Come On And Love Me

Part 8

You woke up with a groan at the feeling of the sun beating down on your face from your bedroom window. Sitting up in bed, you stretched, feeling the familiar soreness kick in from your one-nighter with Paul Stanley. You shook your head at the feeling of the smile pulling at your lips. The chances of the singer finding that note in his case and actually were slim to none, but for some reason, you had a bit of hope he would keep his word. The sound of your cell phone ringing next to you pulled you from your thoughts as you jumped, seeing the nine missed calls and six texts.

"Holy shit! It's 10 am! I was supposed to be at the office three hours ago, motherfucker!" You yelled and jumped out of bed.

You threw the phone down on the bed, ignoring the rest of the messages displayed across the screen. Moving straight to your closet to find somewhat presentable work attire that would cover up the hickies surrounding your neck and chest. A game of twenty questions was something you were definitely not in the mood for, as you grabbed your boots from the previous night, sliding them onto your feet. You screamed at the sight of your best friend sitting on the couch watching tv, glancing over at you casually with a slight grin dancing across his face.

"Good morning," Robbie said

"Good morning? I'm three hours late for work!" You replied as you snatched your keys off the holder.

"Y/N, you don't work today. You never work the day after a trip. Anyway, there's someone that keeps calling here for you by the name of Doc. Does that ring a bell at all?" Robbie asked, not looking away from the tv.

"Jackass, I sent you a text last night that said to make sure I was awake for a meeting at 7! No, I don't know anyone named Doc, just leave his number on my whiteboard, and I'll call him later," You replied, heading out the door.

"That's weird, because the guy said something about an interview," he replied.

You shook your head and slammed the door shut, running down the stairs to your car. Speeding off out of the small parking lot and down the road, silently praying you would not get fired for this screw-up. You came up to a stoplight and flipped on the radio, grabbing your bag to pull your phone out. You'd hoped to call your boss and explain that your flight came in late, but the device wasn't anywhere in the small bag.

"Fuck, how did I forget that!" You moaned, hitting your hand on the steering wheel.

The sound of a horn behind you caused you to snap your head back up toward the traffic light, seeing that it had now turned green. Punching the gas, you tried to figure the best way to explain to your boss why you were super late. However, the little scene on camera with Paul was a way more significant issue that you knew there was no way of getting around it. Pulling into the parking lot within ten minutes, you rolled your eyes at the song ending on the radio, KISS 'Shout It Out Loud.' You were going to shut the car off when the DJ came across mentioning the band had a tour date coming up in three weeks. Shaking your head, you pulled the key out of the ignition, slamming the door shut.

"I will definitely not be going to that one. Their lead singer is nothing but trouble that I don't need." You mumbled, walking into the building.

You were heading down the hall toward your office that you shared with your cameraman, Joey. Rolling your eyes, knowing you were going to get more flack from that man than your boss would give you over being so late. As on cue, both of them came strolling out of the room, Joey with a smug grin dancing across his face and your manager looking both panicked and relieved to see you.

"Sheila, I'm so sorry! I had to take a later flight in and slept through my alarms. What did I miss?" You sputtered out.

"Y/N, take a breath! I'm happy to see that you are okay. We were just talking about the KISS interview and how interesting you made it for your first time on your own." She smiled at you.