***
I awake to the sound of hammering on the door.
‘I’m coming,’ I yell. I touch the screen of my phone and the time flashes: 09.02. There are seven missed calls from Jay. All the visions of him with that woman from the night before flash through my head like a ‘Previously on …’ section of a TV show and I get that nervous tummy ache that makes you want to vomit.
‘Who is it?’ I ask before opening.
‘It’s me, Jay, you silly sod. Let me in – I need to tell you something.’
The fact he tries to make this light-hearted makes my blood boil. I know exactly what he wants to tell me and I don’t want to hear it. ‘I’m not well, leave me alone.’
‘Kat?’ he asks, concern fraying the edges of his tone.
‘Please, just go away.’
‘No, not if you’re poorly. Let me come in and look after you.’ The familiarity of his gentle voice gives me a lump in my throat, then I remember myself. I won’t be made to look a fool. He may want to carry on as normal but I certainly don’t.
‘Jay, this whole thing between me and you was a mistake. I don’t blame you for being you, but I need to be me and that means going back to the way things were. I want to call this off.’
‘What?’ He has the nerve to sound shocked. ‘I have no idea what you’re on about. Please let me in.’ His voice tremors like he’s scared. He’s good, I’ll give him that much.
‘I don’t want to see you anymore. It was wrong to mix work and pleasure and, as your boss, I shouldn’t have let it happen. This is all my fault for being unprofessional.’ I could tell him the truth about what I saw, but that would just give him the chance to worm his way out of it and make excuses I don’t want to hear. I’d rather draw a line under the whole thing and move on as friends.
‘Have I done something wrong?’
I let out a small humourless laugh. Has he? He’s a stripper, for goodness’ sake; he’s only done exactly what I expected him to. He’s a late bloomer, that’s all, and I’m a fool for fantasising about us being anything more than a silly fling. I’m an idiot for being shocked at seeing him with another woman. I have nothing left to say, so I rummage through a mental bag of clichés.
‘It’s not you, Jay, it’s me.’
‘Kat?’ His voice is weak. I want to open the door and I know I need to confront him, but right now I can’t keep it together.
***
A few hours of sitting on my balcony reading a book later and there’s another bout of hammering on my door. I contemplate ignoring it but I can hear Marcus yelling my name.
‘What is it?’ I ask, flinging the door open.
‘We have some news, Kat.’
‘We?’
‘The Hunks, all of us. Jay tried to tell you earlier but he said you wouldn’t let him in. Are you feeling better, by the way?’ Marcus plonks himself on the bed but can’t seem to sit still.
‘Er, yes. I am. Thank you. What is it?’
‘When we were in the bar last night, we got talking to that American judge, Brad. He was telling us how great he thought our performances have been and asked who our manager was. Some of us think he might want to offer us a gig. He lives in Las Vegas, Kat; we think he wants us to go over there.’ The corners of his mouth twitch as he tries not to smile, obviously gauging my reaction first.
As the information sinks in, I don’t know how to react.
‘And … he wants to speak to me?’ My mouth is dry, and my question is obvious, but I’m confused. I don’t know what else to say.
‘Yes!’ His smile finally cracks; he’s full of excitement I don’t share. I want to vomit.
I think I already know the answer to this question but I ask it anyway: ‘And, I’m sure you have your hopes up for nothing, but if he did, you would all want that? To go to Las Vegas, I mean?’ He looks up at me with hopeful eyes and then he takes my hand in his.
‘We don’t want to get our hopes up because we don’t really know if that’s what he wants to talk about, but …’ he smiles a wide grin, ‘… pretty much. Pauw might take some convincing and Hugo wouldn’t want to leave his family here but think about it, Kat – things are not going well at the moment but we do put on a bloody good show. The clubs in Vegas have all the latest tech, the lighting and special effects and so on. We could be world-class. There would be so many promotional opportunities: TV, sponsors, US tours. We’ve drained the well here. This is the next step for us. This could be our chance to hit the big-time.’
