Chapter 32 #2
It’s not the practiced, musical sort of laugh I’d assume would come from a nepo-baby reality TV star used to being in front of the camera. It’s abrasive, and on the borderline of a snort.
I find that I can’t look away.
There’s something about the sight of her, her hair in a messy braid over her shoulder, and her expression completely unbidden, that has my thoughts stuttering to a stop.
“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Everett says, standing straight. “I have a contract for you to sign.”
“Contract?”
“Yes, it contains your NDA and outlines what we’re looking for. The outline part is non-binding and up for negotiation.”
It’s clear in the tone of his words that the NDA is one hundred percent not up for negotiation.
“The other clause that isn’t up for negotiation is that we get final say on everything that’s released. Every piece of media, every article, every social media post.”
“Understandable.” I nod, taking the thick contract from his extended hand.
I dig into the front pocket of my bag, pulling out a pen, skimming through the contract and signing away.
I’d sign anything to land a job like this.
Would I be as careless if I didn’t need this job? Definitely not. But I need this job.
If this project performs as well as I think it will, the network will have to green-light any future projects I want to do. So even if I don’t feel as passionate about this one, a dream job is still a job, sometimes.
“So, how exactly will this work?” Beckham calls from the couch, leaning his forearms on the backrest and eyeing me as I stand at the kitchen island.
I glance at the others in the room, gauging based on their expressions whether there’s a “correct” answer here or not.
“Well, I’m sure, considering how thorough this contract is, that you and your team have some ways you’d like this to go, but I certainly have recommendations for a project this size.”
“What kinda suggestions?” Beckham asks, drumming his fingers along the couch.
We have the same nervous tic. The sight has me relaxing ever so slightly.
Maybe I’m not the most nervous person in the room.
Unlikely, but at least I’m not the only nervous person in the room.
“Well, if you have any new music you’d like to promote, that could be what I write my first article on?”
He nods eagerly, seemingly waiting for me to continue.
“And considering... the scope of this project, if you’re looking for a docuseries, we could look at doing an interview in your hometown. Considering the limited interviews you’ve given in the past, I’m sure there’s an audience for learning more about you and where you come from.”
“That’s a good idea,” Leo hums.
“I think it sounds cool!” Beckham adds.
My gaze darts to Everett, gauging his reaction to the idea. He seems to be the one with final say here.
Everett offers me a single nod of approval, his brows raised ever so slightly, like he’s surprised at the suggestion.
I’m good at my job.
I glance at Andromeda, who’s watching me so intently it feels like she’s peeling back layers of my skin. Well, I’m good at my job when it doesn’t involve going into a club and trying to weasel my way into an interview by cornering a drunk girl by the bathrooms.
There’s a spark of intelligence that was far dimmer last night. The dark strobe lighting of the club certainly wasn’t doing her any favors. She must have been far more intoxicated than she let on, considering how eloquently she chewed me out.
Even with the ridiculous fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders she almost looks like an angel as the sunlight filters through the floor to ceiling windows, casting her in a halo of light.
Elijah is the only one who doesn’t seem to like the idea—if the harsh set of his jaw and unwillingness to look at me is any indication. But luckily for me, he doesn’t say anything.
“I’d get to show you where I grew up, Starlight!” Beckham says eagerly, turning his bright smile to Andromeda.
I watch their exchange, unable to tear my gaze away.
“That’d be cool,” she says, her smile shockingly genuine. “You’ll have to show me all the good places.”
From what I know, Beckham is from a small town. It’s barely considered a suburb, and it’s surrounded by farmland.
Considering Andromeda was born and raised in LA, I can’t imagine a place like where Beckham grew up would be all that interesting to her. But her comment seems genuine.
It catches me off guard.
“It’s not much, but it’ll be cool to show you the old stomping grounds.” Beckham’s smile cuts to Elijah and Leo.
“She does not need to see ‘em,” Elijah grunts, rolling his eyes. “It’s a field. Nothin’ special about it.”
“Field?”
“The three of us used to get drunk there on the weekends,” Leo says sheepishly. “Not much else to do back home.”
“You guys are so stupid,” Beckham says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to show her the field. I want to show her the sky. At night. Pretty sure at this time of year, you can see the Milky Way—it’s dark enough out there.”
“We’ll make it a group trip, add it to the agenda,” Everett nods, intrigued by the idea.
I feel like an intruder here. Like I’m seeing something close and intimate that I’m not supposed to see.
I know I’ve already signed away my rights to blab to the tabloids, and everything I share about them will be subject to their approval, but still.
“You could get some good shots of that sort of thing,” Andromeda says, jerking her chin towards me.
The others glance at her in surprise, like they didn’t expect her to include me in the conversation. I’m sure my expression is similar.
“I... could.” My words and nod are slow, giving the others ample opportunity to protest. But they don’t. They just follow Andromeda’s lead.
“You got a DSLR with a wide lens?” she asks casually. How does she know that’s what you need for shots like that?
Last time I checked, influencers don’t use that kind of camera equipment. Why would they need to? It’s not like they’re getting complicated shots most of the time.
“What’s a DSLR?” Beckham asks, leaning towards her ever so slightly, like he’s enamored by her knowledge.