by Brigid Coady
Oh. Buggering hell, this was why she’d really been sent here. Her job was to be the bad guy.
All she wanted was her own bed, without the Monster Munch crumbs Gee had probably dropped in it. But that was thousands of miles away, and she got the feeling the one reserved for her here wasn’t going to be used any time in the near future.
‘Fine. Take me up there,’ she said pushing herself upright and wobbled on tired legs.
‘Don’t you want to drop your bags in your room?’ Amanda asked.
She did, but Emma knew if she went anywhere near her hotel room she’d collapse on the bed and not get up. Probably until Tuesday.
And that had job endangerment written all over it.
She suddenly felt a yawn take over her body, and her mouth widened so much that she shivered and her teeth chattered as she closed it.
She clenched her jaw. No, she couldn’t let anyone see that she wasn’t on top form. She needed to wrangle control here. Because that is what she’d been sent to do. She was the general in this campaign and they were going to follow her plan, whether that was A, B, C, or Z.
‘Work first, then bed,’ she said, dragging her case towards the bank of lifts.
Trying to stay upright as the lift climbed upwards, she staggered as they got out at the right floor and were met by big burly security guards who advanced with purpose. She was too tired for this, she thought, leaning against a wall. She went into what felt like standby mode as she let Amanda sort it all out.
‘Emma, this is Paul, their tour manager. Paul, Emma is here to sort this out.’ Amanda introduced one of the large blokes now surrounding them.
‘Good luck, you’ll need it. Bunch of eejits.’ He said it affectionately but also as if he was exasperated. She supposed he had been taking the brunt of it.
She wheeled her suitcase until they came to room twenty-three hundred.
Okay, it seemed like everyone else had failed to get through to them and probably annoyed them, it was probably best if she did this alone.
‘Why don’t you let me do this on my own?’ She gestured for Amanda to leave.
‘Are you sure?’ Amanda looked worried.
‘Yeah, it’ll be fine,’ Emma lied. ‘It’s a boyband, how much trouble can they really be?’
Amanda moved back towards Paul and security with a dubious expression that said that they could be a lot of trouble.
‘I’ll just be over here.’ She gestured down the hall.
Emma nodded. Okay, she could do this and the quicker she did, the quicker she could sleep. Propping her suitcase against the wall, she knocked on the door.
‘Who is it?’ The voice through the wood was muffled but had a distinctive Irish accent.
‘Sean? Its Emma Woodhouse, can you let me in?’
There was muffled talking and muttering from the other side of the door.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I just want to talk,’ she said, resting her forehead on the wood. It was remarkably comfortable there. She closed her eyes.
The murmuring of voices from the other side rolled over her like a lullaby.
There was the sound of locks undoing and she leant back just in time to stop herself falling face first into the hotel room.
‘Hey,’ she croaked at Sean. He ushered her in. She left her suitcase outside but hauled in her backpack. She didn’t think they’d try to hold her hostage but she didn’t like to have her laptop too far away.
It turned out that room twenty-three hundred was quite large. But it looked like a small storm had ripped its way through it, spewing and strewing clothes over every surface. Empty food boxes and wrappers spilled from overflowing bins and decorated the tables. The massive king-size bed was rumpled, and a sofa bed was pulled out, with sheets twisted over it.
She stood in the doorway, and Sean closed the door and walked around her. He joined Amit who was sprawled at the foot of the main bed. In the centre, Will was propped up against the headboard. He looked like the king of all he surveyed, and at the moment he was surveying her and the look on his face said he wasn’t impressed. Yup, she had been right, Will was at the heart of this group, he had been the instigator of this strike, she was sure. She wouldn’t get anywhere unless she had him on side.
And as he looked like he was only holding back from getting one of the boys to frisk her for a concealed wire or a gun, this would be an uphill battle.
Beside him, almost curled into his lap, was Ed. He was scowling at her.
‘I’m not doing it,’ he said, before she could say anything.
