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Professionally, we’re thriving. Success seems to favor us, even when our personal lives tank.
The Stuffed Muffins rise no matter what. I turn again and lean my hand against the glass window. Paris, Fashion Week—I came here because I’ve gotten back with my on again, off again model girlfriend.
I’m trying to be supportive and show up when she walks the runway. I guess you could say Paulette’s the closest I’ve come to having a relationship in all these years. I’m thirty-five, our last album Untouched went platinum and stayed number one on the charts for months.
“Is there anything you want, Granger? This is going to be a major motion picture, a gritty look at the band, your pasts, and your future in the rock and roll world,” Stanley announces. He’s the bigwig at Weddington Studios.
I know I shouldn’t do it. I need to leave her alone. She’s successful and seems happy. But my heart still beats for her. Or maybe it’s just my cock that beats for her. Whatever, I can’t seem to find peace. I’m obsessed with a green-eyed goddess.
She’s my muse… Goddammit.
“Yeah, I do want something. I pick the DP and the photographer, or I walk,” I state, causing the whole room to stop what they’re doing and stare at me.
Someone clears their throat, and I grin at the stunned executives and Rafe who looks like he’s ready to lose it. He’s not stupid. He knows.
The execs glance around at the band. Ammo leans back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head.
“Who’d you have in mind, brother?” He smirks.
Stanley clears his throat and leans back in the leather chair. “The thing is, Granger, production has started. We have an award-winning DP, and he has his crew. As for the photographer, we thought we would hire a few to give the band that gritty look. You can’t be serious. We’re paying you a small fortune.” His eyes narrow and he reaches for a Fiji water.
I nod. “I’m dead serious. I have more money than anyone should. A movie about us does nothing for me. I can’t speak for my bandmates. They can do whatever they want, but I don’t allow the cameras near me unless you use who I want.” I put out my cigarette and move toward the door as Stanley stands.
“Who do you want?”
I smile and walk back over, pulling out a chair to drop into. “Gia Fontaine and Sebastian Knight.”
“You got to be shitting me?” Cash looks up from his phone and shakes his head.
Stanley leans back to look at me. “Unfortunately, Gia Fontaine has passed on our offer. We wanted her first. She said for the right price she’d consider selling some early pictures of the band, but to go on tour and be our visionary, she declined.”
“Well then, I’m not available.” I hold up my hands and look around the table, first at the suits who seem uncomfortable, and at Ammo who throws his head back and laughs.
“Fuck it.” He stands. “I’m with you, brother. He’s right. Gia Fontaine is the only one who truly knows this band, so make the magic happen.”
Stanley looks stunned and aggravated. “I… is this what you all want?” He looks at Rafe as if that’s gonna make me change my mind.
Cash stands. “Get Gia or I walk also.” He nods at me as he walks by.
I knock on the table. “There you have it. The Stuffed Muffins have spoken. Make it happen, Stanley.” All eyes turn to Nuke who still sits passed out.
I almost snort, but I’m not that dick anymore. I can’t point fingers. Nuke is dealing with things the way he does. I’m no better.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I do need to go watch my girlfriend walk the runway in thirty minutes. I leave you in the capable hands of Rafe.” I stand.
Stanley looks down at the papers in front of him as his assistant types on his phone and shows it to Stanley. “This is the Sebastian Knight you’re talking about?” He holds the phone out, and there’s the motherfucker’s face on IMDb.
“Yep, that’s him. An up-and-comer. You’ll love him. Very production friendly,” I say over my shoulder. “Go after him first. You get Sebastian, you’ll get Gia.”
Rafe stands as I pass. “Gentlemen, excuse me. I need a moment with the Rock God.” He walks next to me as I exit the room.
“What are you doing? Gia? And Sebastian Knight? He’s threatening a lawsuit against you.”
I look down the elegant hallway and back at him. “I’m sure he’ll drop the suit. We’re offering him a chance to go from a nobody to an actual DP. What time is it?” I smirk. “And if you’re worried about it, make him sign something.”
“Fuck you, Granger. Why now? After all these years you really want to put yourself and her through this?” he sneers. “You see her one time”—he holds up a finger—“for a few minutes, and you’re bribing her with her boyfriend?”
