Chapter 3
three
. . .
It was going to work. As weird and wild as Nikky’s plan to disappoint the public and turn them against him was, after meeting Harry Bayonne in the office of Rent-A-Boyfriend, he was certain the whole thing was going to work.
Harry Bayonne. Nikky had admired the man since he was in high school, absorbing every sort of music in every genre that he could.
Like everyone else, he’d been obsessed with Love on the Line when it’d first come out.
It was a catchy tune that was great for dancing.
The summer of Nikky’s freshman year it had been everywhere.
But there was so much more to that album than the hit song.
Harry had depth and breadth in his writing.
Some of the deep cut tracks from that album had sparked Nikky’s own creativity and inspired him to write his own songs.
Harry had been hot as sin on top of that and had been instrumental in him coming to terms with being gay.
He’d never understood why the world hadn’t embraced everything Harry could do instead of hyper fixating on that one song.
Well, now he would get a chance to ask Harry why himself.
“Lunch at noon today?”
The text from Harry came through as Nikky sat in the back of the car that the studio had sent to drive him to his first recording session two days after that meeting at Rent-A-Boyfriend.
An excited buzz filled him as he read it.
Harry Bayonne had his number and was texting him to make a date for lunch.
A fake date, maybe, but still a date. If only he could go back and tell his teenage, hormone-filled, masturbating in the shower and praying his foster parents didn’t find out self.
“Sounds great. Can you come by the studio to meet me?”
Even more amazing, he was texting Harry Bayonne back like he was just another of Nikky’s friends, like he was Drew.
“Will do. See you then.”
The reply was crisp and direct, but Nikky didn’t feel slighted or dismissed by it at all.
He and Harry, along with Javier and Desmond, who’d insisted he call them by their first names, had talked for more than half an hour during that first meeting at Rent-A-Boyfriend.
They’d gotten to know each other in the most cursory way as Nikky’d explained what he wanted out of the charade they were about to embark on.
In that time, he’d discovered that Harry had a direct, almost hard edge to him, like he felt he needed to be blunt to get his point across.
In so many ways, Harry was the exact opposite of Nikky.
Just thinking about it as he was driven through the streets of London made Nikky grin.
First impressions never told the entire story, but Harry had come off as cool and confident.
He’d filled up the chair he’d sat in with a casual sprawl that made it seem like he had control of the entire room.
He was the kind of guy who would get what he wanted in every situation and who could command the attention of everyone in any room he walked into.
By contrast, Nikky had always gone out of his way not to make waves or be seen.
Standing out in the foster system is what landed you the label of problem child, which meant you’d bounce around from home to home without ever really feeling at peace.
He’d seen it happen to more than a few kids throughout his childhood, and even though, after bouncing around for the first year, he’d stayed with Brad and Pamela for nearly his whole time in foster care, watching the shit that other kids went through had terrified him.
Nikky just wanted peace, and for him, peace came through not being perceived.
Which was why he was so psyched to get started with his plan to tank his image by pretending to be with Harry.
Harry was exactly the kind of guy who could suck up all the attention in a room and leave Nikky happy in the shadows.
He was so confident in his plan that by the time they reached the studio, Nikky actually felt happy and hopeful about his entire trip to London.
He was about to spend the next few weeks recording an album with one of the best producers in the industry, which had always been his dream.
Yes, he still loved acting and was booked solid for the rest of the year with carefully chosen indie projects.
But by giving more time to his music, he was opening a door to a different, quieter sort of celebrity. Everything was coming up roses.
“Nikky Smith.”
Nikky stood quickly from the chair where the studio’s receptionist had asked him to have a seat when a handsome, middle-aged man with a strong jaw and gray at the temples of his black hair came toward him from a side hall, hand outstretched.
“Dean Albion,” he introduced himself as he took Nikky’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person at last.”
Nikky knew exactly who the man was. Everyone who had ambitions in the music industry knew who Dean Albion was.
The man was responsible for some of the most dazzling careers in the music industry and had won more Grammys than any other producer still living.
When Dean Albion called saying he wanted to work with you, you knew your career was set.
“I know who you are,” Nikky said, then immediately felt like a complete idiot. “I mean, everyone knows who you are. We spoke on the phone. It’s great to finally meet you at last.”
God, he needed to shut up. Albion was going to think there was something wrong with him instead of trusting him to be a professional at the top of his game who was ready to make a massive career move.
Fortunately, Albion laughed. “Everyone knows who you are these days, too, Nikky Smith,” he said, pivoting to stand beside Nikky and to usher him back down the hallway he’d come from and into a deeper part of the building, where the recording studios were located.
“You’re having quite the meteoric career launch.
People are still talking about Cooked and your chemistry with Dean Oberlin months after the show aired. ”
“Cooked was a once in a lifetime experience,” Nikky said, the maelstrom of emotions that the show gave him welling up as Albion led him past a series of recording booths and on to a large office with windows looking out on London.
“We had so much fun filming it and Drew is one of my best friends for life now. But the hype and attention we’ve all gotten because of the show’s success has been a lot. ”
“I’m sure it has,” Albion said, gesturing for Nikky to have a seat in a large, vibrantly upholstered armchair while he took a seat in the matching chair across from it.
“I’m a little surprised that you want to shift your focus to music when you could book any role Hollywood or anyone else wanted to throw at you. ”
The prickling self-consciousness that Nikky always felt when people implied that he should be reveling in his new celebrity and milking it for all it was worth made sitting still in the big chair nearly impossible.
It made him feel like the same fidgety kid he’d once been, wondering if the social services worker who had come to visit Brad and Pamela was there to take him or one of the other kids away.
“I love acting, don’t get me wrong,” he said, gripping the wide arms of the chair and digging his fingertips into the soft fabric.
“But music has always been my first love. I hope I can continue to act in interesting projects, but I’d really love to be known as a musician first.” Because musicians could get away with being a disembodied voice blasting through headphones instead of putting themselves front and center in the public eye all the time.
“Right, right,” Albion said, nodding and steepling his fingers, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Of course, you know these days musicians are out there getting noticed in the world as much as actors are.”
“They can be,” Nikky said carefully, desperate not to offend Albion by having a different idea of what being a rockstar meant than he did. “But they can also just be known for their music without constantly being on the red carpet or giving interviews or being chased by paparazzi.”
Just saying the word paparazzi sent a spike of anxiety through Nikky’s entire body.
Holberg hadn’t tried to contact him in weeks.
He might not be aware Nikky was in London.
But that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t pop out from behind some corner when Nikky least expected it, camera pointed, invasive questions at the ready.
“But you love all that stuff,” Albion said with a smile.
Nikky blinked, his eyes going wide. “Actually, I don’t.”
“Sure you do.” Albion shrugged. “You’re a natural in front of the cameras and on those red carpets. A young, hot guy like you? The public loves you, and you eat that stuff up.”
“Really, I don’t,” Nikky said, feeling smaller and more in the spotlight with each passing second.
“Well, the public loves you,” Albion went on, shifting the way he sat. “They love your approachable, good guy image. You’re Hollywood’s current golden boy.”
If Nikky heard those words pinned to him one more time he might scream.
“I never set out to cultivate that image,” he insisted, scrambling for a way to get the conversation back to a place where he felt comfortable without offending or contradicting Albion. This was Albion’s world, after all. He needed the man to get to where he wanted to be in life.
“Don’t you worry about cultivating your image,” Albion said with a smile. “I’ve spoken with your agent and your manager, and that’s something my team will take care of. Your job right now is to sing your heart out and to shine as brightly as we all know you can.”