She watched as Will reached out and ran a hand through Ed’s hair, gently tugging at the curls that sprang up. Amit had his head pillowed on Will’s thigh and Sean was curled round Ed’s feet.
She sighed. Why hadn’t she left this till tomorrow morning? But she knew why. They were on a tight timetable and everyone was relying on her to get them compliant so that all the narratives she’d invented held up.
‘Look, Ed…’ she began.
‘No, you look, give me one good reason why should he do it?’ Will demanded.
And that was the crux of it really, why should he? And she knew Will didn’t want to hear all the usual bullshit about all the legal reasons why he had to do it. They’d all signed contracts and now someone else was in charge of their public persona. All for the good of the band. Legally if Ed didn’t do it this time, then there would be some other event or pap walk he’d have to do. And if he still fought it… well, there were ways he’d be personally penalised for not co-operating. It was business after all.
Looking at the stubborn faces in front of her, she could feel her heart ache. Didn’t they get that she was a professional, the whole team were. Their job was to sell the boys, and part of that was their ‘personal lives’, real or imagined. And she was trying to do this in the least offensive way she could.
‘Look, I get it. It sucks to have to be out there pretending something isn’t real. But think of this like being an actor. When you walk outside just think of it as walking on a stage, you know it’s make-believe. It doesn’t stop you being Ed or Will or Amit in private, just in public you put on a mask. Come on guys, it isn’t that hard?’
‘It isn’t like you have to pretend every time you walk out the door, is it?’ Will said scathingly.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was as if he’d punched her. Because she did have to do it. Everyone did, didn’t they? Wasn’t that what being a grown-up was all about, putting on masks and doing things you didn’t want because, well… it would be chaos and carnage if everyone got to do what they wanted.
‘Look, we all have to do things we don’t want to do. It’s called being a grown up.’ She rubbed at her forehead trying to make the headache that was spiking in her brain ease. ‘And Ed is going to be dating Frankie whether you both like it or not. That train has left the station and is running down the track and it isn’t going to stop. You have to get on board or get run over, you should’ve said something before.’ She really must be tired if she was using these trite metaphors. She could almost hear Gee groaning behind her.
‘The more you make these big protests the more they’re going to penalise you. And don’t think it will be money, it will be locking you down, don’t you get that? Instead of a day at Christmas it will be a whole week.’
Will’s hand stilled in Ed’s hair.
‘They can’t do that, can they?’ Ed asked. ‘Will, they can’t.’ He sounded panicked.
‘I don’t know, but most people don’t fight their own teams. Look, that is the worst-case scenario. But if you all just play along and don’t make waves, you’ll be fine. They’ll leave you alone. I mean it is only for, what, three months, six max. And at the end of the day you’ll be more famous. In fact, it will be easier than the non-stop radio interviews. We’ve got it set up so that she’ll be at rehearsal tomorrow, there will be some very long range blurry snaps and that is it.’ At least for now, she thought but didn’t say.
She hoped she was putting enough truthfulness in her voice for what she had said.
Because she didn’t know if that was true but she’d always been a big believer in the fake it till you make it. That was how she got through the day – plan, lie and fake until no one saw what was underneath. Until everything bent to her way. These guys needed to learn that if they wanted to get by, to survive.
‘But if it was anyone but Frankie Quick… I don’t want to be the bad person she ends up writing about,’ Ed said, looking even younger than his nineteen years. ‘And isn’t it weird that she’s like twenty-five…’ He looked so confused.
Why were they fighting it like this? She swallowed past the sick feeling in her stomach. Usually her clients were happy with their pick. Maybe Gee was right, maybe they weren’t happy? No, she couldn’t think that. Mega! wouldn’t do that to their clients.
Ed did have a point about Frankie being that much older than him. But according to the official narrative he’d already had previous relationships with women in their thirties, so people seemed to buy it, that he went for older women. Admittedly that had been with a different publicity team, and it wasn’t a narrative that she would’ve gone with. How a seventeen-year old band member with a woman in her thirties made him desirable to the key demographic, she didn’t know… It felt distinctly seedy, like some middle-aged man’s adolescent fantasy.
