“Not that I can remember, we were all pretty out of it.” A flicker of irritation underlies my words at this unfolding Spanish inquisition.
“You better message me straight away if you hear from him.” Laura tightly grips my wrist with her hand. My stomach lurches at the thought of having any more unnecessary communication with her.
A nod is all I can muster. Her hand slowly releases its grip.
No wonder Brian cut off all communication with her.
“We’re ready for another take,” Alfonso says, coming up to us and grabbing a french fry. The chef, who has been lingering behind the counter, pours out a few new ones to replace the ones we’ve eaten.
I let out another sigh. God, I can’t wait to get out of here.
I’m desperate to collapse into the seat at the back of the privatejet and switch off for a couple of hours, but it seems the team wants to run through the plan for the next few days.
“So good to see you,” Connie says. She half stands up from her seat to embrace me, pulling me downward. The fur collar from her jacket tickles my nose. She quickly grabs her laptop as it slides down her leg to stop it from falling.
Lucy comes up behind me and passes me my sweatpants. I quickly change in the toilet before returning to join them. I sit in a beige leather seat opposite Paul as he wraps up a call. Lucy plonks herself down in the seat beside me.
“Good to see you, kid.” Paul slaps my knee and throws his phone down on the table as Erica and Rob come down the aisle alongside the steward, who balances a fruit platter in one hand while pressing a button beside the window next to me to bring up a table.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks as he sets the platter down. The top of his hair flattens slightly as it brushes the roof of the jet when he stands.
“A glass of Moet, please,” Connie says, busying herself with her laptop.
Paul coughs and draws Connie’s attention upward.
Unspoken words are shared between them.
“Sorry, make that a Coke Zero.” Connie’s mouth is drawn into a frown.
Great. They’re monitoring me too.
My rib catches on the arm rest and I wince as I retrieve my phone.
“Anyone else?” The steward adjusts his waistcoat.
“No thanks.” I shake my head as I keep my focus locked on my phone, and I instantly regret it. A sharp shooting pain forms in my temple. The pain drops into my chest at the sight of my empty notification menu. No new messages from Christopher.
Paul covers my phone with his hand. “How’s filming been?”
Great. Small talk. My favorite.
“It’s been a long slog. I’m so exhausted.” A yawn escapes me. “I’m looking forward to wrapping in two weeks.” I stretch out, my legs nearly hitting Paul’s and my hands almost touching the light above me, before I lean forward to grab a strawberry.
“You’ve done great.” Paul’s voice is sickly sweet, the way it always sounds just before a request comes. “Before we get to Manhattan, I just want to run through a couple of things in the schedule with you.”
Paul hands me his iPad. My muscles tense as I see the first item on the page.
“Why are we going to Electric Lady Studios when we land?”
“Nathan, from the record label, put forward a great idea. He suggested that you record Andy Williams’sIt’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Yearinstead of using the original version for the Brewed commercial. We all think it’s genius.”
“We? This is the first I’m hearing about it.” Anger rises in my chest as I scroll through the itinerary, trying to locate any windows where Christopher and I will be together.
“Do you know how much money Mariah rakes in each year fromAll I Want for Christmas Is You?Nearly three million dollars.” Paul’s jubilance does nothing to stop the frustration rising inside.
“She cowrote the song. This is a cover.” I chuck the iPad back at him. “And why am I not doing a rehearsal for tomorrow’s shoot?”
“Even as a cover, the song will become an evergreen hit, generating a nice sum for you each year when Christmas comes round.” Paul places his iPad down and grabs one of the bottles of water left on the side.
