So I Married A Rockstar - Season 2

Ch. 1: The Blizzard

The snow was coming down hard.

I winced as my car eased up the hill, the engine grumbling under the strain, the windshield wipers frantically batting away snow. Poor thing wasn't built for this.

My phone rang, and I tapped answer without taking my eyes off the road – or rather, the packed dirt path.

"Hi, Camden," I said.

"Are you there yet?" My older sister's voice sounded tinny and distant over answerphone, but considering the dense surrounding woodland, I was impressed I could hear her at all.

"Not yet."

"Are you driving carefully?"

"Yes, that's why I'm not there yet."

Camden made an unhappy noise. "I wish you'd postponed this until the weather improves."

"You know I can't. If I don't get that internship, it's another two years before I can reapply," I said.

"But the opening doesn't close until the end of December. You'd have weeks to rearrange this interview," Camden said.

"It took Jude months to get Finn to agree to it in the first place. I can't take the risk."

Not to mention that if I didn't get the internship, Izzy fucking Rollins probably would.

Camden sighed. "I wish he'd at least agreed to meet somewhere neutral, instead of making you drive fifty miles into the middle of nowhere."

"He's a rockstar. They're used to people coming when they call."

"Mine's not like that," Camden muttered.

"He absolutely is, but he also comes when you call."

My sister laughed wickedly. "In more ways than one."

"Oh God, I so don't need to hear about your sex life."

Less than a year had passed since she'd drunkenly married one of the world's most famous rockstars and turned her life upside down – and to an extent, mine too.

"Are you nervous?" Camden asked.

"A little."

"Because of his reputation? Or because you like him?" Mischief crept into Camden's voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied with dignity.

Camden, knowing me better than that, snorted.

"Okay, fine, I am excited to meet him. I love his music, and he's hotter than hell, but this is about my career," I said.

For years I'd been working towards a career in music journalism, and now that one of the UK's biggest music magazines Clash had opened up its biennial internship, I had a shot of getting my foot in the door. Unless my rival writer beat me to it. Again.

Which was why I was forcing my car to the top of a hill on the outskirts of the South Downs National Park, to interview notoriously reclusive rockstar, Finn Donovan, thanks to some strings pulled by my rockstar brother-in-law, Jude Scott – and wow, was that still weird to think.

Renowned for his hostility towards journalists, this was only the third interview Finn had agreed to in the last few years ago, and the last one hadn't even taken place because he'd turned up blind drunk to the venue and had fallen asleep in his chair.

"You know Jude's always willing to get in touch with Clash himself, and put in a good word for you," Camden reassured me.

"You know I applied under a pseudonym for a reason."