Behind The Beat

I - The Interview

Rozalie adjusted her blazer, fidgeting nervously with the cuff as she waited in the dimly lit backstage area of the venue. The air was thick with the faint scent of old leather and a lingering hint of smoke, giving the space an edgy, lived—in quality. Posters from past concerts lined the walls, faded and torn at the edges, their vibrant colors dimmed by years of wear. It wasn't her first time backstage, but this place felt different, like it held secrets in every corner. The low hum of distant music equipment being tested only added to her tension.

At twenty—two, Rozalie had made a name for herself as a sharp, curious interviewer in the indie music scene. Known for her thoughtful questions and her ability to draw out her subjects' vulnerabilities, she'd gained a quiet reputation. But tonight was different. She was scheduled to interview Lost Reverie, one of the biggest bands of the last decade, and the weight of it all had her stomach in knots. Despite going over her questions at least a hundred times, her nerves felt raw, each second making her anticipation grow.

Rose took a deep breath, feeling the cool prickle of the air—conditioned room against her skin. She reminded herself why she was here, how much she had wanted this opportunity, and all the preparation she had put in. But no amount of rehearsing could quiet the thrill of who she was about to meet. Valentine. The band's lead singer, the enigmatic rock star she'd followed since her teens.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts, and she quickly checked the screen. Some shop add. She slipped it back into her pocket, exhaling slowly. There were voices in the hallway—band members, roadies, and crew, all bustling with purpose. Through the slightly open door, she could see glimpses of stage techs adjusting lights and arranging equipment, their low chatter filling the air. The casual ease with which they moved reminded her that for them, this was just another gig. For her, though, it felt like the beginning of something huge.

She caught a flash of brown hair in the corner of her vision, and her heart jumped. Valentine was standing a few feet down the hall, talking to someone she recognized as the band's drummer. Even from this distance, Val's presence was magnetic— confident, with a posture that radiated authority and a bit of danger. Rozalie looked away quickly, willing herself not to stare, but she couldn't resist another quick glance.

There she was: Valentine. The voice that had carried arenas, the frontwoman whose lyrics had gotten Rozalie through her most turbulent years. In person, she was somehow even more striking, her loose brown hair cascading over her shoulders, her dark eyes sharp and focused. She was dressed casually, yet every detail about her—from the faded leather jacket to the subtle smirk she wore—commanded attention. Rozalie felt a nervous flutter in her chest. She had interviewed talented musicians before, but this was different. Val wasn't just a star; she was an icon.

Her grip tightened around her notebook as she thought through her questions one more time, mentally rehearsing each word. But before she could settle her thoughts, the door creaked open, and the sounds of footsteps filled the room. Rozalie looked up, her heart skipping a beat as Valentine entered, her stride unhurried and purposeful. She radiated a confidence that made the air feel suddenly charged, and for a moment, Rozalie couldn't tear her eyes away.

— Hey, pretty. — Val drawled, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as her gaze locked onto Rozalie. Her voice was low and rich, a tone that matched her onstage persona—seductive, unapologetic, and completely disarming. It was a voice that seemed designed to make anyone forget themselves, and Rozalie felt its effect immediately.

She tried to steady her breathing, managing a polite smile even as her cheeks flushed with warmth. She wasn't used to this kind of attention, especially from someone she had admired from afar for so long. Here was Valentine, the woman who could hold entire stadiums in thrall, directing that same intensity at her.