“I disagree.” Sterling leans forward. “She’s exactly what we need right now.”
I stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Your divorce proceedings have been getting messier each day. The tabloids are having a field day with your ex’s accusations. We need to change the narrative before the album release.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shake my head. “What concern is it of yours?”
He shakes his head. “Slayer, you’re forgetting I’m the good guy. I’m on your side. We saw where this was heading, and about three months ago, we started planning a PR strategy to soften your image.”
“What strategy?”
“An adorable girlfriend to counter all the devil-orgy rumors.
The pieces start falling into place. “You’re not seriously suggesting?—”
“I’mnotsuggesting,” he confirms. “I’m telling you.” Sterling’s tone remains conversational, but there’s steel behind it.
“The photo of you two is already out there. Social media is buzzing. Half the work is done for us.”
“What are you asking me to do?”
“Just make her your girlfriend for the weekend. Let the paparazzi take a few photos. Be available for a Saturday press conference and interviews before and after your concert.”
“I’m not parading around with some girl I barely know as my girlfriend in Saint-Tropez.”
“You seemed to know her well enough last night.” Sterling taps the newspaper photo.
“And she’s perfect—young, beautiful, photogenic. Exactly the type we created for the campaign.”
“Created?”
“We developed a persona—the sweet, innocent girlfriend who softens the Dark Prince. We had social accounts ready, a backstory prepared. Then our candidate bailed.”
He picks up theHeraldagain. “And then, like magic, there you were with the perfect replacement.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “Find someone else.”
“There is no one else. We leave tomorrow.” Sterling’s voice drops. “And let me remind you of our agreement about this European launch.”
There it is. The real leverage.
“This experimental sound of yours—the one I allowed you to record against my better judgment—needs perfect conditions to be received properly. You know that.”
“You can’t hold my music hostage for a PR stunt,” I say, though we both know he can and he is.
Sterling sighs, affecting disappointment. “Slayer, you’ve been pushing this new direction for years. I finally greenlit it, let you spend half a million on those experimental recording sessions.”
“I booked the perfect venue with acoustics specifically calibrated for your new sound. All I’m asking is that you play the game.”
Sterling stands, moving to that window that overlooks the musical playhouses of 42nd Street.
“Three years, Slayer. Three years you’ve been fighting for this album. I’ve created this campaign to help you. And you need all the help you can get.”
The manipulation is so transparent it’s almost laughable, but he’s right. This album represents everything I’ve been working toward.
It’s my way to break free from the Dark Prince persona that’s become a creative prison. This album ismyvision for my music, not his interpretation of who I am.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, hating myself for giving in.