‘Anyway, you’ll be touring for most of the contract. Other than a few meetings here and there when it seems right. They aren’t going to make that big a difference, are they? You’ll hardly have to see her.’
A wave of jet lag crashed over her, robbing the last of her words of any real punch. She wanted to go to bed. Please let them agree to this.
She watched as Will pulled Ed in closer and hugging his arms over Ed’s chest. Amit watched them both while Sean watched her. The four looked like a unit, keeping each other together.
What she wouldn’t do to have Gee here to collapse on. But it would only be two days. And it wasn’t like she could completely relax on him like that.
‘Okay,’ Will’s voice was raspy. ‘No more overt rebellion. Ed and Frankie will meet tomorrow at rehearsals and he’ll stick to all the dates already agreed on but… we need to sign off anything extra. Plus, we want it in writing that me and my family will also be at Ed’s for Christmas, I don’t care if they have to smuggle us in under cover of night. Right? And I want to know everything that’s happening with any of the boys. We sign this off collectively. NO dividing and conquering.’ Will’s jaw stuck out pugnaciously as he made his demands.
A massive yawn rolled through her, causing her to try and look accommodating while shuddering with the stress of not letting it out. She’d agree to anything at this moment as long as it meant she got to go to bed in the next twenty minutes.
‘I’ll check with her team, I’m sure it will be fine.’ She crossed her fingers. Hopefully she was making them believe her. They may not be holding her hostage physically but mentally she was under their control through lack of sleep. ‘And I’ll make sure the rest of the team know that any individual plans are to be told to all of you.’
‘I’m holding you to it,’ Will said as if he was personally making her responsible.
She shivered but that was because she was tired, wasn’t it? Will could be a bit sinister but he wasn’t scary. Only a little intimidating. But who would believe that Will Poulson, the shiny smiley popstar could be like that? Will might be the oldest of the boys at twenty, but he still looked like he wasn’t legal.
However, propped up on that headboard, the band all arranged round him, he looked like he would pull the world down around him if anyone messed with his boys.
No, the shiver was definitely tiredness, because that sounded delusional.
She turned around and walked towards the door, and as she opened it she stopped and said: ‘Tomorrow I expect to see you all downstairs for rehearsal.’
Then before any of them could change their minds, she shut the door and slumped against it.
‘Well?’ Amanda asked. Emma looked over her shoulder and spoke directly to Paul who was standing just behind Amanda with his arms crossed.
‘They’ll be at rehearsal tomorrow.’
Paul nodded but his face was sceptical.
‘No need to let Frankie’s people know how close it came to not happening,’ she said to Amanda as she took the handle of her suitcase and dragged it down the hallway hoping she’d make it to her bed before she collapsed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma watched the boys rehearse from the side of the stage. They were like a group of pre-schoolers hyped up on sugar, running around the space, prancing and spinning. A choreographer shouted instructions which they mostly ignored. Their vocals were good, and she shivered as Amit hit shimmering high notes, with Will’s raspy tenor supporting it.
Okay, they could really sing. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Oh, yeah, she remembered the band had been auto-tuned to within an inch of their lives on their albums. This would be good, and if they could keep Ed from walking into the pyrotechnics because they were on a larger stage than the one in London, then everything would be perfect.
Couldn’t they see that they needed her? This sort of talent needed to be publicised. They needed a bigger audience. She took a sneaky video to send to Gee.
‘Hey, she’s here.’ Paul’s Irish brogue cut through the boys’ voices.
She turned to see him grimacing at her. For a tour manager, he’d yet to cultivate the stoic blank look she was used to. But maybe being with this lot meant that he’d been pushed to his limit.
She followed behind him, her lanyard pass swinging from her neck. Why did they always rub? She scratched at the point where it was itching her.
She heard Frankie before she saw her.