I sit down next to him and sigh. ‘He might just want to talk about how I got things going. Don’t get your hopes up, Marc, and seriously, would you all be happy to up and move to another continent?’
‘It’s a twelve-hour flight back to the UK, it’s a four-hour flight from here – what’s eight more hours in the air in the grand scheme of things?’
I give an exasperated shrug. I honestly don’t think some hotshot Vegas businessman would want an exotic dance act from the hotels and bars of Tenerife.
‘The cost of living will be more there you know.’
‘We’d manage!’ he says. ‘Can you call him? I have a card.’
‘Fine, I’ll call him. I guess it won’t hurt to hear what he has to say.’
Marcus hands me a shiny black business card with hot pink writing on it. ‘You’re a star, Kat.’
Chapter 27
Brad Sharp suggested we meet in a little bar on the promenade. As I head down the palm-lined walkway towards it, the view of the crashing azure ocean below draws me in. It’s a view I’ve come to take for granted. The uncertainty of the Heavenly Hunks’ future has made me question whether I would be better off going back to England if things don’t work out.
Brad sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of pasty new arrivals that probably came in last night. Dressed in a navy pinstripe suit with a crisp white shirt and a navy tie, he’s got that clean-cut American business look. Not quite the T-shirt-and-shorts attire I’m used to seeing here. I don’t even ask the server if the man is waiting on anyone; I just head straight over.
‘You must be Brad,’ I say, holding out my hand. Instead of taking it, he stands up and hugs me.
‘Kat, how great to meet you. I’ve heard so many awesome things.’ He gestures for me to sit down. ‘What can I get you to drink?’ he asks. He’s smooth, I’ll give him that.
I notice he has a beer but I need to keep a clear head. ‘Just a green tea for me, please.’
He gestures to the waiter and places my order then focuses his attention on me. ‘So, I’ve been watching your show throughout the competition and I have to say, I really love your act. Obviously, there’s a trip to Las Vegas for the winner, but I want to run something else by you.’
I shuffle forwards in my seat. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘The winners get to perform a one-off show in Las Vegas but I want to offer the Heavenly Hunks a residency in my new Las Vegas venue, The Forbidden Theatre.’
‘A residency?’ My head starts to spin.
‘Yes, an initial six-month contract, with a view to extending it to a year if the Hunks are a success. We’d cover travel and accommodation and we’d be looking at five shows a week, pretty much guaranteed to sell out.’
It takes a minute to absorb everything he’s saying. ‘You want the Heavenly to move to Las Vegas and perform in your club?’
He grins a perfect set of white veneers and lifts both arms in the air. ‘Why not? Who doesn’t love Vegas?’
I’m not sure I would, but it’s not just about me, is it? ‘It’s a lot to think about. I mean, Tenerife is the home of the Hunks.’
‘If you want to be a real success in the entertainment industry, Las Vegas is the place to be.’
I think about the gigs we’ve lost. I’ve really failed the boys. They deserve this break. Ant wants to make more money, Marcus is still moping about because that girl flew back to England and never called him and Sammy would lap Las Vegas up like an excitable puppy. I’m sti
ll furious with Jay and hurt, but I still care about his story and this could be his chance to make it big – show his mum how he’s changed and makes a good, honest living now. I’m just not sure about Pauw and Hugo.
‘I suppose. How would this even work? I could do with reading the fine print.’
‘Of course. You’re the business owner, so obviously you and I need to cut a deal and come to some sort of agreement on an asking price.’
Cut a deal? I hadn’t considered that he’d want to buy us out. Selling the Hunks is a big deal. I’d thought he was offering us a permanent gig, but if I put my business head on, I suppose it makes sense: if he wants to pull all the strings, he’d need to own the Heavenly Hunks business. Our choice is a family dance act and day jobs, or doing what we love in Las Vegas.
‘Okay, but before I can even think about that, I need more details. What’s the exact proposal?’
