Escaping Grace

"THERES AN INTERVIEW WHEN?" I squawked in horror.
"Wednesday before we leave for the concert," Ashley informed me, sitting on the coffee table. When he'd first seen my face it had taken him a few seconds to recognize me and then a few more to do the polite sympathetic oooing everyone seemed to be programmed to do.
Now he was telling us Rockstar Magazine wanted an interview with me and Andy in four days.
This could not be happening! I glanced at Andy; he hadn't stopped glaring at Ashley since he'd stepped inside the door.
"Why not the whole band?" I asked anxiously.
"Ilana is just writing an article about the sudden pairing of our bands, especially since she somehow got wind we would be touring together," Ashley sighed. "Trust me, I tried to get John to cancel the interview," he said of their manager, "but he said he owed the editor a favor and on such short notice this was it."
"Ilana is the most conniving bitch I've ever met," Andy grumbled. "There isn't someone else who could do it?"
"Nada."
Oh my god, this was awful. She was going to want to know about my face, and that could only lead to bad things. I chewed my lip anxiously. Maybe I could get out of this.
I needed to call Craig --- maybe he had some sway.
Then again, I doubted it. Craig was a great manager, but he'd come out of a slump when he'd found us, so it was doubtful he was going to be able to do anything about it. I could just simply refuse to do it, but that wouldn't bode well for our image.
I felt sick again.
"It's not going to be that bad," Ashley said, eyeing my face as I probably turned green. "You just gotta know how to deal with her. Andy knows. You just gotta know the answer to her question before she asks it."
I was so jumble mouthed she could ask me about my birthday and I'd probably say pineapples. I
stood, and hastily swept to the bathroom before I became sick in front of everyone.




Andys POV


I sighed. I was seriously considering taking away Ashleys spare key at this point. Why I'd ever considered it a good idea in the first place was beyond me.
"Stop looking at me like you're going to punch me." Ashley scowled at me. "How was I supposed to know you were sucking face with the injured girl?"
"Knocking, maybe?"
Ashley grinned. "Hey, I've never knocked before in my life. How's her living with you, anyway? You wanna settle down and have some kids yet?"
I was going to punch him.
"Ashley, I'm going to punch the shit out of you." Ashley quickly moved before I could reach him, still grinning.
"Hey, just prep her for the interview. I actually did try to call, but you never answer."
I glanced at the bar; I'd left my phone on it. I stood, and sighed.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, and Ashley took his cue. He sauntered to the door, and then turned last minute. "Is she doing any better? She looked green."
"She's got a concussion but she won't go to the hospital," I muttered with a frown. "She's pretty sick. I would almost get a different band for Friday if I knew she wouldn't throw a fit about it."
"Yeah, she has the temper of a wild dog." Ashley snorted.
He had no idea.

Notes