The rain was coming down in a slow, constant drizzle on the window outside my desk. I was trying to get my head to stop throbbing from the night before. I would never understand why Kevin would send me on assignments on a Tuesday night.

The Showbox was packed with punks of all ages, there to see Hounds of the Wild Hunt.

They were the life of the venue, even challenging me to a friendly drinking game after their set. Tequila and I were no longer going to be on speaking terms, I decided.

Kevin wanted the article on his desk by the end of the day, reviewing the local bands big show. How was I supposed to write about something that I barely remembered?

My coffee sat, unattended and unappreciated by my lips. It wasn't even room temperature any longer, but a cold, bitter reminder that I was wasting time. No amount of Advil would save me.

Mark convinced me to leave my desk and join him at Oddfellows. I was certain that lunch would include beers and another talk about us. I never wanted to talk about us. I never wanted to remember the day that my best friend abandoned me.

Lunch consisted mostly of me pushing hummus around my plate with some flatbread, being more consumed with my cider and my article than the conversation Mark was having with himself. Mark was going on about some art festival happening in Tacoma this weekend. He was more interested in impressing his new girlfriend, the girl he left me for. I wonder if he understood how everything that came out of his mouth was like a bullet to my brain.

I was the one that suggested that he and I remain friends, since I knew neither of us had wanted to leave The Stranger, it was always a huge part of our lives. The option to remain friends was better than to have one of us quit.

After barely touching lunch, I went to the park across the street to clear my head. Did I really want to stay at the same job as my ex? No. Did I want more than my studio apartment I currently share with another girl?

Yes. Yes, I did.

---

Kevin loved my spin on the local band scene. He said that my passion for music bled from my photos, and that my old-school film added the same appeal from the Ramones glory days; The golden punk hay days of the 70's and 80's. I was the only photojournalist that still used a film camera, though I was certainly the youngest.

I remember my dad showing me how to use my first film camera when I was eleven. How to gain focus and to take in every element around me, to see the beauty in every subject that I photographed, even when the situation was ugly.

When I got home, I slumped into my bed. It was only 6 o'clock, but I was ready to go to bed. Lauren wasn't home, which was a relief. She was always trying to get me to go out and meet guys. I don't think I am ready to have another guy use me for sex.

My guitar was collecting dust in the corner of my bed. I hadn't touched it in months. The strings were surely out of tune, a fitting metaphor for my life.

The guitar looked as if it were begging to be played. The chords of the saddest songs danced to my finger tips and told me to play, let the emotions just flow out and flood my apartment. Bright Eyes First Day Of My Life started playing on loop in my head. Mark and I used to listen to that song on rainy days while we were curled up on the couch writing our articles for Kevin. We would sip on coffees, that would eventually turn to beers. We did everything together since our Freshman year of college. Six years of my life were wasted on a man that never loved me.

I pick up my guitar and start to strum First Day Of My Life. The lyrics never meant much to me until I was single. The words that Conor penned were my life story set to a tragically beautiful melody.

I start to sing and I am interrupted by an incoming text message.




I show up to Shorty's forty minutes later. I can't let her know that I am eager to get out of the apartment. She's sitting in a corner booth with three guys. I finger the keys in my pocket, contemplating making a run for it.

"Stevie!" she squealed.

Damn, she saw me.

She runs up to grab me and drag me back to the booth, but not before giving me a quick once over.

"Is that really what you're wearing for a night out?" her face twisted with confusion and disapproval.

"At least I showered," I retorted.

"Kay, whatever."

She dragged me over to the table and introduced me to all the guys. I didn't hear a word that she said until she mentioned, "-he's a photographer too! The only difference is that he goes on tours with the bands, isn't that cool?"

His name, I found out, was Matt. He has toured all over North America and Europe with dozens of bands. He showed me his portfolio on his phone and we laughed and talked about the wonderful experiences he's had over the years. It was in the moments that we were laughing and acting like children that made me realize this could be just what I needed. I didn't want to be around Mark, I wanted to get out of Seattle for a few months. This was the way I had to do it.

I asked Matt everything I could about how he got into this line of work. How did he select which tours he wanted to go on, what kind of cameras did he use, everything my heart could possibly think of. He laughed at my excitement and gave me a business card.

"Call me anytime and I'll hook you up with a great tour, promise." He smiled at me.

My mind was racing in a thousand different directions. I had found a way to escape the every day dread of seeing Mark and hearing him talk about his girlfriend, a way to make my life exciting again. I was going to go on a tour!

---

Matt's business card sat on my desk for a week, catching sunlight and fading in certain spots. Kevin had already seen the card on my desk, and surely he was avoiding discussing it with me. After that drunken night with Lauren and wanting to live Matt's life, I came back down from the clouds. My life was here. My friends were here and my job was here. The only thing that wasn't here was my happiness. I'm sure that my happiness would be found in a stadium full of screaming fans...

There was a ding on my computer that brought me back to reality. I had a meeting notification from Kevin. He wanted to meet with me in 30 minutes.

