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"Still."
"You think you're my favorite?"
"I am."
She clears her throat. "That's not relevant to the point."
"But that's why you're interested in my image."
"No. That's my job. But… I am a fan. I do know your image."
I shoot her a not buying it look.
Still, she stays composed. "Give me a break. You're super hot and you sing like you're about to fuck someone. Most women my age are a little bit in love with you."
"You can't be a little bit in love with someone."
"I understand that you're playing a role. Maybe it's 99 percent you, but it's still a role. We can agree on that."
"If you admit I'm your favorite."
She blushes.
Fuck, she's not like any fangirl I've ever met. She's holding her own in an actual conversation.
It's interesting.
Her smile lights up her dark eyes. "You're used to getting what you want. But I'm used to dealing with people who are used to getting what they want."
"Admit it and we can move on to your point."
She presses her lips together. Her eyes meet mine. She studies my expression. She must decide I'm worthy of validation, because she nods. "You are my favorite musician. Happy?"
"Ecstatic."
"You shouldn't be. It's mostly the whole singing like you're about to fuck thing. And your looks. Not your musical talent."
"You wound me."
"Good."
"But I don't believe you."
The blush in her cheeks deepens. "Well, that doesn't matter. What matters is that we can agree that your label sells you as Mal, the damaged brooding bad boy who hurts deep in his soul."
"And I'm not that guy?"
"How should I know? We just met." She turns the monitor so it's facing me. "This girl, this model. She's pretty, yes, but she's not someone the damaged bad boy fucks. That's not what your fans want to see."
"And you would know?"
She stares back at me. "Dangerous Noise has never done the video vixen thing before. I'm sure that's for a reason."
It is.
"This is a small industry. Word travels fast. You have a reputation for getting what you want."
True. I nod.
