OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

eighty-three.

"HEY, IT'S REAGAN right?"

Reagan's head snapped up. She had been digging in her purse, looking for her damned keys that had somehow been swallowed into a dark abyss. She noted with reluctance that they'd become so easy to lose because they weren't attached to her usual keychain.

Thank you, David, she thought snarkily to herself.

It was his fault. He had been the one to go out and buy her a new BMW, insisting that he had the money to do it and that she desperately needed to replace her old, beat-up Honda.

She'd been in shock when he'd surprised her with it. Accepting the keys into her hands and trying to look past the beaming smile on his face had nearly nauseated her. Who, who in the world, gave a car as a casual gift?

At least it hadn't been a minivan.

"We'll probably need one of those some day," Dave had remarked when Reagan had exhaled her relief over the absence of a soccer-mom vehicle.

"Never," had been her firm reply.

She gave up digging for her stupid keys, plopping her bag into her lap and fixing her attention on her caller. She immediately cleared her throat and stuttered when she saw who it was.

"Uh, yes, Mr. Viotto. Hello."

She could have cursed herself for acting so tongue-tied. It wasn't like the man standing in front of her, Todd Viotto, was her boss. He was just another A&R guy, the type who zipped in and out of the office without so much as a 'hi' tossed at her over his shoulder. Reagan never blamed him for it. All the A&R people had been frazzled as of lately, combing through Seattle in search of the next big 'grunge' band.

Nonetheless, she still preferred the art development team, who always seemed more than willing to greet her hello and strike up a conversation.

Reagan didn't know Todd Viotto personally, but she did know where she ranked in the hierarchy of their mutual workplace. She was at the lowest notch of the totem pole and when it came to roles, Todd Viotto could have turned over the bottom of his shoe in order to find her. It was just the way things worked.

"Are you headed out?" Todd asked, rather uneasily as he drummed his fingers on the front desk counter.

"I was trying to find my keys. Then I was going home."

"Oh. Are you busy tonight?"

"Um . . . may I ask why?"

Todd sucked in his cheeks, rocking back and forth on the heels of his shiny leather shoes. The man had barely spoken to Reagan, and now he wanted to know what she was doing later? Her stomach lurched and she wondered if she was in trouble.

Was she going to be fired? Called into some office and humiliated in front of businessmen in suits? Had she butchered the timing of an appointment or maybe, had she been too curt with someone on the phone?

Oh god. She knew exactly what it was. It had been the previous Monday when she'd gone without lunch and bitten that guy's head off, the ones from sales. She clenched her fingers tighter around her bag until her knuckles turned white.

"Would you like to accompany me to a show tonight?" Todd asked. There was a touch of pleading in his voice. "I could use the extra help. My partner, Bill, he got tied up . . ."

"You want me to go with you to a show?" Reagan clarified, trying not to let her mouth gape open.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I'm checking out this band, The Finks, or something like that. I've got a lot of pressure right now to get these guys's signatures down on a contract."