After an impressive review of their newest album release, Rolling Stone journalist Illyana Romanoff is given the chance to interview Vampire Weekend's lead singer, Ezra Koenig. Though the interview itself is already a deal of Herculean proportions f...
Come on, Romanoff. Take a deep breath and stop your panicking. Remember what Josh told you... Remember the stakes! This is your launching pad onto greater heights. Just... Knock on that door and kill it with this interview...
Earlier That Day
Ezra Koenig — absolute stranger to Illyana. An icon of the indie music scene, and New York City in general. Suddenly, an enormous weight fell upon the young writer's shoulder, and panic settled in as the countdown to her meeting began.
No, it wasn't simply because of what Ezra Koenig meant. There was also the fact that this was her opportunity to reach great new heights in her career. The trust with which Will Dana had given Illyana the assignment was, at first, flattering and an honor; slowly, however, it became daunting. Luckily, Will had been fantastic enough to aid Illyana in the thought process of coming up with questions and topics for the night. Though it wasn't much, such a simple task had become a thing of pressure in the past three days.
Three days.
She was a curious being by nature, however, and though Will could only offer bits of information about Ezra, he quickly recommended she contact JoshEells, a Rolling Stone contributor who had previously interviewed VampireWeekend in early 2010. She did so, and quickly found herself learning more about the preppy singer.
"He's... God, how do I put this...— intellectually intimidating! Yes, I think that's it. He's a machine of knowledge and analysis. But I wouldn't sweat it if I were you, Romanoff. That's about as intimidating as Ezra Koenig truly is. He's an otherwise polite guy. Really nice and generous. Chill. Yeah. That's him. He's like that friend from college who is just so excited over books and words and finding meaning to every little detail in life. And he's so cultured. An observer, too, like F. ScottFitzgerald. It fits him, too. You two are English majors, no? Bond over that. Ask about the literature that influenced the new album. Just — don't be afraid. You'll seem freaked, and he'll become freaked, and it won't be pretty. Act as though he's someone you already know. A friend, maybe. Someone from forever ago."
She trusted Josh with his account of Ezra. He sounded great. But the nerve still lingered furiously. Even more so as she took the taxi twenty minutes east of her Greenwich Village complex to Brooklyn.
•
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present time
A brave step forward and a deep intake of breath, and her arm found itself reaching for the door while her hand balled into a fist. One, two, three — a knock. "Great new heights, Romanoff," she told herself. "Don't screw this up."
Not a moment too late, the door swung wide open, revealing the man of the hour, himself; Ezra Koenig. Her first impression was as follows:
Jesus, he's tall!
"Illyana Romanoff, I presume?" He asked with a kind smile on his lips. He stepped out of the way and held the door open, saying, "come right in! I've been expecting you!"
"I am, thank you very much," she replied. "Don't mind if I do." Readily, she entered his humble flat — literally. A small place with very few indicators that a world traveled lead singer lived there. No extravagances, nor did anything seem obnoxious. It was just ... Well, Illyana didn't know what it was exactly. Pure Brooklyn, she decided. "I'm so sorry for my slight delay," she apologized. "Traffic was simply miserable on the bridge."
"Was it?" Ezra asked, shutting the door behind him. His brow was raised in interest. "Where do you live?"
"Greenwich Village," she said. "Not far, actually. I suppose there was a minor accident that took some time to be fixed — well, not much but, you get it."
"It's no problem, Ms. Romanoff. In fact," he quickly departed the living and headed for the kitchen, "your delay was a blessing in disguise!"
Illyana scrunched her nose. "How so?"
He reappeared, this time however, carrying a large plate of pizza. "Thought I would be a proper host and feed you something, at least. It's nothing fancy, but it's just arrived and it's New York styled."
Alright. Perhaps this won't be so bad.
— Author's Note: Fiiiiiinally; Ezra! Quick introductory chapter for the second half of the story. Like he said, nothing fancy! This chapter was actually meant to be at least twenty pages long, but I preferred to make it simple. There's much more coming, I promise!
Chapter title taken from lyrics to the song 'Be Still My Heart' by The Postal Service
