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Mandy snickered. “Is that the worst you can come up with?”
Pointing a shaking finger at Mandy, Verlene scoffed. “You, you have no idea what you’re doing. Since you took over arts—”
Alice pushed the tray of scones she’d baked that morning toward Verlene. “Cream? There’s homemade strawberry jam.”
The conductor turned up her nose. “All I’m saying, Johnny, is that if Mr. High-and-Mighty-Nutty-Ass misses as much as five minutes of another rehearsal, you’ll have to choose. Me,” she paused dramatically with a finger on her chest, “or him.” Her statement delivered, she flicked her grey hair back and made plenty of noise with her heels as she marched from the room.
When Johnny dropped his head on his arms, Alice patted his shoulder. “It’ll be a marvelous show.”
He lifted his face a fraction. “If the reviews are bad, we’re buggered. I hope you realize I’ll lose my job.”
“Now, now,” Alice cooed. “Don’t be so dramatic. The theater needs new life. We need a younger audience. Retired patrons aren’t enough, any longer. You’re doing the right thing.”
“He really is nuts, you know,” Mandy said. “When we discussed my concept for the posters, he told me to do whatever the hell I want.”
“You can’t say he’s crazy just because he’s not bothered about the poster,” Alice said.
“I suggested using a naked photo of him,” Mandy said.
“What?” Johnny jerked his head up. “Good God, now we’ll be sued for sexual harassment!”
Alice checked her watch. “I have to go. I’m picking him up at ten for our interview.”
“You’re not going by tube, are you?” Johnny asked.
“Of course, not. Can’t risk it, not without dealing with fainting girls in the underground.”
“I was more worried about safety.”
“Don’t worry, I followed protocol. I sent his agent the full agenda and offered our security team, but he prefers to use his own.”
Mandy sat up straighter. “Is it true someone tried to shoot him after his concert in Saint Petersburg?”
Alice pulled on her raincoat. “I can’t say about that.”
“You know, don’t you?” Mandy narrowed her eyes. “Lucky bitch. You get all the inside info because you’re PR. It’s selfish not to share.”
Alice winked. “I’m good at keeping secrets. That’s why I’m in PR and not in arts.”
Mandy snorted. “Have fun with the hunk.”
“I doubt it.” She picked up her briefcase. “Later, Johnny.”
As per Kate’s request, Alice parked at the back of the William Kent House adjoined to The Ritz where Ivan resided in the Prince of Wales Suite. She hoped he didn’t plan on prolonging his stay in London after the concert. It would be best for both of them if he returned to New York as soon as possible.
Taking a deep breath, she reaffirmed her resolution to remain professional, friendly, and untouched. Last night had proven that Ivan was still the same determined, obstinate person as before, but the boy had grown into a man, and it was a strange, hard man with demons in his eyes who’d faced her in that pub. His hostility was palpable and unwarranted. It wasn’t as if he’d been deflowered and abandoned without as much as a word. Not understanding the motive for his grudging behavior, she’d decided, in the interest of her job, her best defense was indifference.
The object of her thoughts left through a staff exit wearing a faded T-shirt, torn jeans, boots, and a beanie pulled low over his forehead. Ivan scrambled into the passenger side of the car while two men in running gear took the backseats.
“Morning,” she said. “Thanks for being on time.”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Do I get a kiss?”
She rolled her eyes and turned to the men in the back. “I’m Alice.”
“I guess not,” Ivan said with a smirk.
“Morning, miss,” the taller of the two said. “I’m Ben, and this is Donald.”
She glanced at the pistols that peeked out from under their sweaters as they made themselves comfortable.
Ivan’s voice drew her attention back to him. “Don’t worry. They know how to use their guns. They won’t shoot you in the back by accident.”
His beard and moustache were neatly trimmed into the style so many rappers fancied these days with a sharp line running from his sideburns down to his jaw. A silver hoop pierced his left ear. His upper arm muscles flexed as he lifted his butt to look for the seatbelt. Buckled up, he pulled off the beanie and smoothed a long fringe over his brush cut. With the heater on full-blast to clear the vapor on the windscreen from the earlier rain, it was warm in the car, but the discs of his nipples were contracted to hard points under his T-shirt. He smelled good, of clean linen and soap.
His lips twitched. “Like what you see?”
She put the car into gear and steered them into the traffic. “Kate and I agreed on a slightly less,” she glanced at him, “informal look.”
