Page 7 of Hard Rock Deceit

"Touring with a rock band sounds pretty glamoroustome."

"Tell me that again in a fewweeks."

That was anything but reassuring. Had I made a terriblemistake?

"As the band's official photographer, you'll be always on the clock and we're on the road constantly as we tour," he continued. "Is that okaywithyou?"

"Isn't it a little too latetoask?"

"It's never too late for you to say no. But I have a feeling you'llsayyes."

He had an assertive way of speaking. Not arrogant exactly. More like self-assured, as if he was used to people giving him what he wanted without needingtoask.

I had a feeling I'd be saying yes to a lot of things when it came tothisman.

"I'm okay with traveling. I've already graduated from college. I'm trying to make a go of it as a photographer. Aside from selling a few pieces here and there, I haven't had much work in the industry. If I want to make a living as an artist, this is an goodfirststep."

"Being hired as a paid photographer lends you credibility," he agreed. "Much more credible then unpaid internships that offer experience instead of money. And much more lucrative than selling to stock photo websites forpennies."

August seemed to really get it. It was hard for artists to make ends meet without getting day jobs. Although he was rich and famous now, he must have had his ownhardships.

"Whenever I imagined working as a photographer, I dreamed up scenarios of being flown to foreign countries to take photos for prestigious magazines,"Isaid.

"It's not National Geographic," he replied, "but I hope this will be just as…interesting."

That pause, the way his eyes glinted when he said the wordinteresting, made me wonder what I was gettingmyselfinto.

"Was it difficult for you, at first?" I asked. "Having to travel all the time,Imean."

August tilted his head, as if surprised I'dasked.

"Yes and no. It's always exciting at first. New cities, new experiences. But you start to miss your own bed after awhile."

I was going to be away from home for a few months. Everything had happened so fast. Less than twenty four hours ago I'd been firmly set on my post-graduation life, looking into part-time jobs and trying to arrangephotographygigs.

I'd never been away from home for longer than a week or two on vacation. Now I was going to be traveling across the country for months atatime.

A small pang of pre-homesicknesshitme.

"It'll be okay," August said. "You'll be so busy with work, you won't have time to feelhomesick."

"You don't need to worryaboutme."

He smiled faintly. "It's my job toworry."

August placed a reassuring hand on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. That small gesture of comfort warmed my heart, just as the touch of his skin made my bellytighten.

"This place can get a little crazy on day one of the tour," he told me. "I'll show you where you'll beworking."

He led me to one of the buses. Stepping inside, my breath was taken away. The whole thing looked like a condo inside. Living room with leather sofas, a kitchen with a sink and fridge, and a real office with a desk and swivel chair at the back. It looked way too posh to be for the roadiesorcrew.

"This is the band's tour bus, isn't it?" My nerves began to act up again. "I'm on the same bus astheband?"

"You are. Your job will be to take candid photos of the entire tour, not just of theconcerts."

August walked me through the living room and nodded totheback.

"That's the sleeping area," August said. "We've got a handful of bunkbeds and a small private bedroom in the back. It gets a little cramped with all five of us, but wemakedo."