Chapter 17
SLAYER
Usually, I take time to admire this exceptional glimpse into old Broadway. But today I remain standing as he circles behind his desk, the space between us charged with tension.
“How is it that you kept your new girlfriend under wraps for so long?” he asks.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“No? You must not have seen Vanessa Sinclair’s column this morning,” he says, tossing me his device.
I turn the screen towards me. There we are in Vanessa’s column—Bix and me, stepping out of the noodle shop. The headline reads: “Dark Prince’s New Muse?”
I scoff. “You know the New York Herald. Vanessa likes to make things up on a slow news day.”
“Not so slow,” Sterling counters. “Everyone’s asking about your new girl online.”
“She’s nobody.” The words come out harsher than I intended.
“I disagree.” Sterling leans forward. “She’s exactly what we need right now.”
I stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Your divorce proceedings have been getting messier each day. The tabloids are having a field day with your ex’s accusations. We need to change the narrative before the album release.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shake my head. “What concern is it of yours?”
He shakes his head. “Slayer, you’re forgetting I’m the good guy. I’m on your side. We saw where this was heading, and about three months ago, we started planning a PR strategy to soften your image.”
“What strategy?”
“An adorable girlfriend to counter all the devil-orgy rumors.
The pieces start falling into place. “You’re not seriously suggesting—”
“I’m not suggesting,” he confirms. “I’m telling you.” Sterling’s tone remains conversational, but there’s steel behind it.
“The photo of you two is already out there. Social media is buzzing. Half the work is done for us.”
“What are you asking me to do?”
“Just make her your girlfriend for the weekend. Let the paparazzi take a few photos. Be available for a Saturday press conference and interviews before and after your concert.”
“I’m not parading around with some girl I barely know as my girlfriend in Saint-Tropez.”
“You seemed to know her well enough last night.” Sterling taps the newspaper photo.
“And she’s perfect—young, beautiful, photogenic. Exactly the type we created for the campaign.”
“Created?”
“We developed a persona—the sweet, innocent girlfriend who softens the Dark Prince. We had social accounts ready, a backstory prepared. Then our candidate bailed.”
He picks up the Herald again. “And then, like magic, there you were with the perfect replacement.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “Find someone else.”
“There is no one else. We leave tomorrow.” Sterling’s voice drops. “And let me remind you of our agreement about this European launch.”
There it is. The real leverage.
“This experimental sound of yours—the one I allowed you to record against my better judgment—needs perfect conditions to be received properly. You know that.”
“You can’t hold my music hostage for a PR stunt,” I say, though we both know he can and he is.
Sterling sighs, affecting disappointment. “Slayer, you’ve been pushing this new direction for years. I finally greenlit it, let you spend half a million on those experimental recording sessions.”
“I booked the perfect venue with acoustics specifically calibrated for your new sound. All I’m asking is that you play the game.”
Sterling stands, moving to that window that overlooks the musical playhouses of 42nd Street.
“Three years, Slayer. Three years you’ve been fighting for this album. I’ve created this campaign to help you. And you need all the help you can get.”
The manipulation is so transparent it’s almost laughable, but he’s right. This album represents everything I’ve been working toward.
It’s my way to break free from the Dark Prince persona that’s become a creative prison. This album is my vision for my music, not his interpretation of who I am.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, hating myself for giving in.
Sterling’s smile is immediate, victorious.
“Simple. You and Ms. Bismark fly to Saint-Tropez tomorrow. She attends the events as your girlfriend. You both look happy and in love. Monday, you return to New York. The social media will continue for a few months while the album settles. But for the most part, she’ll be out of your life.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I'd suggest you read the terms of the contract you signed. It’s to your benefit to play by the new rules, as you’ll clearly see.”
“And what about her? What if she refuses?”
“She won’t.”
As I leave his office, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being played from all sides.