Rachel guided Zack towards the studio area, chatting with him about instruments, songwriting and a folk music documentary they’d both seen. She handed Tom her phone as they passed him, preloaded with a playlist she was confident Zack would like. Tom got it going while Rachel settled Zack inside the ring of lights and reflectors, and Nate clattered around the kitchen working the coffee machine.
As Tom adjusted the equipment and the voice of James Taylor meandered around the room, Rachel chatted with Zack, noting down everything that might be suitable for his mini-bio and soon feeling like she had plenty to work with.
Before long, Tom had established a comfortable dynamic with his subject, taking flurries of photos, tweaking some aspect of their set-up or composition and then shooting more. Zack was clearly more confident than Rachel had been in front of the camera, shifting his body and tilting his face on cue in the way a fashion model might.
Tom had to work hard, joking and chatting to keep Zack engaged and prevent his face falling into its standard brooding stare. Gradually, though, Zack’s expression started to relax, his face becoming more real somehow as Tom gave him room to unwind.
Rachel watched Tom work, fascinated by a side of him she’d never seen before. Occasionally she’d creep up to glance at the photo monitor, startled every time by the beauty of the images he’d captured. She made a mental note to thank Anna for pushing her into doing this; it was fun and interesting, and she couldn’t imagine someone else here in her place.
As the shoot neared its end, Zack had an idea that no one could deny was worth exploring. He wanted to try taking some photos in the suit he’d brought with him, but wear it scruffier than usual – rough it up and subvert the style his fans were used to seeing.
As Zack retreated behind a screen to change and Nate lugged a heavy-looking YSL bag across the room, Tom pulled his mobile out of his coat pocket and put the phone to his ear, presumably to listen to a voicemail. Rachel could tell immediately that something was wrong.
Sinking into a plastic chair, he dropped his face into the palm of his left hand as he clutched the phone in his right.
‘What’s happened?’ Rachel asked under her breath, crouching down and clinging to the arm of the seat. ‘Tom?’
He groaned. ‘It’s my brother.’
‘Yourwhat?’
As far as Rachel knew, Tom was an only child – but she told herself now wasn’t the time to badger him into explaining the sudden appearance of a sibling.
‘Is he okay?’
‘No. Well, yeah … But he’s twatted in some pub not too far away. Which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact he’s only fifteen.’
‘Fifteen?So the age gap between you is … No, forget it – that’s not important right now. Was he calling you for help?’
‘It’s not him, it’s his mates. They’re terrified he’s going to get them all arrested, and they don’t dare call his mum. None of them are even supposed to be in London.’ He clawed at his dark-blonde head. ‘Urrrgh, fuck it, I’m going to have to go and get him.’
‘No,’ Rachel insisted, ‘it’s so unfair for you to have to abandon the shoot when it’s going so well. And it’s only the first one – what will Dev think? Listen …’ she went on, not entirely sure where she was going with this, yet certain it couldn’t be anywhere good. ‘I have enough notes on Zack to pull my copy together. Let me go and fetch your brother. Although you’ll need to give me his name and some sort of description.’
Taking responsibility for a hammered teenage boy was somewhere between camping and giving up cheese on Rachel’s list of Things I Have No Desire To Do, but Tom’s face was desperate and it made her insides hurt. He shut his eyes and sighed as he processed what she’d said.
‘Really?’
‘Really. How long ago did his friends leave that message?’
‘Only about ten minutes, thank God.’
‘Right. Give me your phone so I can get your brother’s number. I’ll find them.’
‘Are you sure about this?’ Tom asked. ‘It sounds like he’s in a proper state.’
‘Thomas, I have about a thousand Irish cousins and I’ve spentmanysummers hanging around the street corners, parks and pubs of County Dublin. I promise you, your brother won’t be the first battered schoolboy I’ve kept out of harm’s way.’
Tom nodded at her gratefully.
Rachel grabbed her handbag and pulled her coat on, then stopped. ‘Er – who am I looking for again?’
‘Oscar Evans. Answers to Ozzy. Looks kind of like me, I guess, but shorter.’
‘Right. Leave it with me. If it looks like Zack’s still here when I get back, I’ll find somewhere else to take him.’
‘You’re brilliant, Rach,’ Tom said. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
She smiled at him, then reached up and gave his arm a squeeze. She slipped out of the door just as Zack, dazzling in his slim-cut designer suit, stepped back in front of the camera.
