CHAPTER FIVE
FIVE
You thought I had a plan but can you not see that I’m lost, the frost of your eyes so unnerving, I’m learning that I’m alone here …
– from ‘Frost’, by These Exiles
‘JUST REMEMBER TO SMILE,’ Derek muttered under his breath as he led me into the hotel lobby. ‘Try not to scare them off.’
‘I’m not going to –’
‘And have you sent the new song ideas to the label? You know they’re waiting on you – marketing too – and the US team have asked –’
‘I’ll send them the lyrics when they’re ready,’ I snapped, trying not to think of the writer’s block I definitely wasn’t suffering from.
I was screwed. I needed good lyrics. Matter of fact, any lyrics would do right now.
‘You’re supposed to be smiling, remember, not whatever constipated look this is.’
My temper, never that far away, flared. ‘Stop fucking telling me –’
‘Look, Jessy is all for it, and you don’t have much choice here,’ Derek said sharply.
I swore under my breath. Of course she was all for it. Who would pass up the chance to get their five minutes of fame? Who didn’t want to attend film premieres, or get invited to industry parties – and afterparties?
‘– and we’re not even having to pay her an extortionate fee,’ Derek continued as we entered the lift and he jabbed nine.
Wait. Fee?
‘Derek.’ I glared at him as he smoothed back his hair. ‘Please don’t tell me that you’re paying this woman to date me.’
‘I don’t have to; she’s not taking a fee,’ he said firmly as the lift dinged and we stepped out into an identical corridor.
I followed Derek to the last door and watched as he swiped the key card to enter.
My stomach jolted. ‘OK, but you offered her –’
‘Here we are!’ Derek stepped into a room and beamed at its inhabitants. ‘Apologies for being late – there was the little matter of a crowd of paps outside the hotel. And how are you today, Ms Donovan?’
There was nothing I could do. I followed him inside.
I’d been expecting one of the bedrooms, but this was a sort of meeting room. A large table was placed in the centre, and two people were already sitting at it. But I was only interested in one.
Jessy Donovan: the woman I’d left on read, then run into at her recommended café, and who I was now splashed everywhere online with.
And she was … shit. Just as gorgeous as I had remembered.
Dark hair, clearly unbrushed and curling in all directions.
A sundress skimming over curves that woke up parts of my body that had been dormant for …
I didn’t want to think about how long. Eyes that I knew were piercing but flickered everywhere in the room but at me.
Fingers covered in silver rings that she tapped on the edge of her chair.
‘We are very well, thanks,’ said the woman sitting next to Jessy, a curious look in her dark, almost black eyes, gold eyeliner popping as she swept her box braids over her shoulder.
Derek looked at me and pointed at one of the empty chairs meaningfully.
I could storm out. Rage. Mutter curses, refuse to co-operate, and … never see Jessy again.
I sat down.
‘Now that we’re all happy with the contract –’ Derek began, but he was immediately interrupted.
‘Patrick doesn’t exactly seem like he wants to date me,’ Jessy said archly, picking up the coffee Derek had brought her and sipping at it. ‘In fact,’ she went on, fixing her gaze on me properly for the first time, ‘you look like you’d rather be anywhere else right now.’
Finally, she’d acknowledged me.
Her voice was light – almost a lilt. It was the sort of thing you noticed when you were a singer – the cadence of someone’s voice. Some people’s made me want to rip my ears off, the grating in their tone just painful – but Jessy’s voice was almost melodic.
Didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous. Her photos hadn’t lied – I’d kind of assumed she’d pushed them through a filter or five to give her that carefully freckled look with the wide eyes and rosebud mouth.
Apparently not.
‘Look, I know this hasn’t been the easiest few days for either of you,’ interrupted Derek hastily, leaning forward across the table. ‘But this is a brilliant opportunity for you both. Patrick dating a normie is –’
‘Excuse you?’
I almost smiled at the outrage on Jessy’s face. It drew her cupid’s bow into perfect relief, and the way she leaned forward made her chest swell just –
Eyes up, Tetlow.
‘Sorry, it’s only – well,’ Derek said, regret colouring his tone. ‘We really need this to work.’
Jessy threw a hand in my direction. ‘He’s Patrick Tetlow. He dates bombshells, real hotties, models, influencers – and in between that he writes some of the best lyrics in the world.’
