Roller Coaster Ride

I hung my hope on the next day.

Dawn came over in the morning and we quickly wrote our script out to call the hotel again. This time, we’d speak with Rick’s tour manager and try and set something up.

I was shaking as I dialed the hotel and asked for the tour manager’s room. He answered on the third ring.

I looked up at Dawn with the deer in the headlights look. “He answered!” I mouthed. I was sure I’d be leaving a message and didn’t really expect to actually speak to him.

“Hi, Mr. Miller. My name is MFL. I wanted to talk to you because I’ve written a book about Mr. Springfield, and am nearing the time to submit it for publication. I wanted to have his permission prior to then so that it would be that much easier for a publisher to accept the work, knowing that it wouldn’t have to go through a lot of back and forth. Since you are here in town, I thought it might be easiest if I came by and was able to discuss it with you further.”

It was a good thing we’d written it all down. I was sure it sounded like I was reading, but it was better than being completely unable to speak and having him hang up the phone on me.

“Really? That sounds interesting. Sure, you can come by the hotel, bring by the manuscript. We’d love to see it.”

I couldn’t believe my luck! He wanted to read my book. He was ASKING me to stop by the hotel. Incredible!

“Thank you so much Mr. Miller. I’ll be by later this morning.”

Oh my goodness!

Now, how would we get there? My sister was already gone, and my mother was obviously at work. My brother didn’t have a license yet, not that he would even think about doing me a favor. Dawn’s sister was also working. Her mother?

A quick phone call later, and Dawn’s mother was on the way over to pick us up. Their car wasn’t the most reliable, so we were a bit worried about driving the half hour to the hotel, but we were all willing to take the risk of breaking down on the way there. We were so close. We had to try.

We made it to the hotel without incident. I couldn’t believe how small the lobby was. It was very tiny, for such a large hotel, with a small desk in the corner. What should we do?

I looked over at Dawn for direction. In that time, about ten seconds, a beefy man in a blue blazer came up to us and asked us our business at the hotel. We told him about our previous conversation with Rick’s tour manager, and I showed him the blue box that contained the manuscript.

“No problem. We’ll be happy to deliver this to him,” the man told us, reaching for the box.

“But Mr. Miller asked us to come. We were really under the impression that we’d be meeting with him personally. Can you at least call his room and ask him if he’d come down?” I gave him my best “please help me I am just a young girl who has a big crush on a rock star” look.

“Sorry. This is the best I can do for you. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get it.”

I looked helplessly over to Dawn. This was not turning out the way I’d planned. She shook her head slightly at me, as if to say, “Nothing more we can do here.”

I handed the box over. It was clear we weren’t going to be allowed to wait around in the lobby, use a house phone, or anything else. I felt the same sense of deflation I’d felt the night before rising in my chest.

“Thank you. It’s really important, so please be sure he gets it.”

Dawn and I walked back out to her mother’s car in silence. She didn’t ask, and we didn’t say a word.

I could feel a chunk of my innocence fall away as we drove out of the parking lot.

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