‘As I said, it would be five shows per week at ten p.m. The two days off would be free days, with a show rehearsal on one of those days. It’s quite a large auditorium that we’ve acquired, and we’ll have a big-name singer on two nights a week but we haven’t signed contracts yet so I can’t say who. Anyway, here are the fine details.’ He takes a document out of a file and turns it so that I can see.
The pay is monthly, guaranteed and not ticket dependent. The apartments will be shared and free for the initial six-month stint. There is a mutual get-out clause after six months with a view to extend to a twelve-month residency after, just like he said. It all looks promising but could I relinquish all the control and just be a compère?
‘What about this bit, here?’ I point to a clause.
At least four of the original dancers must sign contracts to be part of the Las Vegas act in the initial six-month period.
‘It means I’d need four of the original Hunks to sign a contract for this deal to go ahead. We feel for it to be the Heavenly Hunks, we need to guarantee the original dancers. I can bring two new dancers in but any more than that, I feel like we’d lose the essence of the show. In the early days at least.’
‘And you really think the Hunks have got the magic to bring the crowds in?’
‘Oh definitely. The guys are electric on stage and the crowd are completely drawn in.’
I smile and carry on scanning through the document. Everything looks pretty straightforward – obviously, I’ll get a solicitor to check it over. I know Andrea has a good friend who does a lot of British property purchases; he should be able to understand it.
The last section is entitled ‘The transfer of intellectual property’, and it talks about the handover of the brand name and my rights to trade as the Heavenly Hunks. I flick back but can’t see anything about me as a compère. Has he called us all dancers in the contract? I’m confused.
‘Brad, am I one of the four dancers you need?’
The server places my tea on the table and I thank her. When she walks away, I notice Brad’s expression has changed and his head has fallen slightly to the side. ‘I’m sorry, Kat. I think we’ve got our wires crossed here. I want to buy the Heavenly Hunks brand from you. To be able to really ramp them up, I’d need full managerial control and that means making sure I have the right person fronting them too. In Las Vegas, we have a great emcee called Jenny Grant. You may have heard of her?’
I nod. Of course I have; Andrea loves her! She’s a great comedian who’s been on UK TV too, on something like 8 Out of 10 Cats. My stomach sinks. Where is he going with this?
‘Well, we’d like her to emcee with the Hunks. She has a great rapport with the crowd and she has a huge following. She really is what we need to take the Hunks to the next level.’
‘Okay,’ I say quickly, wondering what my role could be. Then it sinks in. ‘So, if you’re managing all the bookings, and the guys’ contracts are with you, and Jenny is the emcee, what would I be?’
‘Kat.’ He leans in and speaks in a gentle tone. ‘We’d be buying the business from you. That’s what the section on intellectual property is about. We’re buying the brand because we love what you’ve done, but it’s ready for bigger and better things. I’m the guy who can make that happen. You’d be free to do whatever you like, here, in this beautiful place.’
Oh. My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach. Oh God, I’m not included. I almost feel my chest tear in two. On one hand, I should be proud of the fact I’ve helped create something so amazing that someone like Brad wants to buy it off me and take it to the next level, but on the other hand, I’m part of the Hunks. We’re a team. I’m not ready to say goodbye to them.
‘I don’t think the guys will go if they know I’m not part of the deal,’ I say quietly.
He furrows his brow. ‘Look, I get that this is a tough decision and I’m sorry. You are great up there but we really want to take the Hunks to a global level and we can’t do that without a sell-out name to kick us off. Jen is already a well-known personality. She’s loud and brassy but has this charm that works and as I said earlier, she has a massive following. People would book tickets for the Heavenly Hunks just to see Jen. It’s a leapfrog move for the Heavenly Hunks with an unfortunate sacrifice. Jen is here and really loved the show too. She has tons of ideas for it.’
I get a flutter of inappropriately timed excitement. ‘Jenny is here too?’
‘She’s an investor in our project. We decided a while ago we wanted to get in on this modern-day male stripper thing that everyone’s talking about. We’ve travelled around looking at different acts for a while now, but they’re all very similar or too high profile already and we want something unique to us. The Hunks had a bit more talent between them – it’s not just naked guys dry-humping – that’s why I wanted to approach you before the competition results because this offer stands whether you win or lose and at least you can make the decision with a clear head.’
