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“Huh, your mother must be so proud today!” She folded the newspaper around to show him the front page, where he saw a photo of himself taken last night by some sneaky reporter. He was climbing into a cab with two young women. The headline declared: Joe’s awesome threesome!
“Oh,” he said. “Another Pulitzer-winning headline from The New York Spin I see.”
Eleanor inspected him with her s
teely blue eyes. “Well it’s better than yesterday’s headline, isn’t it? The one announcing that you’d been arrested for driving your Ferrari at a hundred miles-an-hour down the freeway.”
Joseph pushed away his shame. His brother Dylan had bailed him out and given him a lecture, and he’d regretted it, of course. He’d only done it because he’d hoped to flee his problems, but unfortunately they’d come along for the ride.
He gestured to the newspaper in Eleanor’s hands and threw her a cocky grin. “Jealous of my awesome threesome?”
She scoffed. “Hardly. The prospect of spending the night with two hookers doesn’t appeal to me at all.”
“Ha ha. I meant jealous of them.”
“Why would I be? I must be the only woman in the country who doesn’t find you attractive.”
Joseph gazed into her eyes, smothering her with his most smouldering glance. It was a well-practised look that had been captured by the best photographers in the business in recent months – and plastered over billboards and magazine covers. Joseph knew his good looks were popular, but he wasn’t particularly proud of them. He hadn’t done anything to be born handsome, and it was just another thing that added to the superficial disconnectedness of his current mental state. People adored him because he happened to look physically attractive. But he felt like a fraud. It was true that he pumped iron for an hour every morning to keep his body toned, but his face just happened to be how nature had made it...
But right now, he was happy to pull out his most charming grin – the one that always got him out of trouble and into women’s panties. Eleanor blushed under his scrutiny and glanced away. He smirked. She was definitely lying about not finding him attractive. If he could just show her that he was a decent guy… but unfortunately the evidence from the daily tabloids made him look reckless and arrogant.
“Are you sure you don’t find me attractive?” he asked in his most charming voice. “Not even just a little bit?”
She composed herself. “Well, I certainly don’t understand this fascination everyone has with your over-commercialised music.”
“Oh, and I was forgetting your profession is so pure.”
She slung her hand to her hip, emphasising her beautiful curves. “As a journalist, I have a duty to educate, enlighten, and bring facts to the people. What do you bring other than lust and cheap thrills?”
He gestured towards the photo of him and the two women. “For your information, Eleanor, that’s my sister. And my cousin.”
“Oh…” She knew she’d been beaten, so she smirked playfully. “That’s disgusting…”
He chuckled. “Now don’t go getting ideas about telling the world I’m into incest, alright.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have any spare time for that in your busy schedule between getting drunk and having orgies with groupies.”
“You seem pretty fascinated with my private life today, babe. You trying to tell me something?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why, yes I am. I think you’re an egotistical reckless man-whore who needs to be brought down a peg or two.”
He smirked. “Careful, Eleanor, if you keep saying such nice things, people will think you’re falling in love with me.”
“Never! And from the looks of today’s newspaper, you’re only interested in two women at once.”
“I told you, it was my sister and my cousin.” Joseph turned towards the door of the ‘live’ room and pushed it open. “And obviously there was nothing sexual going on. I hardly have time to think, let alone to fuck.”
With Eleanor following, Joseph strode into the studio, realising that everyone was sitting in silence – and that he’d just said the word ‘fuck’ really loudly. Luckily the only people in here were his two bandmates and his manager – Matthew.
Matthew; the man who was engaged to the woman he wanted. The woman he was determined to have. Matthew was good-looking and sleek – the son of an oil baron and equally as slimy. He acted as if the world owed him a living, and he wasn’t prepared to let anything get in his way – not even his morals. Possibly not even the laws of the land. And certainly not Joseph Quinlan.
Matthew was seething. “Joseph, what the hell time do you call this?”
Joseph checked his Rolex. “Quarter-to-twelve.”
“You’d better get started then hadn’t you? I want this album finished before Christmas.”
Joseph threw him a mock salute which quickly became ‘the finger’ as Matthew turned away. Joseph glanced at his two bandmates. They looked pissed off and exhausted. But at least they still had their privacy, because hardly anyone in the press recognised them. Although… maybe that was what was pissing them off.
