“Wow,” she breathed, breaking the kiss.
“Impressed?” he asked, sounding playful.
Her eyebrows rose high. “Cocky today, huh?”
“You should be the one who’s cocky,” Quentin told her firmly. “It’s your first interview, babe. Get a little confidence. Stand up straighter. You’ve fucking got this.”
“Ha,” Charlotte breathed. “I just want—“ She stopped, feeling emotion brim through her. “I want everyone to think I’m a proper journalist. I want to be taken seriously.”
“And you will. After this,” Quentin said.
They still had a few hours before the interview and had left the office early purposefully, wanting to prepare with a drink and a bit of chatter about her interview questions. They went immediately to the Brooklyn bar Keith and the others had agreed upon, with its exposed brick walls, its cement bar top, and its mustached bartender, who served them both cocktails with slices or lime and orange floating at the top. Charlotte sipped hers evenly, feeling an immediate rush in her brain. “Damn,” she breathed. “This is really going to knock me out.”
“It’s going to loosen you up,” Quentin corrected, leaning closer to her. “Let’s see those questions.”
Charlotte pressed her notebook into his hand, watching as he flipped through it evenly. His eyes coursed down the lined page and he nodded, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders readjusting. Above them, a grunge song from the ‘90s blared from the scratchy speakers. Charlotte approved.
“These are good, Char,” Quentin said, smacking the notebook back on the counter. “Really. I think your questions alone are going to set you apart from the other assholes they normally interview with. Including myself.” He smirked.
“You aren’t just saying that, right?” Charlotte asked, almost demanding an answer.
“No,” he said. “I promise. And you’re about as passionate about this as Morgan is before her piano recitals. I always have to talk her down from a bridge before each one. ‘Dad, I’m going to mess up and no one is going to respect me and I’m going to die.’ Every single fucking time.”
Charlotte grinned. “A girl after my own heart.”
“She hopes so, at least,” Quentin said. Her eyelashes flickered. “You know, I haven’t dated anyone seriously while I’ve had Morgan.”
“That’s kind of shocking,” Charlotte said. “She’s seven. You haven’t had anyone?”
“I’ve devoted my life to her. And the fact that this human who’s my entire existence respects you this much—I mean, that says everything. It tells me I’m not wasting my time.”
“Good,” Charlotte breathed.
They hadn’t spoken so heavily about their attraction, not since they’d begun. It had been nearly three weeks, although it felt like much longer, perhaps months. She sipped her cocktail, simmering with electricity, hopeful that the afternoon ahead unfolded evenly, without her saying the wrong thing or overstepping or making herself look a fool, especially in front of Quentin.
The band arrived about an hour later, while Quentin sipped on his third drink. Charlotte had ordered a water with lemon, wanting to retain some semblance of a sharp brain. She rose when she saw their rugged figures, watching as their eyes skirted from Quentin, back to her, confused, really, why she was taking the lead.
“Hi, boys,” Quentin said, rising and shaking their hands. “Keith. Martin. Cody. This is Charlotte. She’s one of our interns, and she’s taking the lead on this. I hope you’ll give her the respect she needs.”
“We aren’t that breed of rock star, Q,” Cody said, chortling and sitting beside Charlotte. “Not like you were.”
“We respect women,” Martin said, teasing him. “Charlotte. Hi. It’s nice to meet you. I heard you’re writing your first feature?”
“That’s true,” Charlotte said, her voice deep. If she didn’t believe in herself, who would? She slipped her recorder to the ON position and then grabbed her pen, beginning to take notes. She knew she looked harried and tried to focus on her breathing, feeling her tongue dry.
“And I appreciate you guys agreeing to do this. I know last time it was just Keith who came out to the interview, but I do think the article will breathe with more of your voices.”
“Cool. Yeah, people normally just want to talk to Keith,” Martin said, rolling his eyes playfully. “But whatever. Even when we were kids, girls only ever wanted to talk to Keith.”
“He’s our hidden factor. Our secret weapon,” the other band member, Cody, chimed in.
“Come on, guys,” Keith said, knocking his rugged forehead forward, clearly wishing they’d move from the topic. “I know you’re both obsessed with me, but this is a bit too much.”
“Ha,” Cody said.
“You’re actually on a pretty good theme, here,” Charlotte began, feeling vibrant, ready. “I wanted to discuss your initial trajectory and your experience with music as kids, growing up together. Your influences. And then, how your band links back to this nostalgia trip, upholding bands like Orpheus Arise and so many others.”
“Oh, hey, Orpheus Arise,” Cody said, nodding his head toward Quentin. “Good to see you. Although would kill to see you behind a guitar again.”