My Escapade

I sat in the chair of Mr. Cranford’s office, my head in my hands. I don’t know how, but my life had spiraled out of control in less than ten minutes. And it hadn’t even been of my own accord.

“I must be going through a mid-life crisis,” I muttered to myself.

“Ah, nonsense, Walker!” Mr. Cranford exclaimed, making me jump for the third time in twenty minutes. “You okay, Walker? That’s the third time you’ve jumped today. You look as scared as a cat in Chinatown.”

I didn’t even think he had noticed. “Uh, I’m fine, sir.”

He nodded. “That’s good, that’s good.” He smiled broadly. “So, what’s the story?”

I looked down at my hands. “Um, in all honesty, sir, I was hoping we could forget about this—”

“Forget about it?” he roared.

I jumped. Again.

“How can I forget about it? This is the best story we’ve had in months!” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “If you can follow through with this story, Walker,” he jabbed a finger at me, “you could have a permanent job on my team.”

My eyes widened. A job offer? “Are you serious?” I asked in shock, forgetting my manners—and, momentarily, my inhibitions. “For real?”

He nodded and raised his eyebrows. “So whaddya think about that?” He sat back in his chair.

“I—I—I think—” I stammered.

Oh, God, Walker, don’t give in.

It’s a job, idiot. Take the damn offer. Do the story.

I’m a good person. What kind of good person agrees to— “I’ll do it,” I blurted out.

So much for being a good person.

Mr. Cranford grinned. “Atta girl!” he cried enthusiastically. “Now, details.”

My brain froze. I had just accepted the idea of doing something so cruel. How was I supposed to fill in details I wasn’t even aware of yet? “Um, well,” I said slowly. “I was best friends with Jaxin Ramirez in high school. I had liked him forever… I don’t know if he ever knew. He was in a band, and I was that over-weight redhead with a mouth full of braces and thick glasses on my face. He started gaining more and more attention, and I knew sooner or later he’d want to get rid of me, shed me from his image.” I began recalling all the memories. “He started blowing me off, and as we got closer to graduation, we barely saw each other.” I heaved a sigh. “So as soon as we graduated, I rode some scholarships up to NYU. Tried to rid myself of the obsession I had with him.”

I directed my gaze at Mr. Cranford. “But nothing happened. Nothing changed. Except I was lonelier than I had ever been. Jaxin began popping up everywhere—The Escapade hit the big time.”

He nodded. “My grandkids listen to them. Teenagers.” He rolled his eyes.

I laughed. “So, that’s the history of it.”

“Now,” Mr. Cranford waved his hand around in a circular motion, “how come this famous band is playing at a wedding?”

I shrugged. “The Wallaces are loaded, sir. They probably paid them a hefty wage.”

Mr. Cranford nodded. “Do you know how to go about with this?”

I hesitated. “Well—not really. But I’m going to ask Ethan for help. Ethan was a player—before Emily managed to tie him down. He can help me lure Jaxin in—tell me how to drive him crazy, what not to do and what to do—and then I’ll dump him.”

“That’s right! Show them that famous people are susceptible to a broken heart, too!” he cried energetically.

I nodded. “That’s right, sir.”

He grinned. “I like it! Good job, Walker! I’m excited to see what happens!”

I smiled. “Thank you, sir.” I got out of the rather comfortable chair and walked to the door. As I opened it, he called, “Keep me posted!”

I turned around, nodded, and shut the door. “Shit,” I whispered.

I walked over to Ethan’s cubicle. “Hey man,” I greeted him, and sat on his desk.

He smiled at me, chewing on some carrots (on Em’s orders). He drank some water, and once he was done, asked, “How’d it go?”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a summary of what had happened. “So you volunteered me for your new front page story?” he asked mockingly. “Why, I’m honored.”

I glared at him.

“No, but in all seriousness, this’ll be fun. I get to pass on the torch—”

“Woah, woah,” I interrupted. “I am not your pre-teen son that you are trying to preach to on how to get laid, okay.”

“Close enough,” Ethan retorted.

I had no response for that, so, naturally, I did the mature thing—looked around to make sure the boss wasn’t approaching, and flipped him off.