One thing I appreciated about Matt: he was at home everywhere he went.
‘Derek’s giving us our penance – our “make the world love us again” assignments,’ Wes said with a grin. ‘And Patrick gets to date a celebrity.’
‘Look,’ Derek wheedled, coming over to me and kneeling down like I was a toddler. ‘I know last time was a bit of a –’
‘Shitshow,’ I snapped.
‘The record label needs to be able tosellyou,’ Derek said. ‘And after that drink-driving disaster, and, let’s be fair, your less than stellar record –’
‘It’s been years,’ I bit out, not looking at him. I mean, what did they expect would happen when they gave a teenager millions to do with as he liked? Safe investments?
‘– and you’re more marketable if your lead singer is in a romantic relationship with another celebrity. Have you ever heard of Brangelina? Kayne and Kim? J-Lo and Ben, both times?’
‘I do not –’ I said firmly, rolling my eyes at Derek’s painfully outdated celeb gossip – ‘want to be Brangelina.’ A shudder went through me at the thought.
‘If These Exiles can survive this, we can look at truly global advertising,’ wheedled Derek, moving away from me and heading over to Matt, who glared stonily at him from his keyboard. ‘Hot sauces, fancy undrinkable gins, fragrances, the works!’
Wes snorted. ‘I don’t want to be the face of a fragrance!’
‘No one wants you to be the face of a fragrance,’ Ben shot over from his corner.
I let them bicker as I picked up my coffee. When I lifted the lid, I could smell the grapefruit notes.
This is what I need.
‘– don’t want to fall into the same trap as Patrick –’
I couldn’t tell who’d said it. It didn’t really matter. They were right, whichever one of them it was.
‘Celine was Satan’s mistress,’ Ben was saying darkly, ‘and you know it.’
She was a mistake. But like the very best of mistakes, I hadn’t known it at the time. A gorgeous blonde with a smile that lit up rooms and a talent that lit up the box office. I’d bumped into her at one of those pre-award parties … or at least that was the story we’d spun for the blogs. Our first encounter might actually have been at our agency’s office, but the story had become a little truer when we’d woken up in bed together the morning after a night out.
That was how it started: friends with benefits. Then, just when I’d realized perhaps there was more – at least on my side – she ran off with her co-star. I didn’t know what hurt more. Her leaving me, or the cliché of it all.
I couldn’t do that again.
Derek was smiling uneasily. ‘Look, Patrick, it’s your name we’ve got to rehabilitate.’
I swore under my breath.
‘You’re the frontman. The lead singer. You’re the most visible member of the group,’ he said in a rush. ‘You’re the one everyone remembers –’
It didn’t help that I was our main songwriter. It was my words we sang up there every night on tour, my words the crowds sang back to us – some fans had even tattooed my lyrics on to their bodies, which made me slightly uncomfortable.
I thought they were good, obviously … but even I hadn’t imprinted any of them permanently on my skin.
Besides, no good lyrics had come to me in weeks. I wasn’t panicking about it – just quietly anxious. Because there was always another album needed. Another chart-topper the label was waiting for.
‘Fine,’ said Derek with his hands up. ‘What about a compromise?’
I looked up. Derek had that pleading look on his face.Hell.‘What kind of compromise?’
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than another Celine situation.
‘Hokapp,’ Derek said triumphantly.
There was only one appropriate response to that. I swore.