‘Say this all …’ I swallow, ‘… went ahead, what sort of time frame are we looking at?’
‘My club is ready to open and I could get the Hunks on stage in three weeks’ time. Needless to say, the legal stuff would have to move quickly.
The thoughts in my head are fighting to be heard. I feel everything: crushing embarrassment at assuming I was part of this, stomach-wrenching sadness at the prospect of losing the boys and giddy excitement at what they could become. ‘I need time to think about this.’
‘Of course. I need to make a call. You drink your tea, have a think, and we’ll chat some more shortly.’
As he leaves, I screw my eyes shut. It’s more discreet than banging my fist on the table or letting out the scream contained inside me. I take a sip of my lukewarm tea, which is bitter after leaving the teabag in for too long. I have a lot to process. Firstly, I’m not going to Vegas, but I can live with that – it isn’t somewhere I ever saw myself living. Secondly, how do I tell the guys I’m not part of the deal? I should be honest with them and let them make their own decision. I know they will vote to stay with me out of loyalty but the ugly truth is that I have nothing left to offer them. They really want this break. They need it. Paul needs the confidence, Marcus needs cheering up, Ant needs to earn some more money, Sammy needs to see the world and Jay, Jay needs to be apart from me. Even if Hugo doesn’t want to go it’s a flattering offer and he’ll have no trouble picking up work here. The guys have given me so much of themselves. It’s time I do something for them. The kindest thing I can do is tell them I don’t want to go and it’s time for me to do something different. I think that if I say that, I can convince them to go.
Brad reappears and sits opposite me. ‘Do you need more time?’
I take a breath. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but how much are we talking?’
‘We think this figure would be fair.’ He slides a printed banker’s draft over. Presumptuous much?
My eyes adjust to the small typeface and almost fall out of my head. ‘Bloody hell.’
Brad smiles. ‘We realise this is a lot to give up: your livelihood, your
team.’
‘If the guys want this,’ I say past the lump in my throat. ‘I can’t hold them back.’
‘Then talk to them and if they’re happy to go ahead, let them go, and do good things with this money. I assume you love living here? This money would help keep you on your feet for a while after the Hunks leave.’
As much as I don’t want to admit it, the money will help. ‘Of course. Mr Sharp, if the contract looks okay to my solicitor and the guys want this and are happy with their contracts, you’ll have yourself a deal.’ The words feel wrong and clunky in my mouth.
‘Great. You check things from your end, talk to the boys and if the plan is a goer, we’ll have to meet up again to sign off all the official paperwork. You’re welcome to bring along a lawyer, but it’s a straightforward agreement and the money will be yours as soon as we sign.’
I hand him back the cheque. ‘Okay, I’ll wait for your call.’
Considering what I’m potentially giving up, that all seemed too straightforward.
As I leave the bar, I’m filled with heaviness. It’s the end of an era but it’s so much more than that. It’s the end of the life I carved out, the happiness I created. It’s the end of living the dream I worked so hard for. Still, it’s the right thing for the boys and I can’t hold them back. I’m a victim of my own success, I suppose, but that sounds so conceited. I’ve started from scratch before; I can do it again.
The next task is to tell everyone I won’t be going and sell the idea that it’s what I want. I’m not quite ready for that, so I sit on a stone wall that encases a flower garden on the promenade and look out to sea. It’s become a cloudy September day in the time I’ve spent with Brad and the Atlantic has turned steely and fierce. There are a few die-hard families on the beach but large swathes of it are empty. I can’t believe I’m going to lose my boys. A sharp pain pierces my chest as I imagine life without them. I’ll miss doling out the advice, setting curfews and just having them around. I know it’s selfish to think this way but they’re all I’ve had for such a long time. I’ll miss Jay too. I know things aren’t great between us now, but in time, we would have been friends again. Now we won’t have the chance.
Sun, Sea and Sangria Page 17