I Know.

"Cy," Casey calls me out of my deep concentration. I turn in my chair to look at him. "They look fine. You can stop tweaking the photos."

"I just want them to look perfect."

Case, of course, shakes his head at me and moves to leave. "You do realize that it is almost eleven, right?"

I look at the clock, hoping he is wrong, but he's not. It's ten-fifty, and I groan. "Damn it."

"Look, hurry and finish up, and I'll walk you to your car."

"Thanks, Case, really."

-

Another day, and I'm needed once again. I love my job. I really do, but sometimes it gets a little out of hand. I'm currently stressing and sitting in front of a computer, trying so hard to finish all my final touches on the best photographs, so I can turn them in to the magazine. As soon as that is done, I have to buy tickets to fly out to Las Vegas for another concert. I have a longer deadline for these photos, though, so I won't be as stressed out.

"Lucas," I finish attaching the photos in an email, before turning around in my seat to face the slender woman in the doorway. "You told me to tell you when it is eleven."

"It is eleven, already?"

She nods, smiling, "It is. You should probably go and get some lunch."

"Thank you again, Nancy."

She silently leaves, and I send the email. I sigh, relief washing over me. My deadline for these photos would have been in twenty minutes, so I'm cutting it a bit short, but at least they're in. I yawn, before standing up. I might as well take Nancy's advice. She is an older receptionist, maybe in her late thirties, but she always has good advice.

I grab my things, and I take one last look around through my email. It doesn't look like I have anything else to do today, so I decide to take the rest of the day off. I let Nancy know, and I leave. I drive home, where I soon find myself digging through the cabinets for something to eat. I settle on cereal, so I don't have many dishes.

As I'm eating, I look at the post-it note I placed on the coffee table a few days ago. It is a light green, and in black sharpie is written the ten digits I had found on my arm. Under the numbers was the name William Abbot.

I place my bowl down, and I pull my phone out.

"Hello?"

I sigh, debating on hanging up. "Is this William Abbot?"

"Yeah," I hear people in the background asking him who he's talking to. "Who is this?"

"Lucas Dodger. I'm the photographer from the concert a few days ago."

I start to eat my cereal again.

He answers too quickly. "Oh!" Then, he is talking to his friends, but I still hear him. "It's the photographer from the other night."

"The cute one?"

I nearly choke. He's asking me, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I was just calling to see where your band is going to be the next few weeks. I don't have a solid deadline for photography until about three weeks from now. I don't remember. It's in my email. I'll submit more photos, but I have more time off this week, and maybe a few days next week."

"Um, well, I think we'll be in Henderson."

"Nevada?"

"Yeah," He shushes some guy in the background, who is yelling for his attention. "Why?"

I bite my lip. "I'll be in Las Vegas."

"Are you fucking serious? When are you going to be there? We need to meet up."

"I'm going to fly in either tomorrow night or Monday morning. I need to set a few things up and figure my way around. There are a few concerts I need to catch there within the first and second week, and then edit the photographs before I can submit them."

"Are you going alone?"

I think this is his way of asking if I'm dating anyone, or maybe he's just curious if I have someone from work joining me. "I don't know, yet. I might ask a friend of mine to join me. He loves Nevada."

"I haven't ever been to Nevada."

"I haven't either. That is why I'm leaving a little earlier than I need to. I don't want to get lost." I laugh, "But Casey goes every summer to Vegas, so it would only make sense if I brought him along."

I heard some shuffling on the other side of the phone line, before hearing another voice. "Hey, I'm Pat. How are you?"

"I'm okay, and yourself?" I'm done my cereal. Maybe I should poor myself another bowl.

He seems really excited about something. "I'm great."

Turns out, Pat wants to meet me in person. I wouldn't blame him. Some strange photographer calling up the singer of the band. He probably feels either left out or convinced that I'm a pornographer.

I finish up talking to Pat and William, and I hang up. I should definitely make time to talk to these guys another time. Right now, I have to call up Casey and book a flight to Nevada.