Addie, her assistant, smirks at me when I pause in front of her desk. She taps twice on her phone to find out the time. “Six minutes?” she says, referring to how late I am.
“Considering I only found out that I needed to come in to meet her because of a text from you at four AM, I think six minutes can be excused,” I tell her. “I was in the building at nine. You can ask Jessie,” I counter, and she laughs.
“Sorry about the short notice,” Addie says. “Did you hear what happened?”
“Jodi?”
Addie slides her laptop over and leans forward. “Decay’s bodyguard, James, called Cynda around midnight asking for a replacement photographer for the rest of the tour. He said Jodi was sneaking onto the tour bus and trying to catch Mads without his mask.”
Mads…
Mads Tourning, Young Decay’s bassist, as he’s known to the rest of the world. To me, he’s just Maddox Keynes. My brother’s charming and annoyingly hot best friend.
He’s never been photographed without his skeletal neck gaiter mask on.
I scoff.She’s lucky Mads didn’t break her camera, is what I want to say, perfectly picturing him breaking it in half and smiling in her face without his mask while he was doing it just to be a dick.
Even so, I know he likes to portray a certain persona to the rest of the world, so instead, I just say, “Oh,” while raising my brows.
Addie smiles crookedly and opens her laptop again. “It wasbad,” she adds. “Jodi says someone higher up asked her to get the photo because a tabloid is offering some ridiculous amount of money for it.”
For a photo of Mads?
“That’s insane,” I reply, disgusted by the idea.
“I’ve been here since five with Cynda trying to figure this out,” Addie goes on. “She’s tried calling the band’s manager and talking to the guys upstairs. However, they’re all telling her she needs to find someone safe. The band is talking about canceling the tour over it.”
“Shut up,” I exclaim.
Though, it didn’t surprise me. I know Mads prefers his privacy, and if there’s any sort of threat to him, Reed will lose his mind over it.
“It’swild,” Addie says as she reaches for the phone. She hits two buttons and presses the receiver to her ear, and I see Cynda answer on the other side of the glass.
“She’s here… Yep. Yeah, I’ll send her in.” Addie hangs up as Cynda pauses her walking pad and steps off, the brunette finally looking in my direction. She gives me a small smile and waves, both of which make me squint at her.
Cynda isn’t exactly a smiling-waving kind of person. She’s more of a ‘stab you in the artery with her heel while stepping on your neck’ sort of person, and that’s one of the things I love about working for her. She doesn’t deal with bullshit.
She must be fucking desperate.
I’m still wearing that wary face when I open the door, and Cynda scoffs.
“I’m assuming you heard,” she says as she sorts through a few papers on her standing desk.
“I—”
“You know, you just can’t find the right people for this job anymore,” Cynda cuts me off, her eyes cast down. “Everyone is looking to make an extra buck. No one has any dignity or pride about the people they’re covering.” She finally looks up and gives me an annoyed, flat stare, and I smirk at her.
“I was going to ask what happened to your face, but I see you’ve fixed it,” I say.
Her lips curl upward in the slightest manner, and she pushes her dark brown hair back. “Was it that bad?” she asks.
“It was terrifying,” I reply.
A snort of amusement leaves her. “Andi, you’ve worked for me, what? Ten years now?”
“Fresh out of college,” I reply.
“You’ve always had a good eye and even temper for this industry. Tell me why I don’t have you on tour with one of our larger clients?”
