“I think Paul and Connie are the best placed to answer in regard to what you should do. I don’t have a clue about these things.” A lie—given my marketing background—but right now isn’t the time to discuss that. “Though I will say,Live Loungeis pretty iconic and theChicken Shop Dateshow always seems to go viral online.”
Once again, I catch a micro-expression on Paul’s face, this time a smirk, before it returns to a neutral expression. Connie gives away no such clues. Alexander adjusts himself in his chair.
My heart rate begins to settle. Seems like I managed to navigate that minefield without setting anything off.
“Right,” Alexander says. “I’ll do it, but on one condition.”
“Name it,” Paul says.
“You guaranteeStolen Momentsmakes it on the live album, and that we record it today. You do that. I’ll do the promo.” Hefolds his hands across his chest, looking proud of himself, as he leans back into the chair. Paul and Connie exchange a brief look.
“Deal. Let me call up the label and let them know,” Paul says, pushing back his chair to stand. Connie gets up with him. “Oh, actually before I forget, a couple of other things. Alfonso has sent through the revised script. I’ve had it printed off and will leave it in your suite.”
“Okay, and the other?” Alexander’s head tilts upward to meet Paul’s gaze.
“We got the untouched pictures back from yesterday’s shoot,” Connie says, gesturing at Paul to open his iPad. “I want to get one of the images out to the press tonight to help with the push. Can you go through them now and let me know which ones they should start touching up?”
Paul retrieves his phone from his jacket and begins typing away as Alexander scrolls through the gallery. I lean back ever so slightly to try and see. There’s a variety of topless pictures of Alexander, all buff and brooding and in positions that remind me of our second meeting in the gym. I feel my temperature rising, and I scrub my hand across the back of my neck.
“Which one do you think?” Alexander asks. He turns the iPad toward me, flicking between two almost identical images.
I move my hand from my neck to under the table, readjusting myself. The discomfort that my now semi-erect cock is causing in my jeans matches the discomfort in my chest, as Connie and Paul wait impatiently in front of us.
“That one,” I say, returning my hand to the top of the table, stopping the gallery at a topless image of Alexander staring broodily into the camera. His tanned, oily skin is lit to accentuate every single muscle as he stands tall in front of a weight machine.
Thank God, we’re sitting down. My cock is now fully erect. I rock back and forth, trying to adjust myself without making itobvious. Alexander must notice, because his hand slides under the table, grabbing my leg to stop me.
“That one it is,” he says, handing the iPad back to Connie, who nods as Paul lifts his head from his phone.
Alexander’s hand slides up my thigh, stopping when he reaches my cock. A smirk rises on his face.
“The promo’s all locked in, we’re good to go,” Paul says, waving his phone.
“And the track?” Alexander asks. His hand fiddles with the button on my jeans.
“The label has agreed. They’re drawing up a side agreement now to carve out the song as a stand-alone deal, and I’ll have John look over it.”
“Great,” Alexander says, punctuating the conversation with a full stop while attempting to pull my zipper down.
Paul and Connie turn and exit the restaurant, their heads close together and whispering about something.
“People might see,” I whisper, pushing his hand away. I frantically look around, scared someone might notice, but everyone seems lost in their own conversations.
“Well, let’s go somewhere quieter then,” he says. A smile reappears on his face as he stands up.
15.Alexander
Monday
“Let’s run that one more time,” comes the engineer’s voice from the control room.
My back stiffens in frustration. Freddy shrugs his shoulders and reaffirms what I’m already thinking. We nailed that take. Everyone had their parts perfectly down. Andy played the melody note-perfect on guitar. Freddy used just the right amount of percussion for this stripped-back version ofCompare To You.
And if anything, my voice has gotten better throughout the afternoon.
The mild irritation in my chest quickly moves beyond frustration and into anger.
Since lunch, everything seems to be moving at a slower pace. We’ve done numerous takes of each song. Repositioned the microphones. Got through trade union-mandated breaks for the hired musicians.
