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“Thanks mate.” I take my water and turn to scan the room. I notice several executives from my record label chatting with someone I don’t know. Ross wanted me here tonight to mingle with our bigwigs, know what side your bread is buttered on and all that.
On the other side of the room are a few young actors and actresses I recognize from a movie that released just a few weeks ago. Some trilogy made from a bunch of best selling books. Leah was excited by it, that’s how I know anything about it. She said a girl actually killed herself outside the premiere. Fans can be fucking mental sometimes.
“Adam!” I turn at the sound of my name and see Calvin Wallace and Vic Klein waving me over to their group.
Time to work.
I grin and approach the men, shaking hands and exchanging back slaps with everyone. Cal and Vic are genuinely good people. I’ve known them for eight years. Their touring company put together the band’s first big tour and they’ve done every single one since. They do what they say and they say what they mean, which is rare in the entertainment crowd. Their honesty is refreshing and I appreciate it, especially back when I first started and discovered that lies and backstabbing were commonplace in the industry.
“Adam, great to see you son,” Vic says, throwing his arm over my shoulders to pull me into the circle of suits.
“Great work, Adam. Sending the Harford boy’s stuff to me,” says Dane Calder, the president of my record label.
“Harford?”
He must see the bewilderment on my face because he chuckles and elaborates. “The boy from the hotel. You sent me his work. He came in with his band and played for me, they’re incredible.”
“The kid? You listened to his stuff?” I’m not sure why I’m shocked, I mean, I record platinum-selling records, but it still humbles me that someone like Dane would take my advice. I’m even more shocked that the record label president listened to the kid’s band personally.
“Of course I did.” Everyone laughs with him. “You’ve got a great ear for talent, why wouldn’t I listen if you thought it was good?”
I shrug and take a sip of my water. “Not sure. I’m glad it worked out,” I’m happy for that kid, Roger. He deserved a chance and Dane’s right, his stuff is incredible. I guess a part of me still believes I’m just that poor kid from Hackney, not good enough to have an opinion that matters.
“He should be here tonight with his band. I’m sure he’ll want to thank you,” Dane says.
“Right. Sure.”
“They’re great Adam,” says Rachel Whatley, head of marketing for the label. “I can see them headlining someday. They’re a marketing agent’s dream come true. Kind of like you.”
Rachel smiles and winks at me. She’s always been like this with me, playful, flirty, but it never goes past professional. I like that about her, no pushy expectations, no desire to ‘see what it’s like to fuck a rock star’. She’s brilliant and comfortable to be around and loads of fun when she wants to be.
“Thanks Rachel.” A tall figure behind her catches my eye and my entire body tenses up. “Sorry, I see someone I need to talk to.” I give Rachel her a quick peck on the cheek before excusing myself.
My mind starts working overtime as I approach Kiera. She’s laughing and clinging to the arm of that bastard Andrew Forrester. I may not love her, but I’ll be damned if she’s going to hang all over that prick in front of everyone and make me look stupid.
I come up behind her and around to her side, crossing my arms and waiting patiently for Kiera to acknowledge my presence. Studying him while he’s not looking, I see a flash of irritation on Forrester’s face, and he shrugs his arm out of Kiera’s iron grip as he speaks to a man on his other side.
Ha! She annoys him as well. Normally, I’d say you’re bloody welcome to her, stupid actor, but I refuse to lose to him again, even if I don’t really want the prize.
Kiera finally acknowledges me, but not until fucking Forrester stops his conversation and stares at me expectantly. Kiera turns and seems annoyed that I’m so close to her.
So sorry to interrupt your flirting.
“Adam, I didn’t know you were there,” she says, her lips pressed tightly together.
“I’m quite aware of that.” She frowns, then pouts her lips at me.
“Oh honey, don’t be jealous,” she says with a phony giggle, leaning in to kiss me. I flinch back unconsciously, making her frown again, probably because I embarrassed her with my rebuff.
Whatever.
“I’m not jealous,” I tell her, looking right at Forrester as I speak. “Not in the least.”
He smirks and narrows his eyes at me but says nothing. Sodding bastard!
“Something funny?” I ask, aggravated that I have to converse with him at all.
“Only to me,” he says smoothly in his stupid movie idol voice. I see his eyes widen a fraction as I regard him. Bastard knows that I see right through his fake front. He thought I was too dim to recognize the insult, but the surprise on his face is obvious.
