After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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"Would you like anything to drink?"
The girl glanced at me and refocused on the pages she had on her lap, which she shuffled too many times.
"Water's fine."
Nodding, my interviewer jumped to her feet and rushed to get a bottle from the small fridge built into the mahogany desk by the window. Her fingers trembled when she gave me the drink.
"Thank you," I said. "And there's no need to be nervous. I'm an ordinary guy."
"Right," the girl said under her breath, blushing.
"It's true. I'm an ordinary guy who came here to talk about his music. Why don't we start...I believe you didn't tell me your name."
"I'm sorry. It's Linda. So, Jim." She cleared her throat. "Your first album was a success. How do you feel knowing it's still on top of the charts?"
I unscrewed the bottle and took a long sip. "Linda. It's nice to meet you. And to answer your question, humbled. Humbled and grateful. It's heartwarming to know so many people love our songs and keep listening to them."
"You must have answered this question many times, but what inspired the lyrics of your songs?"
"Life in general, I guess. That, and my family and friends," I said, leaning back on the couch.
"No girlfriend of yours?"
"Not in our first album, no."
"Are you working on anything new?"
My gaze traveled across the hotel suite, pausing at the leather upholstery of the armchair where Linda was sitting. Then, I looked at her. The stiffness seemed to have finally disappeared from her posture, and she appeared more relaxed.
"We are. Our second album is in the making."
"When can your fans expect it?"
If I didn't know better, I would've thought the question came straight from Wyatt. Knowing how pushy he was, he could have orchestrated the whole interview.
"We will announce the release date as soon as we have one," I said, hoping Linda would drop the issue. It was hard to talk about something that existed only in our imagination. The clock was ticking, and I knew that we had to hurry better than anyone. I didn't need more pressure.
I gulped down half of my water, waiting for the next question.
"You were named The Hottest Bachelor of the Year by our magazine. I bet your female fans are wondering what kind of girl can win your heart," said Linda.
"I'm afraid the title isn't quite accurate."
Linda's eyes widened. "How so?"
"I'm in a relationship. The word bachelor doesn't describe me anymore."