‘How many times have I told you, Tess. It is my name in the headline and if I have to share it then I still come first. We had this written into the contract, didn’t we? So, go and get the Daily Planet to change it. Doesn’t Don Warton want an exclusive? Use the pressure on him. Okay so where is this twinky boy-bander? He’d better be more believable than when you put me together with that queer werewolf actor… you should’ve known he’d done gay porn.’
What the hell? Emma couldn’t help but feel herself go cold and she had a sick feeling in her stomach. Was this really who she was making Ed hang out with, even for a moment? Frankie seemed… well, abrasive seemed too tame a name for it.
Frankie Quick might be a phenomenon in the music industry, but in real life, she was a phenomenal pain in the arse.
For someone whose public persona was perky girl next door, approachable, and no fuss, she sure made up for it in private.
Emma stumbled over a cable as she and Paul came closer.
The group of people turned.
Crap.
‘Hi, Frankie, I’m Emma Woodhouse I work for Mega! Management.’ She put her hand out to shake Frankie’s.
There was a brief uncomfortable pause as Frankie stared at her hand like it was a bomb.
Should she take it back? It felt weird to have it just hanging there. Was it beginning to sag?
She watched it tremble as if it were someone else’s.
‘Hi, I’m Tess,’ the woman standing next to Frankie said. She reached out to take Emma’s hand, as she was pulling it back.
This was not a good way to start a business relationship, she thought as she pulled her hand back to find Tess was attached to it. Tess lurched forward into her arms.
Bugger.
‘Sorry.’ She righted Tess and went to brush her down. The woman looked at her as if she were mad. Emma froze with her hands poised above the other woman’s breasts. Not good.
Okay, so she wasn’t going to be friends with Frankie’s team. She could deal with that.
‘For god’s sake, what are we doing dealing with amateurs?’ Frankie said.
Emma could feel herself heating up with embarrassment. How dare Frankie
call her an amateur, she’d been in the business longer than this brat. She drew herself up and looked over at the spoilt star who was rolling her eyes and stabbing at the screen of her phone.
Frankie’s style was polished girl next door with her sleek, long, dark blonde hair with a fringe over her slightly too small blue eyes and her lips always puckered into a smile and painted pink. Very wholesome, although Emma could’ve done without the cutesy animal knitted jumpers, it had always reminded her too much of Dolores Umbridge and she wasn’t sure it was the best look. But now, being in front of her, she realised that maybe the jumpers were exactly right. Frankie’s expression held no warmth. Cold and lizard like. Umbridge.
She shuddered. She needed to get this done as soon as she could, being around Frankie too long could freeze her.
‘Okay,’ Emma said. ‘So we’ve got some photographers in the stadium for rehearsals, all of them are known to us and we get to pick what photo gets out. We’ve also planted a few crew members with their phones plus the publicist team to make sure we get the optimum video. We’ll be releasing it through an alleged crew account that is managed by us.’ She wasn’t letting anything go by chance. They had one take on this and she had cameras scattered across the space to ensure she got full coverage.
‘Fine. Let’s get it over with, I’ve already wasted too much time on this,’ Frankie said.
Emma glanced at Tess who was fairly quivering with anxiety. She wasn’t sure how someone could simultaneously lean forward as though waiting for the off and also be cowering back as if waiting for a smack. Maybe dealing with the BOTP boys wasn’t so bad.
‘This way,’ Paul said from behind and her and she turned and hurried back. Please god, let this work, she thought. They headed back towards the stage. She gave her pre-arranged signal to Amanda.
Amanda went on stage and whispered to Ed. He stopped bopping around immediately, his whole body slumped as if the strings had been cut. Paul then beckoned Ed over. He looked over at Will before turning to walk slowly towards them.
It was as if everything stopped, a suspended instant. Will’s vocals cut, then Amit’s supporting harmonies fell away. The other three boys were frozen in place, their backing band faltering to a stop. They all watched Ed walk away from them. And then in the silence there was the snipping click of a camera shutter closing.