Darius was at a loss. “It doesn’t have to be an extensive article. We can cut out your childhood aspirations of walking on the moon and just cover your immediate past.”
“I’ve given you the wrong impression, Mr. Knight.” Her words were brisk. Clearly, his attempt at levity hadn’t impressed her. “My decision is not up for debate. I will not grant you any interviews, nor will I allow you to take any photos of me.”
The line went dead. Darius stared at his blank caller identification screen. What had just happened? No one had ever turned down his request for an interview. They may have needed some persuading, like Ean, but in the end, he’d always gotten the story. Why was Peyton Harris so opposed to the press?
Darius jabbed the buttons for Quincy’s cell phone number. His friend answered on the third ring. “What’s up?”
Darius rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “What’s the deal with the new professor? She doesn’t want to be interviewed.”
“Maybe she’s read your work.”
Darius shook his head at the weak insult. “I’m serious. Why is she blocking me?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you call Foster to see if he could convinc
e her to talk to you?”
“Good idea. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Darius ended the call, then launched his online contacts file. He located the number for Foster Gooden, the university’s vice president for academic affairs. He didn’t like pulling rank; but if that’s what he had to do to get the article on the university’s new faculty member, he’d put his connections to use.
“Are there any ugly men in Trinity Falls?” Audra whispered the question to Jack as Doreen and the Trinity Falls University concert band director approached their table at Books & Bakery Tuesday afternoon.
Jack scowled. “I’m sitting right here, Audra.”
“I’m sorry.” The humor in her voice contradicted her apology. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Jack grunted. “That’s why I came to Books and Bakery with you today.”
“Jealous?”
Jack grunted again.
Vaughn Brooks didn’t fit her image of a university band director. He appeared to be in his late thirties. Standing a little over six feet tall, he was built like a football tight end. He was bald, with nutmeg skin and a neat goatee. A plain white T-shirt stretched across his chest. Knee-length blue jean shorts emphasized his long, powerful legs.
Doreen stopped at their table in the far corner of the bakery section. “Audra Lane, Vaughn Brooks.”
Vaughn accepted her hand. “I enjoy your work.” His voice was deep and smooth, his smile friendly.
“Thank you.” Audra shook Vaughn’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about your band.”
“I bet you have.” He winked at Doreen before releasing Audra’s hand. He took the seat across the table from the bakery manager, sitting next to Jack. Each spot had a mug of coffee, compliments of Doreen. “Thank you for agreeing to help us put together a surprise number for the celebration.”
Audra slipped a look toward Doreen. “Unfortunately, as I explained to Doreen, none of the performers I contacted are available that day. But Electra Day’s record label has given you permission to cover one of her most recent releases.”
“Electra Day?” Vaughn’s dark eyes widened. “Which song?”
Audra smiled at his excitement. “It’s a song I wrote for her, ‘Lifting Me Up.’ Do you know it?”
Vaughn leaned back on his chair. A slow smile lit his face. “Do I know it? I love it. It’s fast, upbeat.”
Doreen clapped her hands together. “It’s perfect for the celebration.”
Audra had thought the same. “Will your musicians be able to learn it in time for the event? It’s already July 29. They only have eleven days.”
Vaughn nodded. “We’re just doing four pieces. We learned the other three during the school year, and I told the kids to keep practicing over summer break.”
Audra frowned. “When will they come back from break?”