Do not preen. Do not smile. Do not –
‘And he’s reckless and smashes up hotel rooms and doesn’t care about the consequences. He’s so different to me it’s not even funny,’ Jessy continued, pricking the balloon of my ego with just a few words. ‘How the hell am I supposed to date him?’
‘Fake date him,’ her friend – or lawyer? – said, her curt, professional manner belied by a twinkle in her eye and the half smirk that ghosted across her lips.
‘None of this is real, Ms Donovan – you think half the celebrity pairings on the red carpet are real?’
Jessy blinked. ‘They’re – they’re not?’
‘Babe, don’t be na?ve,’ muttered her friend, tapping away at her laptop with a grin.
‘We don’t need front page headlines,’ Derek continued reassuringly.
Jessy seemed placated, the worried furrow between her eyebrows smoothing out. ‘Oh. Good.’
‘Just pages two, four and maybe six in several nationals each week –’
I almost grinned as her outrage spilled out again. ‘I am not going to be – be creating scenes all over the place just so you can get your headlines!’
Derek stepped in. ‘No, absolutely not, no creating scenes.’
Thank God.
‘Be the scene!’ he said brightly.
For fuck’s sake …
‘You look unhappy.’ Her words were directed at me.
My gaze flicked back to Jessy, and I found myself caught in her eyes again. She was observing me closely, with none of the caution that I’d expected.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ I muttered back, anger creating an edge in my tone. ‘I’m a product, and Derek is about to sell me to the highest bidder.’
‘Let the record show I haven’t actually offered any money for you,’ Jessy pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
No, but what have you been offered?
‘It’s simple, really,’ Derek insisted. ‘Two dates a week – I’ll be sending you to events, you won’t have to worry about organizing anything. Public suggestions of affection –’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jessy interrupted. ‘Public suggestions of affection? Is that not PDA?’
‘We would never actually ask you to kiss Patrick. Consent issues and all that,’ Derek said soothingly.
Do not think about kissing her. Do not look at her lips. Do not think about –
‘The music industry needs to see the two of you together,’ he went on. ‘It can’t all be candlelit dinners in expensive restaurants.’
‘Candlelit dinners, you say?’
I glared at Jessy. Of course she’s into it – and why wouldn’t she be? Wined and dined by a celebrity, the dream of half the women in the world.
‘What?’ she said defensively, shrugging again. ‘I like wine. I like dinners. Sue me.’
‘– then there’s the album launch for Cassandra’s Chorus, following week the after-party for Fashion Week, you’ve got the interview on primetime TV, then you’ll be attending –’
Christ, he really had organized it all. A fabricated love story with a choreographed relationship. Why was I surprised? I’d ridden this rodeo before.
‘– until the Songwriter Awards next month,’ Derek said brightly. ‘To prove to the fans that it’s real, even if it ends straight after. Hell, it can’t continue when you start the Southeast Asia tour in two months anyway.’
‘And I’ll get wine.’ Jessy grinned, sweeping a hand through her hair and messing it up.
I hated that it looked better that way.
My brain was melting, all coherent arguments fading away with every passing second – and Jessy hitching up her spaghetti straps as one fell from her shoulder didn’t help.
I needed to think straight – I needed a way out of this nightmare. The sensation of being trapped was returning: something I thought I’d escaped years ago.
‘Sure, it’s not the most romantic document in the world.’ Derek’s voice broke through my thoughts. ‘But this isn’t a real relationship. You won’t actually be dating – no feelings, no emotions, no hearts to break. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
Isn’t that what you wanted?
I swallowed hard, ignoring the bile in my mouth and trying not to look at the woman beside me.
I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to make music, not to have to act as though I was in love, or whatever, with someone who was probably only into this for the bragging rights.
And the wine.
‘What are you thinking, Patrick?’ Jessy murmured.
My whole body twitched.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look up at her. Blue eyes, freckles, rosebud mouth. Body to die for. She was probably looking for a way to break into trashy reality TV … and I would be spending the next five weeks with her on my arm.
‘He’ll sign,’ Derek said quietly, pushing a pen into my hand.
My temper flared immediately, but it quietened just as quickly.
He was right. Butterflies had been my chance to avoid the label’s machinations. They weren’t going to give me another.
I stared over the contract at the woman I was signing away my soul to.
Jessy sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes and pulled the pen out of my hands. ‘I’ll go first. It’s just five weeks,’ she said firmly, clearly avoiding the triumphant glint in her friend’s eye. ‘I can put up with you for five weeks.’
Well. It wasn’t the best start.