”

She didn’t talk much. Especially to strangers. Her stomach lurched. Everyone around her on this tour would be strangers.
Everyone.

“I’m terrified,” Toni admitted, mostly to herself. But Julian heard her.

“Of course you are. Who wouldn’t be? But you’re going to get past your fear and you’re going to get out there and make a fantastic, exciting life for yourself, because the one your mother made for you just doesn’t suit you.”

At least someone besides her recognized that.

Toni grinned, feeling loads better, and opened the stall door.

“There’s that smile,” Julian said, hugging her. “Now hurry the hell up. You have a tour bus to catch and four rock stars to befuddle with your sugary sweetness.”

In the company car, Toni snatched the cigarette out of Julian’s well-manicured hand and took a deep drag. Lungs burning and eyes watering, she choked before producing a hacking fit that would put a tuberculosis patient to shame. There was a reason she didn’t smoke. Well, several actually. But an aversion to choking to death was at the top of her list.

Julian took his eyes off the freeway long enough to give her his what-the-fuck-is-your-problem look before retrieving his cigarette and settling it between his thin lips. “You don’t need nicotine, honey,” he said around the filter. “What you need is Valium. Or Xanax. Actually, both would do you some good.”

“Are you suggesting I need to be drugged?” she asked, giving her mother’s personal assistant the evil eye.

Julian was the closest thing she had to a non-blood-related friend. Occasionally he made her leave the house and go out on the town. Unfortunately, they always ended up in gay bars, which was entertaining enough but didn’t do much for her romantic prospects. But they weren’t crawling through stadium-event traffic to embark on a social adventure. Toni was about to get on the tour bus of the most well-known metal band in the world—hell, even
she
had heard of Exodus End and she mostly listened to classic rock. She’d gone from uncertain to nervous wreck the moment she’d fastened her seat belt. Just thinking about touring with the band made her stomach do summersaults, backflips, and cartwheels. She had an Olympic-level gymnastics meet going inside her.

“Did you remember to shave your legs?” Julian asked. He took a nonchalant drag off his cigarette before holding it between two fingers against the steering wheel. They were inching along the interstate at a snail’s pace. She probably could have gotten there faster if she’d walked.

Toni scowled, thinking that was the oddest thing Julian had ever asked her and the man had no filter. “Why does it matter? Did you cut off all my skirts so they barely cover my ass?” Turning her conservative clothing into ho-garb was something he would do.

Julian laughed. “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?”

As they neared the Mercer Street exit, Julian switched on his blinker to merge. Space Needle, Science Center, Key Arena Toni read on the directional signs. She was one step closer to her destination. She pursed her lips together to keep her dinner down.

“So did you shave them or not?” he asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, they’re silky smooth. Why?”

“So you
are
expecting to get laid tonight,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I thought your frumpy sweater was a little tighter than usual. Showing off the goods for a change?”

Toni’s mouth dropped open in indignation, and she slapped Julian on the head. He had so much product in his black hair that she was sure he didn’t feel the blow. “I am not showing off the goods.” She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “And I have absolutely no expectations in the getting laid department. I just don’t like my legs all itchy and hairy in my pajamas.”

“You didn’t seriously pack pajamas to wear while on tour with a rock band, did you?”

“What else am I supposed to sleep in?”