Jordan meant every word she said to Lucky. She hoped she didn't make her feel bad, that was the last thing she wanted. The truth was she had never been happier in her entire life.

As she lay in the dark room thinking about how everything turned out, she felt at ease. Being on this tour was the first time she had ever felt comfortable with herself. She got up and entered the shared portion of their suite and thought about how light she felt.

She wasn't worried about who she might run into in the dark, she knew she was safe. As odd as it sounded, traveling from hotel to hotel in that bus gave her the comfortable feeling she believed most people called home.

Flipping through her emails, she re-read one from Ian Taylor, the photographer who shot Lucky. He wanted her to call him. She didn't even know how he got her email address. Figuring out the time in LA, she went back into her room and dialed his number.

"Yes, what is it?" Ian said, answering the phone.

Forgetting he had a British accent, Jordan was startled by his voice. But it wasn't just his accent, Ian sounded demanding and rude at the same time. She wondered if she should hang up.

"Hi? Ian Taylor? This is Jordan Blake. I got an email--"

"Yes, Pixie Girl! How are you?"

"I'm okay, I guess."

"You guess? I need more emotion from you, my dear. I know who you are. Like I told your friend, the camera sees everything and tells the truth."

"You must be mistaken. You didn't shoot me," Jordan said.

"Didn't I? Check your email."

Looking at her phone, she realized she had a new email from him. She opened it up and saw a black and white close up of her face. Aside from the smeared black eyeliner, she saw her own sadness mixed with pain in her eyes, but with a hopefulness that covered her face. She only saw such raw emotion in documentary photographs, of which she was a fan.

"Yeah, so? You took a picture I didn't know about," she said.

"You and I, Pixie, we're peas in a pod. I know that look, that pain. You're just getting away from it now, aren't you?"

"Who the fuck are you? Dr. Phil?"

She couldn't believe him. Who did this egotistical asshole think he was? And why would he even think she would open up to him about things she couldn't tell her best friend?

"You don't have to give me details. I know. I went through something too." His voice was tender and emotional for a moment. "Besides, Pixie, I didn't have you call me to throw a pity party. That's not my style. I wanted to talk to you about a job."

"A job? You have to talk to Lucky. I don't know her schedule if you want to take more photos of her."

"No, it’s you I want. But not to take photos of," he said. "I want you to understand me like I think I understand you. Now what I'm going to tell you, I don't want to ever hear about again, okay? You ever bring this up or tell anyone about this and we're done. Capisce?"

"Yes, fine. What is it?"

"When I was about your age, I had just graduated college. I majored in photography even though my mother told me if I didn't become a doctor or lawyer, I was wasting my life. It was also around this time that I had enough with the abuse I lived with at home and left. I swore no matter what happened, I would never go back. Sound familiar?"

Jordan nodded even though she knew he couldn't see. She was too choked up to say anything. She never told anyone about what happened at home so to hear it from a stranger who recognized it from himself, it was too powerful for her. She softly began to cry.

"Jordan, you don't ever have to go back. I never did. I spent months sleeping on park benches or under bridges because I was too proud to ask anyone for help. You don't have to do that too. I wouldn't wish what they did to me on my worst enemy. I'm sure you feel the same."

"Mmm-hmm," was all she could manage. She tried to clear her throat to speak but couldn't. If she spoke, she knew the pain and the memories would flood back, and it was all too much for her to bear.

"Think about this, Pixie. I don't know if you like photography, but I'm sure you need a job. At least a better one than you might have. I need an assistant. I live upstairs in that warehouse I shot Lucky at. I bought the building years ago when it was ready to collapse and I made it into my studio. With the way the pipes and everything worked upstairs, it’s actually two apartments."

"What are you saying?"

"I need an assistant who can learn photography and help me on location and here in the studio. In exchange, I'm offering a small salary plus your own apartment."

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"Dead serious. Think about it. You can start after the tour if you'd like. You know how to reach me, my little pixie, and I expect to hear from you again soon."

With that he hung up, leaving Jordan shocked over her good fortune. She wanted to jump up and down. When they arrived at his warehouse, she knew exactly who he was. Photography was her love, just like music was Lucky's. Moving to LA would be a huge adjustment, but other than her best friend, what did she have to stay in Boston for?

The next morning, she woke with her cell phone still in her hand. Ian had inspired her to start taking pictures of Lucky and the band on the road, so she charged her SLR's battery while she got ready and then headed down to the restaurant with Lucky for breakfast.

"You must have had the best night's sleep. You look happier than I've seen you in a long time. Good dream?" Lucky asked.

"You wouldn't believe it. I'll have to tell you about it sometime."

Jordan didn't want to tell Lucky about Ian and her moving to LA in the middle of her tour. This was Lucky's time, and she didn't want to intrude on it even if she knew Lucky wouldn't see it that way.

As they entered the restaurant, she took in the chrome accents and modern style which was so different than the last hotel they were in. They all seemed to have the same breakfast buffet though and after dropping her stuff at a table, she began making herself a waffle.

Dylan came in and stopped at the host stand and looked around while pushing his long hair back from his face. Wearing a rust-colored t-shirt, jeans, and a navy and charcoal scarf, she admired his style again. Suddenly their eyes met and he smiled as he walked over to her. She felt every bit of the anger she always carried with her melt as he kissed her hello.

"Hey, I was looking for you. Did you sleep alright?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah, great. Listen, I gotta tell you something you can't tell anyone. I wanted to keep it to myself but if I don't say something, I'm going to burst!"

"What is it?"

"Remember Ian Taylor?" Jordan asked.

"The ego with a camera?"

"Yeah, him. He asked me to be his assistant!"

"Seriously? How did he know you were into photography?"

"He didn't."

"Then why make the offer to you? Did you tell him you have a boyfriend?"

"Gimme a break, are you jealous? I really don't know why he called me." She thought for a while and realized that while she didn't give him anything, he never even asked for her name. She looked over at Lucky. She knew if Ian had asked about her, then Lucky would have told her. "I honestly have no idea why."

"That's odd. But it’s great. Are you going to do it?"

"Yeah, definitely," she said.

"I guess you're moving to LA then?"

"Yup!"

"You know, sometimes I live in LA," Dylan said as he took her waffle and carried it for her to the table as he held her hand. "I was wondering how I'd see you after the tour was over."

He left her speechless. She grinned at him and stuffed a piece of waffle into her mouth so he wouldn't expect her to say anything. She liked him so much, but things were moving too fast. In the back of her mind, she knew he deserved much better than her.