Shit.

He is going to fire me.

As 3:00 PM rolls around, I mosey on over to the conference room to speak with Kevin. I had been rehearsing what i was going to say to him, mapping out every counter point to his reasons to let me go. I was not going down without a fight.

I walked into the conference room at 2:56 PM. I couldn't be late when I was about to fight for my job. I had to show Kevin that he wanted to keep me around. That I was a wonderful addition to the newspaper and he needed me. Courage from Hounds of the Wild Hunt was playing on loops in my head.

Kevin walked in at 3:02. He was late.

"Stevie, thank you for meeting with me at such a short notice." He was friendly in his greeting.

"Of course, Kevin."

"I'm sure you're wondering what this is about."

"Yes, I am rather curious as to why you scheduled a meeting." I was very tense and rigid with my response. My legs crossed at the ankles and my hands carefully placed on my lap.

Kevin frowned at me, "Stevie, stop."

"Stop what?"

"You're tense. I know you very well, you've worked for me for nearly two years."

"I know. What is this about, Kevin? Are you firing me? I know that -"

"Firing you? No!" He laughed.

"Then what is this about?"

"I think you know that I have seen the business card you so carefully placed on your desk."

"Kevin, listen, I -"

He put his hand up to stop me. "I know the card was just a thought. I saw you thinking about it over lunch on Friday. No one takes a business card for company while they eat a sandwich in the park."

"You're right Kevin, I was thinking about it, but my life is here. My job is here. It doesn't seem feasible to just up and leave everything behind me."

He sighed at me. "Stevie, I am putting you on a three month leave."

"Kev-" I looked at him in distress.

"I got you a gig as a tour photographer this summer."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, you're welcome. You leave in a week. The first date is in Toronto, August first."

I looked at him in shock for a minute. "Are you being serious?"

"Yes, I am serious. You will be paid for the tour. It's a really big band."

My eyes widened. "Is is Chevelle? Foster the People? Linkin Park?"

"One Direction."

"Who?" I cocked my head slightly to the right.

"They are a British boy band, they were on the X-Factor in England. My niece loves them."

"Why this band exactly?" I was trying to figure out why my boss was about to send me on a tour with a boy band that I hadn't even heard of.

"Their last photographer was fired, that is all the information I was given."

"And I leave in a week?"

"Yes."

"Will I still have my job when I am done with the tour?"

"You better come back, I need you here."

"What is the pay?"

"They will discuss numbers with you. Your hotel stay is included and you will have full access to the band, excluding their days off."

"Wow."

"I know you were looking to get away from Mark, to have a change of pace."

"Mark? Why would you think I need to get away from him?" I shifted in my seat.

"I know that things have been strained since the two of you split. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I know this will get you out of your funk."

"Kevin, I appreciate that you did this for me. How can I ever repay you?"

"Just come back and be your kick-ass self again."

---

July was coming to an end and I had two hours left until my flight to Toronto. I had eight pieces of luggage to live out of for the next two months. I was given a week off to pack and get my affairs in order, then I would have two weeks after the tour to get settled back in.

I downloaded all of their albums to my Spotify account, but I still hadn't listened to them. Boy bands were my early tween phase. Memories of my parents being dragged to see N'Sync and the Backstreet Boys flooded my mind. My poor parents.

I grew out of boy bands when I was 12, and I knew that these next two months were going to be torture. Screaming teens are going to make my ears bleed. I needed a drink.

There was a bar right by the gate that I was at. I ordered a whiskey sour and ate some of the bar pretzels. My mind kept racing. I am going to be on the road for the next two months. I get to see cities I have never been to before. There was still a burning question in the back of my mind. Why was their last photographer fired? Was I going to end up being fired? They were a boy band, I bet they have massive diva attitudes.

The boarding announcement came on over the PA system. I got up, leaving my empty glass on the bar, and leaving the bar tender a $20 tip. I put my backpack on my shoulders and I headed to the queue to board. The first class passengers were boarding and my business class group would be next. The next four and a half hours were going to be so refreshing. I hadn't slept well for the past week. Mark was upset that I was going to be on a tour, he said that the road changes people. He called me a sellout for following a boy band and that my resume was nothing but fuel for the fire that would end my career. He seems to have forgotten that he changed without leaving the town we shared.

Lauren was sad that I was leaving her, but she was happy that I was going to get away for a bit. She asked that I sent her post cards from every city and she wanted parcels of local treats from every single place that I landed in.

I wanted nothing but to sleep on the plane and I made sure that there were several whiskey sours consumed prior to me boarding my flight. I got to my seat, found my earbuds in my backpack and plugged them into my phone. The Mountain Goats streamed into my ears and I felt at ease finally, and I drifted off to sleep.

Notes

This is the first chapter in my story. I have at least two others penned in my notebook, but I will leave this here for the world to read. I hope that you will join me on this journey, as I have put a lot of thought and time into this story. It's only going to get better from here, I promise.